Eye See You

The next test of just how well the eye rehab is going will be tomorrow, 8-9 when DH gets the intensive testing done. That is also the day that we will probably need to figure out if DH continues his therapy in the same mode (2x a month plus home work) or perhaps lessen the appointments and see how it goes. Yesterday marked 4 months (!) since he had the stroke. I decided to go back and read nearly my entire blog, because not only is it to inform people what is going on, it is a journal of sorts for me. I cannot believe how much I have forgotten! I cannot believe how far he has come! It is with overwhelming gratefulness that I felt as I read all that has occurred. Not only how painful those first few days/weeks were, but how instrumental that so many of our loved ones were in helping DH (and me!) heal: not only physically, but mentally and spiritually as well. You just don't realize how much pain you are in until the wound is dressed/stitched/bandaged. The notes, the food provided, the chores done, the trips to see us, the helping hand you gave extended in love. I will never be able to thank you, but someday, we hope to repay you in kind. Thank you so much!
As we have been watching the Olympics, we are reminded that the human body is amazing. The ability to run faster/jump higher/row quicker is astounding.  We LOVE the instant gratification of the medal awards. We like seeing someone racing on artificial legs, we love hearing the stories behind the athlete: It humanizes them, it makes us cheer for the underdog. JG and I were discussing how the human interest stories make you feel so good, and you are so disappointed when they don't win: That mom who trains for hours to run a race while raising her children (some adopted!) and cattle and chickens in a village in Kenya...you know this medal would mean so much to her...then she comes in fourth. You feel deflated, let down, sad. But as JG pointed out "Everyone has a story..." Isn't that the truth? We forget sometimes when we are the butt of someone's anger that perhaps they just found out a loved one has died. We forget when we are stopped in traffic, that the person crossing in that crosswalk slowly may have just been diagnosed with an illness and they can hardly wrap their brain around it.As we travel the path of life, we need to be reminded constantly that everyone does have a story, it may not always be obvious though.
I do love the performances but I have been more impressed by the fragile-ness and healing of the body. The ability to "bounce back" after an injury, the healing of a broken part may be so subtle!You can't "see" it like watching a performance or "measure" it like seeing someone cross the finish line first, and sometimes you don't think it is happening. But as I look back at how far DH has come, I am reminded that the healing is occurring, one just has to be remember that life is often the marathon, and not just a short sprint. One of the things that is so intriguing in the Olympic races is that Marathoners rarely win in short races. They are built for the long haul, slow and steady wins the race and all that. The Sprinters are highly unlikely to win a long-distance race. Everyone has their talents, each one trains differently, yet, the excitement is there for each race. I realize that this stroke thing is putting us to the test in the long haul, it's not like the cut you get, stitch and forget. This has changed our lives in so many ways, but it has also strengthened us in many ways we never thought possible. Here's to the Marathon, one step at a time.