Reality Bites

The last few days have been pretty quiet, a little blah. I think everyone was on such an emotional high after all the commotion of this weekend....we all seem to have crashed a little bit, dad included. He is doing okay...he has physical, speech, and occupational therapy every day in addition to his permanent Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday dialysis schedule. Being in therapy is great, but it also forces him to realize his disability, to find out all the things he is unable to do, one task at a time.

Yesterday he was pretty down. He said his therapist was trying to get him to write, and he couldn't do it at all, then they worked on putting his shirt on, he can't do that either. It is so deflating for him to fail over and over at simple tasks. There is really so very little he can do for himself.

The swallow test won't be happening for at least a week, he is still having to be suctioned at least four or five times a day minimum. It's not good that he's needing suctioning, as his lungs should be stronger by now and he should be able to be swallowing his secretions. He still can only use his talking valve for short periods of time until the swallow test can prove he's not aspirating. So we wait a little more. And if we're tired of waiting, you can imagine how Pops feels.

I can't even begin to imagine what it's like to be him, to be a quadriplegic. I can't even begin to comprehend what it's like to have no control over your own body, to look at your hand and not be able to make a fist, to see your legs but not feel them. To be a grown man and be dependent on nurses to take care of your every personal need. And some needs are very, very personal. Some days as I watch my dad go through this, I just get overwhelmingly sad. I don't want him to have to do this anymore. I don't want mom to have to do this anymore. I don't want to do this anymore. I want our lives to be normal. I want our lives to be the way they were before December 8, 2006.

Yes, he has a new, cool wheelchair. Yes, it goes fast. Yes, I get excited when I think dad may qualify for having a service monkey which would probably be the coolest thing to ever happen in the history of the universe. But those feelings fade fast when I see my dad face reality and in his helplessness, all he can do is cry.

My dad is pretty helpless. That's reality. And sometimes reality bites. But the greater reality is that God has a purpose for my dad's life, and I pray tonight that mom and dad would get a tiny glimpse of how sweet that reality could be. Hopefully the only thing biting will be the helpful but ornery service monkey that I am desperately hoping for...