Mom has been here for two weeks now. She’s both better and worse than I’d pictured in my mind.  She has days of confusion – when she tries to put soap in her mouth or dry  her face with a wet washcloth. She has a lot more words than she lets on, but it seems she can only produce them when you say them to her, or give her a common phrase. She hums along to music all the time. She understands everything you say to her or ask of her.  We’ve gotten her out of the house a few times for a doctor’s appointment, getting our nails done, and to see my daughter’s dance studio perform the Nutcracker.

We had evaluation appointments with speech therapy, physical therapy, and occupational therapy last week. All three start this week, with two appointments each. She’s going to be busy! She is a determined and cooperative patient. It serves her well to be the fighter I’ve always known her to be. We are keeping expectations low – she is six months post-stroke, and most of whatever she’s going to recover has been recovered. Speech said she could make continued improvements as long as twelve months post, but not the big leaps we’ve seen since that first week. She will likely be in a wheelchair the remainder of her life, and need assistance the rest of her life. Her speech will be garbled at best.

She has had a couple of rough nights, crying when I’m getting her ready for and in bed. I get it. I can’t begin to imagine how this feels for her – to go from completely independent to completely dependent, to lose her speech, her ability to communicate, control of her right side. She can no longer do the sewing and crafts she used to do, nor can she garden like she did in the past, nor cook or bake. And this is now her life, for the rest of her life.

It breaks my heart when she cries, but I get it. Trust me – I frequently cry too. As much as she may have driven me crazy at times before, it’s gut wrenching to see your parent this way, to have to take care of her this way. She is on antidepressants, which I understand is common for stroke patients. Her doctor talked about weaning her off of them, but after the last two weeks, I don’t think she’s anywhere close to beginning that process. Sigh…And so we go, just riding out each day,  continuing to fight for whatever recovery she can gain. And when she cries, I wipe the tears, tell her it’s going to be okay, and that I love her.