"It won't always be like this."
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| Talkin' sports with Mark |
I came across this phrase one day last week, and I wasn't sure whether to be reassured or disheartened.
It could mean things are going to get better. Or not.
We passed the one month mark on Sunday; one month since he had his stroke. It feels a lifetime ago. In a way, it is.
Meanwhile, it was the first full week at Mr. Ginley's new digs, and PT finally began in earnest. It's five days a week, and the PT staff is very good.
We started a new routine, whereby, I rise early, do my work at home, then go visit my husband at the skilled care facility. We catch up on our day. He tells me how PT went, what he had for breakfast and lunch, and whether he's talked to our son that day. It's a plus day if Mark stopped by to visit.
In the beforetimes, Mr. Ginley would read the advice columns in the newspaper. Now I bring the iPad and read them to him. Then we do some speech therapy exercises on an app recommended by a former therapist.
When dinner arrives, I lift the lid, survey his meal, and let him know what's for eats. I cut up his meat for him and arrange the food on his plate so he can see it. As the royal taste tester, I will sample things if need be to assure him it's okay to partake.
Admittedly, I'm a bit of a taskmaster. I make him try at least one bite; if he doesn't like it, he can pass on it. I bring yogurt or somesuch for myself, and if he doesn't eat enough of what's on his plate, I'll let him eat my yogurt.
Who's a good wife?
After dinner has settled, I bring him his toothbrush and mouthwash. I clean him up and rub eucalyptus body lotion on him. It calms him and reminds him of home. Then I tuck him in, turn on ESPN, and kiss him goodnight.
I think the hardest thing for me has been acceptance of all this. Clearly, denial wasn't going to work. Crying, while cathartic, was not helping the situation. And I was not prepared to go the way of a good stiff belt. (Ilene and I agree that ice cream is much better medication.)
Now it's time to move forward, let go of the life we knew, and be grateful that we can be together each day.
Someday, Mr. Ginley will be recovered enough to come home to me.
And if that's the meaning of "it won't always be like this," that will be just fine with me.
