Glimpses

 Before we moved from rehab to skilled nursing, I talked with Jim a few times over the week, keeping him informed. To whatever level of understanding he had from moment to moment, I wanted him to know that there was a move coming. I did not want him to see me packing things, bagging greeting cards, taking the photo posters down... toting bags and making walls bare without an explanation that was calm and unconcerning. I certainly did not want him to have the thought that I was leaving. It needed to be the... we are leaving. That there are processes we have to go through, but he was safe. That this was all for him to continue to heal, and give him the best opportunities to do that including the why and the where of what was happening. He's a really smart man, and he gets it when I talk insurance limits...the system. And on the move day, wrapped up and waiting in the chair while I tried to keep things as normal as possible, he commented that we needed to be sure to do certain "things before we leave here". Awareness.

Each time there has been a change, location of any kind, he has what I call a pause. He's also a very sensitive man, and whatever state of consciousness he was in at the time, he knew there was a change....and, he hid for a while in whatever way he could. Under the sheet. Head down and no eye contact. Sometimes non-responsive. This last location move was a little smoother at first. He offered more communication and seemed more at ease.

He also connected with PT and OT the very day we arrived, so he was greeted and encouraged. And, in the brief evaluation, his body was exercised right off the bat.

He continues to do well in PT and OT, but it's so little. And, the days are long. I fix in between snacks to help him gain weight and build muscle back, play music he wants and talk with him about the picture boards. He actually notices the photos often now. He'll look, and then mention the name or ask where was that? He also sees things like numbers series that aren't really there. I try to pay attention to that in case it has a real meaning to him. Like his phone number that he spouted out during a meal a while ago. No one paid attention to that because of his tendency to talk about things that they couldn't apply to anything logical. But it was. Logical. And real.

Yesterday for the first time, he read L..i..z..z..i..e! That's our newly adopted senior boxer mixed dog we brought home in March. I wrote her name under her picture, but he actually read it. Said her name out loud, with some enthusiasm. And, he remembered her. Even for a moment, that's progress. I showed him the latest short video I took showing Lizzie turning the new stuffed chicken toy into white meat and dark meat. I got a Jim smirk in return.

These are the glimpses that sustain me. That encourage my patience. My faith. Word by word. Thought by thought. They are there one day, and may be distant the next. But you take the glimpses...the fractions of time... and store them and share them... and mostly be grateful for them. These are the results of Jim's hard work and God's healing.

We are sewing glimpses together to weave all his details into one glorious long life memory quilt. One square at a time... soon to be all arranged... and beautiful.