In the course of rehab my husband has been trusted with certain types of duties.  I generally trust him in most things, unless he gets that crazy gleam in his eyes.

You might think I’m exaggerating, but you haven’t seen those shiny eyes bearing down on you like it might be your last day.

EVER.

E-V-E-R.

So, a few months ago we got a device that would help us work muscles that don’t work on their own.  It was called E-Stim…for Electrical Stimulation.  It would electrocute muscle groups to help them remember how to move.

The only word my husband heard was: electrocute.

My leg have moved funny.  Let’s electrocute them!

My fingers started stirring.  Let’s electrocute them!

My arm has is reaching new heights.  Let’s electrocute it!

Orphans have saved baby seals.  Let’s electrocute them!!!

You get the picture.

Today, we went to our acupuncturist and I didn’t feel good enough for a session.  My husband did and I encouraged him to keep his appointment.

Halfway through the session I asked my dearly beloved a favor.

“Can I stab you with a needle?”

“NO!”

“Please?”

“NO!”

“Why not?”

“Why would I let you stick more needles in me?”

“So, you’ll quit asking me if you can electrocute me all the time.”

“But I do it with your best intentions in mind.”

“Obviously I do too. Let me stab you once and you’ll see.”

This went on for a little while.

He never let me stab him.

Clearly, he doesn’t value my love.

I woke to the smell of cooking eggs and muffins.

“Don’t look, mama!!” is screamed at me.

Plates made of goofy writing and coffee cups with smiling pictures adhered carefully are as good as gift of gold.

The sun shines down on gleaming smiles and freshly scrubbed faces.

“He’s touching me!”

“She used my blue legos!”

The worst tragedies ever.

Clearly.

We manage lunch with grandmas that do not end in bloody messes.

Chicken!  Corn-on-the-cob!  Cole slaw!  Maiming!  Destruction!

Naptime finally arrives.

“I wanna have a lemonade stand!”

“I wanna play <insert gaming system here>!”

I run…RUN….one-legged….to the nap.

Night will come with bedtime and little dragging feet.

The kids hug so hard to avoid the bed.  That’s alright, I’ll take advantage.

“I need a drink,” They declare a hundred times.

“i need to go potty,” They declare a hundred and one.

They finally sleep and I get to work.  Yawning means work is over for the night.

I head my chair off to bed, and am surprised at what I find.

Kids comfy, cozy, sleeping in my bed.

Happy Mother’s Day to me.

I visited my old therapists.  These were the ones I had last before I was able to go home.

Belle, Cinderella and Jasmine.

That’s what we called them and that’s what they’ll stay.

These three ladies taught me enough so that I could go home.  They gave me what I needed to be able to do what I’ve done today.

They taught me to balance and start to walk, they taught me to get dressed by myself, they gave me my first real meals…they made me believe that I could write again.

For weeks they worked me hard.  They trained me as much as they could.

I would never have met these people if I hadn’t been in the hospital.  Had a stroke. Been in a coma.  Struggled through rehab.

The worst parts of my life still brought the most wonderful people.

Opportunities come that I can go out with member of my therapy team.  These chances can sometimes really teach me something important.

Like the last time I went I realized something profound…I was the only one there that LOOKED handicapped.  They were all walking while I was in a wheelchair, their arms and legs worked where mine very obviously did not.

Some had cognitive issues.

Some had head wound issues.

Some had problems speaking, others had problems with vision.

But when we were separate, mine were the only problems you could SEE.

And, so what. I was working hard towards my goals with nothing to be embarrassed about.  No one ever says a word to put another person’s hard work down.

Would you believe that someone else had the balls to complain?  They actually said they couldn’t clean off the table because he only had one arm.

Someone with two working legs, a working arm past his shoulder, a working face with functional mouth….WHINED.

I won’t even lie….I almost hit him.

But I couldn’t run away.