Last week, my kiddo started therapy, the first three therapies, to help him with the damage the stroke did. He handled them well, but the first two days were rough on him. First day was four hours. The second day was three hours. The third day he went in the morning and he did better partly because it was a morning appointment, partly because he’d been there twice before.
I want him to be well, now. I think he feels that way, too. We are not patient people, but I know it takes time.
I am reminded of the Bible verse, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."Millie and the Outing
Keep in mind that Millie doesn’t like:
- Her collar (puts her in a wide-eyed coma)
- Grass (it's for the cows, in her opinion)
- Outside world (too big)
- Vacuum cleaners (has nothing to do with this story)
Outside, I sit in my camp chair, and Millie sits on my lap. She snuggles close, but does not go into her Chihuahua shivers. On the ground (now don’t laugh), I have placed a carpet remnant rug for her. Millie relaxes on my lap and watches the cars in the distance go by and birds squawking overhead. Fifteen minutes later, I look upward to the sky to see if there are any eagles or daytime owls that might swoop down (to do you know what) and place Millie on the rug. When I see that I’m losing her to collar-coma, I walk away and say things like, “You’re a good girl, Millie,” and “Come here, Millie.”Millie ignores me and lies down on the rug and sucks water off the clover and eats at least one tip of a grass blade. I sigh and decide to take off her collar hoping to cut off its magic power of paralysis. She likes the freedom and sits up. Somehow I coax her off the rug. She runs to me acting like she’s going to be one of those leap in your arms dogs, but I move away. She sits, I coax, and on it goes.
After a few minutes, I go back to my chair to sit, and she’s interested in following me. I call her and she begins her run through the wet grass again. Then something happens. Millie realizes her large furry paws (that don’t match her tiny body) are sopping wet and she collapses to the ground. When her body touches the wet grass, she jumps up and tries running on three legs, because the fourth leg is nonfunctioning due to soak-itis. She falls again, because she’s not an accomplished three-legged-dog and hobbles the rest of the way to the rug. Thank goodness the rug was there. Right?My camera was inside the house.