3/25/09 -- Expectations and Bridge

Last night I saw Dad for the first time in two weeks.  (I've been away, traveling on business and taking care of things at home in Massachusetts.)  As a bonus, I got to see my Uncle T. C. and Aunt Dorothy, who were also in Richmond visiting Mom and Dad.

First, a word about Sheltering Arms.  This was my first time there, and I have to say I was impressed.  Dad's room is very nice, and the staff seems totally on top of things.  I particularly enjoyed meeting Nurse Wanda, who not only appears to be very competent, but can match Dad story for story. 

Turning to Dad,  I spent an hour and a half just sitting and talking with him.   The cadence of his speech and the timbre of his voice still betray the effects of the stroke, but everything he says is completely understandable.  Mentally he is pretty sharp.   When we talked, it was very much a back-and-forth conversation; the first real conversation I've had with Dad since we spoke on the phone two nights before his stroke.  We talked about U.Va. basketball (he does not understand why they fired Dave Leitao), about the AIG bonuses (is there anyone not talking about that?), about what my wife and kids are up to, and about all the cards, letters and well wishes he's received.   The best moment came when he told me he was looking forward to playing bridge with Mom, Anne, Matt and me, although "my plays might be a little slow."  After everything that's happened over the last six weeks, it's hard to describe how good it felt to be sitting there just casually chatting with him.   It was a joy.

Physically, well, Dad still has some real challenges.   On the plus side, he seems to be using the left side of his face much more and, as Anne has noted in previous posts, when he feels good and motivated he makes progress in his rehab.   On the other hand, he still has very limited use of his left arm and hand, and it is clear that he lost a lot of muscle tone during his last stint in the hospital.   My overwhelming impression was that he is very, very tired.  It seems like a long way back to the self-reliant man we all knew.      

As I drove home, I thought a lot about how important it is to enjoy what we have with Dad right now, and to be realistic in our expectations about his rehab and how fast and far it may progress.  "Miracle" is a much overused word these days.   But the more I learn about the severity of Dad's stroke and about the infection and surgery he subsequently endured, the more convinced I become that the fact he is with us at all is, if not a miracle, as close to one as I ever expect to come.  That realization has made me appreciate even more the chance to sit and talk with him, to listen to a story I've never heard, to laugh with him at a bad pun, to hear his advice on what sports my son should play. For me, for right now, those are gifts enough.