THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE ADORABLE

 

Ashton and his P-Baw playing "phone"

What diversity a week can hold. A few days of hopeful improvement followed closely by days brewed in the depths of despair. When it feels like we are doomed to misery, in steps a whirlwind of a 3 year old that zaps the household with a stiff dose of adorable. This is how week # 9 P.S. (post stroke) is summed up.

Before the set back there were a few days of encouraging progress. A visit from friends last Sunday had Dave participating in simple conversation and he appeared to follow most of what was said. The Seahawks kicked butt that afternoon and things were moving in the right direction. Monday and Tuesday also proved fruitful with positive development in his speech therapy. He was able to say or write the correct word for single objects that were held up for him. This may not seem like much but believe me….it is HUGE! It shows me that his brain is rewiring itself and finding ways to communicate. We will continue to concentrate on simple written words and hope for progress.

The bad days began the day before Thanksgiving. He had been battling a head cold that got the best of him. I didn’t meddle with his need to sleep the day away for he obviously needed a break. I hoped he would gather strength for we had been warned that holidays are very tough for aphasics.  I also hoped it would be different in Dave’s case but it I was wrong. For the most part Dave masked how miserable he was but the next morning under my questioning he confessed his desolation. What a low moment for us both! Thanksgiving used to be his favorite holiday.

I have been receiving one of those educations one could live their life without…you know the kind…and this unveiling of “The World of Aphasia” (which affects over 1 million people each year) is a good example. I have learned that people with aphasia cannot cope well with large groups and a Thanksgiving Day with 18 present was a recipe for failure. This blessing in normal circumstances turned out to be the unfortunate part. My family is large, raucous and extremely close. We are populated by whip smart individuals with smart aleck lovability and razor sharp wit. Up until his stroke Dave would partake in the familial wordplay and was respected as a contender. He has been blessed by their loving support for 33 years. My siblings have been our best friends and we have always anticipated family gatherings with enthusiasm. For Dave there is a grieving for events once so treasured and now distressing. We are told that this will be the hardest year for the holidays and will only improve. Assertions like this are what I hold on to!

After the abysmal day following Thanksgiving the clouds began to break with the arrival of our grandson for a sleepover. The joy that children bring with their unflappable mind-set and talent for unconditional love was the tonic this house needed! Ashton loves his super heroes and he defines people into 2 categories…the good guys and the bad guys. He is fond of striking a dramatic pose with fisted hand raised high with the other on jutted out hip while proclaiming in lung expanding tones “I will save the day!” And he did just that.

Ashton can be described as a dynamo that LOVES to talk! And talk he does….from the first moment upon waking when he yells for me at the top of his lungs “Graaaaannnnnnnyyyyyy!” to the last second before dropping off at night…he exercises his own personal first amendment with relish. He does not judge or shy away when Dave talks in gibberish to him. This does nothing to deter the little marathon talker from continuing his diatribes.  From the beginning I have explained to him that P-Baw (his name for Dave) has a BIG OWIE to his brain and it makes him talk funny at times. I emphasize that it will take a long time for his owie to go away but we must continue to help him with his talking.

I am learning how to adjust our lives so that Dave will not be overwhelmed. He deserves to feel capable and smart, valid and valuable to himself and others. At times it feels insurmountable and other times resolute. I do not know what if anything we will be able to change or adjust come Christmas Day. Next week I just might sit on Santa’s lap and ask him for a miracle.