Too many times people quit ... they quit their jobs, they quit their marriages, they quit life. It's easier to quit.
Every time I want to quit, I just look at my wife.
If there is ever a reason to quit, Teresa has many: 1) She is basically a paraplegic; 2) She has an illness (a rare form of mycobacterium) that doctors have never really seen but have only read about; 3) On good days, with her glaucoma and cataracts, she can only see a little.
I could go on, believe me, there is much more.
There are times I want to quit because of 1) My job isn't what I want to do or was meant to do, 2) My bank account is like a brick sinking in quick sand, 3) I spend more time on the road (on treacherous roads) than I do at home;
I could go on, believe me, there is much more.
Then I look at my wife. On Tuesday, she got on what is called a tilt table. It hurt like hell. She went into more instantaneous pain than you and I will ever go through in a lifetime. She screamed, she cried, she wanted to quit.
But when the physical therapist said, "Do you want to stop?" She took a deep breath and said, "I want to get out of this *&^%$#@ bed." So she kept on working. She sat up a little more and a little more. Each time she pressed the button that enabled her to sit up at a higher angle, it was like you could see pain ooze out of her pores.
There was a certain point where common sense takes over and the physical therapist calls it good. They slide Teresa back into her bed by the sheet transfer and she lets out another yelp. She is back in her bed, likely for another 23 hours and 30 minutes until Wednesday's physical therapy.
What could go wrong between now and then? There is always something.
On Wednesday, Teresa's right wrist suddenly won't move and it hurts. Basically, her wrist is not connected to her hand. Years of severe rheumatoid arthritis have left her joints a mangled mess. Teresa asks for Jeff, the PT slave driver (her own words with respect), as one other time he was able to push them back into place.
He tries for about 10 minutes with what appears to be no luck. He apologizes and has to work with a different patient. Another therapist, Garth, stops by for his work. Suddenly, Teresa is able to move her wrist and fingers.
By the way, this is her good wrist and hand.
Garth then asks Teresa is she wants to try to get up on the side of the bed. She says yes and the process begins.
Garth works his magic and with the help of her bed sheet to steady herself, Teresa gets up and sits for seven minutes. There's a certain point when after those seven minutes, Teresa says has had enough. In her mind, she probably thinks she is quitting. But as she tells Garth and he agrees, "seven minutes is better than no minutes."
In the meantime, I take a couple of pictures of Teresa sitting up on my cell phone. It's an accomplishment for sure and one I want to save. It's something positive.
Garth lifts Teresa's legs back on the bed and slides her over on her back.
Both Jeff and Garth will likely be back in to see Teresa in about 23 hours and change. They may do the same thing or they might try something a little different. It doesn't really matter, as long as they try something.
I have to hit the road and get back to work in Cheyenne. I'd been in Denver for a little over four days, taking two vacation days to go along with my two regular days off. I'm thinking that this is basically about all I am going to get as far as vacation goes this year. Maybe a day here and there. I have to save my days for emergencies. That's just the way it is.
By now, the chemical in my brain that makes you feel sorry for yourself kicks in, as it usually does. You know, woe is me. But then I look down at my cell phone and remember that I have a couple of pictures to remind me that Teresa is not quitting and neither will I. I have to constantly tell myself that.
My shift is complete at about 12:30 a.m. I'm tired and there is the drive back to Laramie. Of course, the rain in Cheyenne turns into fog, snow and ice on the hill. The normal 40-minute drive takes about 60 minutes. Same old story. But I make it and tell myself that I once again cheated death as I get out of my car. Sometimes I really do want to kiss the ground.
Recently, I pulled into the Walmart parking lot and was temporarily stalled, as a driver waited for a parking spot ... you know, holding up traffic to park four cars closer to the door. Maybe the driver needed to get closer to the store, maybe she was just lazy. I don't know and I don't care.
Instead of cussing her out and honking the horn, I just kind of smiled. I pulled in to an open parking spot and called it good. What's a few extra feet to walk?
I'm thinking, at least I can.
No comments:
Post a Comment