At three o’clock in the morning I woke Mark up because my heel was hot (potential bed sore). I wanted him to move me but he didn’t understand what I was saying because of my garbled language. I repeated ‘heel’ several times but he thought I said my head, my hair or my hip. Finally I said my foot and that lead us closer to my heel. By the time he guessed my heel we both were pretty frustrated with each other and actually I was mad. In my mind Mark should have guessed my heel first because it usually is my heel but he isn’t a mind reader. After we both settled back into bed I couldn’t help but feel how wrong I was to get mad at him. It seems as though I am critical of Mark when he doesn’t deserve it. The poor guy does absolutely everything for me and the few times he screws up I get frustrated or critical. Shame on me.
My speech has gotten so bad that even my family is starting to struggle trying to understand me when I talk. I still love being in a room full of people talking, laughing and having a good time but the minute I try to add to the conversation I wish I hadn’t talked at all. Sometimes I forget my speech is barely understandable and before I have time to stop myself I say something thinking my speech is normal but then all of a sudden the conversation in the room stops and everyone is quiet while they politely try to understand what I just said. Sometimes it takes so long to understand what I said we forget what we were talking about. Thank you for being so patient with me.
“Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything…we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to realize it as such.”
One night Kelly told Harrison to give Grandma a kiss goodnight. She put him on my lap and for about ten minutes he kissed me, hugged me, patted my back, put his head on my chest and talked to me in a sweet, soft voice. Harrison’s expression of love was incredible to watch. How can a one-year-old know this kind of love already, especially given the fact that I have never been able to pick him up, hold him or comfort him. I’ve never been able to read him a book or rock him to sleep. Is this kind of love God-given or learned? I believe it’s both. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could put a baby’s love in a bottle and gift it to someone who’s having a bad day?
Head hugs and kisses are awesome. I never realized how awesome they are until now. It feels so good to have someone walk by me while I’m sitting in my wheelchair and stop for a second to give me a kiss on the head. Some people squeeze my head as if to give me a head hug. It all feels like a beautiful expression of love.