730 Days — 2 Years

Thursday 4/27/23

Anel is making strides, recovering a little each week. Brick by brick.

The events of Tuesday, April 27th, 2021, replay in my mind like a Netflix original. I want to say the time for sadness and the gang is over, dealt with, and kicked to the curb. But that’d be a lie. When the emotions come, I take the time and honor their purpose. I sit, think, and allow the hurt to be felt. The two years haven’t lessened the pain. But my acceptance of life with it has dramatically changed, and that makes me smile.

Now, Anel’s take on all this nonsense boggles my mind. Early on in the LTAC (long-term ICU), she had a bad day. We all knew it too. We figured she had become aware enough to realize she was trapped in a body that wasn’t moving. That episode lasted all of one day, and other than that, I haven’t witnessed a breakdown, a poor me, a I hate this, nothing! The only way I can rationalize it is through God’s intervention. She is my hero.

This last week we’ve talked about the anniversary. Rather than replay each moment of this day and intentionally drive ourselves (myself) into sorrow, we’ve decided to write down and discuss future moments of triumph. If our bodies remember the trauma from the past, then we will tell them about the triumphs in the future. You know, let them get all prepared for the happiness. Milestone one is the day Anel walks without a walker. Number two is the day she drives herself to lunch with the girls. I can see it in my mind's eye. She’s slipping on her Tory Burch sandals, walking to the mirror, leaning her head to the side, and fluffing her hair with a shot of spray. I see her hands on the edge of the door jamb as she leans around and blows me a kiss. I’m at my desk on a phone call smiling back at her. What a day that’ll be. Body, be happy.

Before stroke three, around Christmas, she walked about 400 feet a day with assistance. I’m happy to share that she’s now in the 2000 feet a day bracket. We believe the tightness in her muscles prohibits her from walking alone. Her ankles have a limited range of motion. Botox blocks a signal from the brain, telling the muscles to engage, and causing them to relax. So next week, she’s getting Botox. Some of her friends have offered to take her, claiming Anel might not need all of the Botox the doctor ordered. Anel smiles and shakes her finger back and forth, saying no no no no. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll be walking on her own soon.

Her speech is coming right along. If you’ve been around her much, you’ll hear her say “Thank you” . . . .repeaditly. It can get out of hand. I’ve counted thirty-plus times in under five minutes. She’s naturally grateful, but the phrase gets stuck in her head and is used as a filler. My solution has been to have her teach me a Spanish word that correlates to what were doing. Boy, that gets her fired up. I don’t necessarily have a disciplined ear, so my pronunciation leaves much to be desired. She’ll hammer one word with me until I get it, and then her face is covered with pride. It’s a win-win.

Her health continues to be great. No sickness, blood pressure is perfect, no medications, a picture of health.

Thank you again for loving and supporting us.

Brick by brick.