Jumping At Shadows

There are still those moments…

 

When she sits up in bed, terrified of a shadow on the ceiling;

 

When the bed just feels off to her, even though nothing at all has changed, and only by reading to her and taking her focus off the fear can I help her to relax and fall asleep;

 

When I try to take her glasses off without waking her completely and she immediately gets cross and almost mean, wanting her glasses back right now (to which I always accede);

 

When she gets so angry at me for not listening and needing to be “reminded” of what she said in a conversation that never happened (and which she’s apparently been having in her head)…

 

Yes, there are still those sobering moments. Those instances when I wonder, just for a second, if I was projecting and imagining all the improvements I’ve cataloged over the last couple of months. The nights I cry myself to some close semblance of sleep where the nightmares rend and tear at me endlessly until I awake in a sweaty start only to learn that I’ve “slept” mere moments.

I sleep better than I did when I started this project, but that’s a qualified statement. Better still ain’t awesome. But it is better, and sometimes she can climb out of bed en route to the restroom without waking me at all until she hits that one creaky floorboard.  Every day and every night I learn something new about how to better serve her needs and help her on this path.   And every day I do chronicle a new improvement, whether in speech, fine motor control, eating habits, physicality, or cognition. They’re all related, and they’re all vitally important. And no, they’re not my overactive imagination like my doubting mind sometimes asserts. Jacquelynn is getting better, and at a much faster rate than ever predicted by the doctor.   Her hairdresser made a special point to make me aware of the improvements she could see since her last visit, which was two months back, just before our trip to Savannah to see Dr. Ross for the first time.

So yes, fear is a constant companion, but it is one to which I do not surrender. I listen to what it has to say, and then I process that information like any other data. Then, albeit with difficulty, I set it aside and move forward. For Her. For Us.   I move forward in love and in confidence and in excitement for what the day holds. Because it holds Us, and Us is the greatest thing anyone can be a part of.

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