creative

Too Long

I looked at stats and found it to be extremely dismal. This is to be expected from the incredible, personal distractions of life that don’t stop happening.

I suppose I shouldn’t be hard on myself but I find that since life has dealt me hard I should come back harder still, and give it the most intentional punch back.

That intentional punch back is to start with a weekly post. I started many posts but didn’t finish because of all the punching I do at prioritizing the needs I fulfill as a caregiver.

I’m desperately hopeful that I will find my success more and more each week as one more post moves into completion. Cheers to hard-headed determination!

creative

bible.com/bible/116/mat.7.24.NLT

This is so true to me now because of my experience with three days of hurricane. The whole time the wind was blowing, I kept thinking about the storm the disciples were in and how afraid they were to the point of waking Jesus. I held onto that visual all three days. I am so thankful. We truly are small in comparison to Nature, yet we have indefinite influence. Think twice. Act once.

creative · disabilities · parenting · rehabilitation

Progress with Patience and Persistence

My work is never finished. I rise before the dawn often coming from a two hour nap just hours before. He’s been striving to achieve, and I’m thankful. I never know when the miracle comes, and it’s better that way. I persist because of this. I believe he does his best to maintain reciprocity.

It’s these moments I feel it necessary to be his cheerleader.

Overcoming left side defecit.

He manifests progress in mysterious ways. He learns to creep his achievements. Using his strong right hand to hold onto the counter top, he shifts his weight to host his body, while moving towards the sink. Then, as if he changed his mind, he turns his body around, holding with one hand then switching to his weakest hand to hold on the counter. All the while he has nothing to balance himself except for his legs.

I froze as I watched him work this out for the first time.

“Take your time”, I encouraged.

Step by slow, deliberate step. He did it! When he reached me, I pulled him into a big hug. He looked up at me, smiling with great pride.

Each day is new! Hallelujah.

creative · parenting

Eating Better

I’m all about trying to find ways to be healthy. Food seems to be an easier way sometimes since getting outside can be harder. Plus it proves to be a win-win for all involved. I get to be creative, the men in my home get tasty food and everyone dies good for their bodies. Especially since one of my guys has hypotonia. This strongly forgotten and ever present phenomena is culprit to a lot of chronic constipation and medical fragility.

Hypotonia means lack of muscle tone in the body. It means a need for exercise and/or dietary restrictions. The right amount of fiber from vegetables helps the body.

Update:

Coincidentally or not, my son has developed regularity since September 27, 2021. After tracking on a daily basis, I noticed that his hypotonia is less of a variable when the Vegas Nerve Stimulator has a new battery. Everything flows.

We haven’t had to track fiber every day. As long as he eats some fiber combined with the daily water intake each day, he achieves what most elderly don’t.

The bigger test or confirmation of what occurs will happen when we see the battery losing battery life. Will we be using more meds to counter the chronic constipation?

Only steady observation and tracking will help me to find the answers.

creative

Homebound

Here I sit with my disabled son. I love him and yet, I’m frustrated to the brink of a primal scream. I know, I should be ashamed of myself. Not everyone can do this. This job that I have without monetary compensation, but lots of spiritual reward.
I’m thankful for his delightful demeanor. He likes to laugh and play using my hands to clap. He seems to be happy all the time, even when he’s sick. He gets sick often. With music playing, he bops up and down with the rhythm of the song. He’s feeling better after having a miserable week of refusing food, drink and anything fun. His ear infection seems as though it left, but I’m still required to be at his side.
He’s weak from not walking. Watching him all night has left me drained and tired, ready to use the hard wood floor as my bed and pillow. But I hold off and wait for the opportunity to have someone else watch him while I close my eyes for moments at a time. My hope for sleeping at a normal time has slipped through my hands as I receive a phone call from the night nurse. She can’t make it tonight. It shouldn’t matter. I usually work two nights and two days in a row, but it does matter.
Maybe it’s because I was looking forward to a lost opportunity to sleep for more hours than the typical four. Or maybe it matters because the five consecutive years of his needs have escalated to a cliffhanging level.
Irony can be a humble teacher because as of this day (4/18/21), I am the official night nurse. I have all seven nights to watch. My night nurse is now the day nurse. Life has a funny way of teaching us to appreciate the situation present because life happens.