We Can Rebuild Him; We Have the Technology.

Most of this blog has been dedicated to the ephemera of my life. And the banal. It was never my intention to use the blog to discuss more personal things or discuss 'real life', but there was a major change recently that has taken over my existence to some extent. And, by the same token, it will in some way be reflected in some of the posts on this blog.

My father had a stroke on January 3.

He has no siblings or close family, and as my parents are no longer together, it fell to my brother, sister and I to become his caregivers and advocates as we navigated the world of hospitals and rehabilitation facilities. Being the oldest of the siblings, I, somewhat by default, became the 'child in charge'. We three siblings make the decisions together, with input from my father, but ultimately, The Triumvirate are the ones who have the power, with me being the legal representative.

When it came time to make the decision to place Daddy in a rehabilitation facility, I didn't hesitate. I live in one of the largest medical communities in the state and have one of the best rehabilitation facilities in our area. I made the call, and really didn't give any other options. The Triumvirate live in various parts of the state, but being the only one who actually lived within a strong medical community made the decision even easier. So, when Daddy was released from the hospital, we loaded him into my vehicle and drove him 3 hours across the state to "rehab boot camp" as the intake nurse called it. (Don't ask about why we actually had to do the transport. I've decided the private medical thing is a racket!)

Daddy's therapy is very, very intense. He has at least 3 hours daily, of a combination of physical, occupational and speech/cognitive therapy. Today was a school holiday for me, and I had the opportunity to actually observe him during his day. To say I was impressed is putting it mildly. To say I hope I never need intensive rehabilitation is an understatement. It was brutal. It is not a reflection on the therapists themselves. They were wonderful, encouraging and delightful people who made difficult tasks humorous and engaging. We laughed and joked constantly. But, despite its jovial wrappings, it was hard, grueling work. Daddy was highly motivated, never complained, worked through each and every exercise, and never asked for a break. I think he would have continued working if the therapists would have allowed it, even though they and I both could see he was at his physical limits and exhausted.

The most fascinating part of the day was spent in OT. The rehabilitation hospital has the Bioness equipment, and Daddy is using the Ness H200 for hand rehabilitation. It's the most amazing machine. It allows his left hand, incapacitated by the stroke, to open and close through electrical stimulation. With this device, his hand muscles and nerves are retrained, and the theory is, the pathways to the brain will be reformed, allowing him to eventually move the hand on his own. I told Daddy he was lucky I wasn't his occupational therapist, because we'd be playing with the toy EVERY session. It was just the coolest thing. I also told him he was starting to look like the 6 Million Dollar Man. When I told him we could rebuild him, we had the technology, I got the truest laugh of the day.

Some times, it's just the little things.