You know, sometimes progress is hard to measure. These days, Dad's progress is tough to pin down. It was easier when one day he couldn't stand, and the next day he could. Because it's not so obvious Dad is a little discouraged lately. He wants to see the big gains. In order to cheer him up, I've been engaging lately in a little thing I like to call "The Increment Project." (Actually, I just made that up, but it sounds good, no?) Anyway, I try and call attention to all the little ways he's better than before. If he picks up a pill from the table with just his thumb and forefinger, I say, "remember when you couldn't even pull down the hem of your shirt?" When he sips on a cup of coffee I remind him of when he couldn't even swallow.
At this point in his recovery, it isn't about Dad doing new things, it's about him doing the things he's doing, but
better. And every day, in incremental ways, he's improving and refining everything he does.
FYI, because he's getting so much better, but still can't see well enough to drive, it's easy for Dad to feel a little isolated. If you've thought about giving him a call but didn't want to interrupt anything, please don't worry. Dad is able to answer his phone most any time unless he's in therapy (and he's doing so well he's down to two hours of therapy each on Monday and Thursday, and one hour on Tuesday). He'd love to hear from you.
