Early days....II

It is very easy to take things for granted, once one has become complacent.

It seems natural that things will go on as they have always done, like one long stretch of the same day, the same actions, the same people, just with a slightly altered script. It's only when something changes, something drastic occurs, that we might remember how easily everything can shift from one reality to another.

Once Mum had had her accident small milestones became triumphs, things that I never would have considered before became the focus of entire days, and all our energy went into helping her grasp basic functions, like holding a glass of water.

I was fourteen when Mum started coming home for short visits from the hospital, she was often highly distressed, a safety belt was locked into place across her chest to prevent her from throwing herself out of the wheel chair, not that it stopped her from trying (even with brain damage Mum remained fiercely determined) she was often fixated on asking the same question over and over again, and due to her full body spasms would become tense when she didn't like or understand the answer.

One favorite question was "how tall are you?" it seems harmless enough now, but at the time it drove me crazy, as the only way to answer her was to show her, I would have to stand up like a puppet as many as 30 times in a row so she could see, be satisfied, then forget and ask again.

Drinking a glass of water became the ultimate challenge.

Mum at the time was going through cold turkey from her myriad of medications, and was utterly convinced that she could drown herself with a drink, she would try and grip the glass, her arm and neck tensing, her fingers clawing, and given the opportunity would dump the entire contents on her head.

We would dry her off and try again, working to direct the glass to her mouth, she would spasm, angrily abuse us, and drink perhaps a quarter of what ever was in the glass.

This went on for weeks.

Suffice it to say straws became our new best friends.

Then one day it just changed, it was so unusual, I can't say what was different or why, but something clicked for her, the familiarity of the action overtook her thoughts, she held the glass and drank it carefully.

Dad and I were baffled and overjoyed, this action filled us with such a sense of accomplishment, that we were quick to tell everyone we knew about it.

It was so funny, we were giddy, Mum in one moment had filled us with hope, and the thought struck me then as it does now, small things can make you very happy, once big things have been taken away.