I have to apologize for being very absent from my blog(and really missing the therapeutic hold that it has on me). Excuse number one: my husband had a heart failure exacerbation and had to be rushed off to the ER with my son in tow. Thankfully, he was admitted and then transferred to another hospital where the right specialists could help him, and thankfully I could visit him WITH our son despite COVId restrictions; exceptions were made for us each time. Praising the Lord that my husband is back with us now and moving around without physical help, though quite weak. Hopefully, his physical therapy starts today here at home.
My son is turning 18 on the 6th, and I am trying to put together a small (maybe 3 people) bowling party for him with his brother and a new acquaintance. I am thinking we can be socially distant! Despite having regular childcare this summer, some joy has gone from his not- so -little- anymore soul. Here’s hoping the party will lift his spirits. Timothy is usually very happy but the pandemic and continued lack of being able to eat in restaurants or meet up with his Capernaum group (an off-shoot of Young Life, for those of you who are familiar) have perhaps caused an unwelcome flatness to his overall affect. Hard for a mother to look at. I am very much hoping that the little party will bring back some of the light in his beautiful eyes.
When Timothy’s helper is not with him, he is still fixated on opening doors in the house, staring at them briefly and then leaving each ajar. I used to go and close them but now I am leaving them, knowing full well that they will be opened again whenever he needs to feel in control in this manner. His mild fear of thunderstorms causes him to want his window shades back from me. I keep them in my closet(thankfully the door to which stays closed in my locked bedroom!). He seems intolerant of them being in place at each of his two bedroom windows when there is no threat of a storm (I try to avoid that word STORM as it can start a verbal perseveration). I think this is because of the precision needed (ever stopped and thought about how you learned to pull a shade back up? It’s so automatic for a typical person!) to be able to raise them up without asking for help. This morning I found them jumbled up in the hall, resting on his brand new prescription pair of eye glasses (mercifully unscathed). He must have decided the storm had passed over and taken them down. I rolled them up and put them away until the next storm, at which time he will come and ask for them again (and we can have a teachable moment of using the correct pronouns). In the evenings, after he has had dinner, a shower, and time with Kiss 108 or on his iPad playing Angry Birds, He invariably comes to ask me for a car ride. If I am not too tired from the day’s many chores and now care of my husband, I will acquiesce, and off we go up 128 towards Gloucester. Soon after we cross over the river, with prompting from me, he communicates his preference to make two trips around the round-about (or as some folks call it: the rotary). I regularly wonder whether the policeman (yes, I still use that word and others like it) who is parked facing the round-about takes notice that we frequent here and generally take an extra go-round? I have pondered what I might say if I got pulled over by him. He would instantly know I wasn’t drunk because I always use my turn signal as I exit the round-about. He would look in the car and see Timothy and with almost no explanation give us the okay to go around twice. I am pretty sure.
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