When Burt first presented with his array of bizarre and unexpected symptoms, I simultaneously felt [that] “I couldn’t” and “I got this.”
My current state of mind is very similarly disposed to having it both ways.
Often, it looks like he’s also on the same page. “Got it” and “I just can’t.”
After a recent bout with a drop in his blood pressure that literally brought him to his knees, “I can’t” looked like it would triumph.
For me, despair at our situation was foremost and, of necessity, well-hidden.
Burt was in a wheelchair rather than on his trusty walker. His aide worried he would wobble and fall. I had him stay in bed on Sunday after being unsure I could keep him from toppling on Saturday.
It looked like grim times for us. Burt tried hard getting himself up and into bed one evening; his exercises with his OT were limited.
Next day, I came home to find him in his big brown chair. His walker had replaced the wheelchair. It was just the 6th day since his tumble.
He worked hard to get up and out of his recliner. After 4 practice runs at it, he was holding onto the handles of his walker and heading into his bedroom.
Even in his confusion, he’s a serious and determined guy. I’m impressed. And hopeful.
this is our life 