Back When I Could Walk. . .

Yesterday, a brave man said this to me.  He said it with difficulty-- not at the words, but because speech is hard to produce.  He said that back when he could walk, he rode horses and it helped with his coordination. It made him think of D and wondered if he had ever tried horse therapy.

We had just arrived at school after D's visit to his rehab pediatrician.  This man, after retiring from his work at the court house, now in a motorized scooter, works as a security guard to keep an eye on the high school kids.  And he does an excellent job.  Half the time, when no one else knows where D is (he likes to visit other classes), Mr. Brian knows.  And he knows D likes to push the buttons on his electric scooter, so he'll unplug if he sees D heading his way. 

I had been having a pity party for me and D on the way home from the doctor.  The doctor was alarmed at the loss of muscle mass in D's hands.  He had not seen him in 9 months and though D's walking had improved as had his cognitive functioning, his hands had atrophied so that straightening them out causes his joints to dislocate painfully.  He said that if this continues without surgical or therapeutic intervention, he would lose the use of his hands altogether.  I mentioned another problem we have been having and he said that the gut is made of muscles and when you have a degenerative disease, those muscles atrophy too.

 Talking to Mr. Brian at the school humbled me.  And the dare to be grateful right now drew my attention upward to the sapphire sky (one thousand gift #18) and to Mr. Brian and his friendship with D--(one thousand gift #19).