The sound of his heel hitting the metal stopped me. I looked down and noticed it just dangling there.
Every morning, I maneuver a sling around his body. And every morning, I use a machine called a hoyer lift to lift him from the bed to the wheelchair. And every morning, he wiggles and tries to adjusts himself in his chair to make himself more comfortable…
Except this time.
This time, he had to ask me to lift his foot up onto the foot plate. This time, I noticed he couldn’t do it himself.
I suppose in some small way, it doesn’t seem like all that big of a deal, right? I mean, it’s simply me bending down and lifting his foot to sit on a metal plate. I put both feet next to each other, and grab his blanket, and wrap it around his legs..
and I say, “Is your foot gone?”
It felt as if I had asked him if his appendage had died. And I am…that is exactly what I am doing. I am asking him if another part of his body had died..given out..become so weakened that he can no longer move it…And I couldn’t bare to look him in the eye as I asked this. Instead, I fussed with straps and wires, and tucking in and lifting…I kept my eyes down and my hands busy.
“Yeah, I think its a goner!”
I look up and slap a smile on my face and I try to ignore the pain I feel deep in my chest.
And I grieve again.
I grieve for his losses, as well as my own. I grieve every time, and I know its depressing. I know it is hard for others to look,
And I refuse to apologize for it!
Because I think everyone needs to know how strong this man is. I think everyone needs to know how immensely humbled I am to see him live each day, with less and less ability to move, and needing more and more help with each and every task, yet he refuses to complain. He refuses to say, “Why me?” and he refuses to ask for more than he needs.
To the person who posted this response on my Facebook page,
Jesus Theresa, why would you even post this?
If you read my blogs…
My response to you is this:
Because it is breaking my heart to watch this and be so completely helpless…
So I grieve…