It's a Virtue

"It takes time. Be patient."

photo attribution below*

So says every doctor, nurse, and PT person who's dealt with stroke victims. 

We're coming up on two months since the evil day, and yes, there has been progress. 

The left leg is showing signs of life, as evidenced from PT over the past week. I won't go into the details on toileting, but suffice to say, things are coming out nicely. And Mr. Ginley's sliding board skills have improved dramatically. I even helped him get into bed today. Obviously, the PT guy was still in the leading role. But I helped! (If you're hearing the kid's voice from the Shake 'n Bake commercial in your head right now, you're old like me.)

But I digress.

There are other changes, too. Bill is starting to assert himself more. He's working on returning to the take-charge guy I know and love, less the victim of circumstance. He continues to be a champ in PT, coaching himself all the way. He desperately wants to come home.

Christmas is looming. Mary B. brought in a little Christmas tree and some cookies for Mr. Ginley. Meanwhile, I look around the house, devoid of nary a sprig of holly and shrug. Just not feeling the spirit of the season this year.

On the other hand, I'm grateful that Mr. is still around, that the stroke wasn't worse than it was ("severe" was bad enough). And that there is hope for recovery. 

We just have to have...(wait for it) patience. 

Something I and the patient have in short supply. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Ginley and I want to thank everyone who's supported us through of this, whether you've paid Mr. a visit, advised, let me cry on your shoulder, said a prayer or two, or sent hugs and healing wishes. All are appreciated.

By the way, Merry Christmas. And, as Connie Schultz says, "For those of you struggling, may the day land gently."

*Photo attribution: D'Oyly Carte Opera Company, printed by Clement Smith and Company, London. Signed "J. W."Restored by Adam Cuerden, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

 

Only the Good Stuff

I will be very happy to bid this week adieu.

There were fiascos (transport for Mr. Ginley's visit to an off-site doctor) and triumphs (significant leg movement without assistance in PT).

When Mr. Ginley asked me what I was going to talk about this week, I said maybe it was time to take a break from what he (self-named Strokie McStrokerson) was dealing with. It turns out, he was of a like mind.

He and I were strolling down memory lane this week when he asked what my favorite day with him was. With so many years behind us, I said that was a tough one. So instead of concentrating one one, why not do a Top 10 List of Our Best Days. So here they are, in no particular order, and some are time periods rather than days, but you get the picture.

1. Our First Date

Bill and I met at JBR and worked together for six years before he asked me out in the hallway at work. (I was married before and had dated someone else for a time.) "Do you want this package sent UPS or FedEx," he asked. "UPS, please." He followed up with, "Do you want to go out with me Friday night?" "Sure." The rest is history. (Noting that this photo was prior to our dating. He'd lost the beard by the time we started going out. But lately, he's been making references to his monicker at the time, The Amish Kid, so I said I'd share a pic.)

2. Our First Trip Together

I suggested we go to the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake. So in the autumn of our first year together, we headed up north for a weekend away. We played room baseball (beware of the Paisley Monster), saw two Shaw plays, ate well, and generally had a wonderful time together.

3. Our Wedding Day

In our apartment in Virginia, we hosted six guests and Martha (the Justice of the Peace). There was a party tray, a home-baked devil's food cake, and lots of champagne. We said our vows and did the secret handshake to seal the deal. 

4. The Metro

Back in the day, Washington's Metro system was the bomb. We'd take it everywhere around town. Sometimes, we'd get on, pick a stop, and get off and explore. Georgetown is cool, but parking is premium, so we'd get off the Metro and walk across the Key Bridge. We met my niece, Rose, one evening and had dinner with her in Georgetown. So many good memories.

5. The Mall

Unlike many DC natives, we never took the Smithsonian for granted. We explored each of the museums, plus the National Gallery of Art, the monuments, and other attractions. And many Sunday mornings were spent sitting on the Mall, reading the newspaper and people-watching.

6. Cape May

There were two trips to Cape May. One before we got married and then again for our honeymoon. We drove to Delaware and took the ferry from Lewes. (I got seasick, of course.) Both were lovely getaways. We went early in the season, before Memorial Day, so we could hang out with the locals and get a better feel for the true nature of the place. We walked on the beach, strolled through town, and ate well. I'm sorry we haven't been back since. 

7. Our House

Two years after moving back home to take care of my mother-in-law, we were able to buy our own home. We moved in on Halloween and have remained in the Casa de Ginley, where we anticipate Mr. Ginley's return in the coming months. 

8. Joe

No, Joe, we didn't forget about you. (You'll notice these items are chronological.) Our son's birth changed everything, in a good way. And he has not disappointed us. He's turned out to be a wonderful human being, and we're very proud of him and all he's accomplished. There are too many days with him to call out just one. Graduations from preschool, OLA, high school and college. His wedding day. Reading him stories at bedtime. Lunches with him and Mr. Ginley when they'd come down to see me at work. So much good stuff. 

9. The Cruise

Seven days of bliss aboard The Freedom of the Seas, courtesy of my employer. In spite of Mr. Ginley's misgivings prior to the trip, he quickly converted to cruise fandom once he experienced the sheer joy of time spent together, the open sea, and a night sky full of stars.

10. A Grandchild

Our granddaughter was born this year, and we couldn't be happier to meet and spend time with her. We're hoping and praying that in the new year, we'll be able to do more of that once the worst of this odyssey is behind us. (P.S. I'm not sharing a photo out of respect for her parents' wishes, not because I don't love her to pieces.)

I'm sure I've left out many great days in this list (and that Mr. will point them all out to me). 

But with 35+ years under our belts, there's lots to be thankful for. Here's hoping I can add to this list in the coming year. 

Till the Mighty Rivers, baby.*

*Our song, credit to Graham Parker.

Finding Acceptance

"It won't always be like this."

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.