56. Joy

I left my centre today with plenty of planning and warning. There was no tearful parting. (Except one of the other residents' partner gave me a chocolate orange, and said she awaits the day her partner walks out too. That made us both well up.) Last night, another of the residents was annoyed at me for some unknown reason, and threw a (lukewarm) mug of tea over me. Great way to say goodbye. I gave some plants to the staff to say thank you for all their hard work. Many came to wish me well. I walked down the stairs and out the front door with Becca, doing my best to walk upright without holding her hand. 

I have made a list of all my little victories from the last 6 months:
- I could open my bedroom door.
- I haven't had to press my buzzer since I was OKed to use the toilet on my own (except one time I spilled popcorn all over the floor and had to ask for help clearing it up).
- Have only smashed ONE glass (genuinely surprised).
- Can stand and touch my toes.
- Can get up from the floor (not that I'm on it much).
- I didn't steal anything. (Despite my repeated threats to steal the velcroed wall pictures in the corridor. I tore one down, a.k.a. "stole" one whilst walking down that corridor. The physio wasn't impressed. I didn't even steal a company-branded mug.)

I feel like I've done a nursing degree. A year out in the medical industry. If this is too much of a stretch, I deserve a qualification in sports science at least. Strange that my brain has taken a lot of hits, but also learned a lot. I can now get speak hospital. A language I never knew I'd need. People have asked me, and no, I haven't been inspired to take up a medical/therapy career. Not creative enough for me. I'm an ideas person really. As much as I am now in a position to empathise with patients. Maybe a bit too much.

It feels very freeing to be out in the real world again. I had a doctor's appointment in the afternoon, and it just so happened I was allocated a university health service GP who went to my church, visited me in neuro intensive care, and has been following my progress since. We discussed medication, and how I'm planning to wean myself off. My dad helped me move all my stuff into my room, and I dotted plants all around the kitchen. I met a flatmate from Thailand, and my dad and I had a meal out with my friend Anna and her parents.

In 2 Corinthians 12:9, Paul writes that God says "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." I have found a surprising amount of joy in being physically weak this year. I just completely didn't expect weakness to mean actual left-sided weakness. The helplessness takes my breath away, and all I can do is laugh at it. Literally laugh on the face of danger. It takes its power away from it, and gives you a weird kind of power. People can never predict that response either. No one expects you to laugh as you flop over.

At the end of it all, all I can feel is that same joy that kept me company in my intensive care bed, that tells my body I will walk again, and that sings for me when my mouth cannot. This blog started with boredom. It's only fitting it ends with joy. I was kept alive for a reason. I'm joyful.

Email shewillwalk@gmail.com to get updates on my progress next.

Graduating rehab.