I'm OK with that

"Your new wheelchair will fit in the bathroom" I told Ron "If you take the spring off the back of the door.  You'll get another two inches." 

"I don't want to get the wheelchair in the bathroom.  I want to get better." 

"I want that too, but even when you get better (I was careful not to say "if"), you tend to have periodic setbacks.  You may need to fit the wheelchair in the bathroom." 

It's interesting.  I am normally very upbeat.  However, when it comes to Ron's mobility I am a pessimist.  I don't tell him that, of course (see above). 

I had read a lot about Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) after his accident.  I read a lot about hemmorhagic strokes (he had one affecting his right side).  I talked to my aunt; her husband had suffered a nasty stroke about 9 years prior to Ron's accident. 

Everything I learned pointed to one thing: I'd see a lot of improvement up to 6 months.  Whatever progress Ron had made was likely to be "it". 

I was encouraging and supportive, but did my best to be realistic.  At 6 months, he was able to move the fingers of his right hand, but he has never been able to use them in a meaningful way.  "That might be it" I told him.  "I hope it isn't, though." 

I teased Ron about running a half marathon with me, when he spoke of "getting my right side back".  That, of course, never came to pass. 

I'm OK with that.  I married a blind man in a wheelchair.  Many people assume Ron was fine when we married.  Not hardly.  I had to push him, in the wheelchair, over the thresh-hold on our honeymoon.  I'm OK with that. 

I'd rather assume "this is it and he'll decline" than walk around with my head up my.... and get a shock.  That's one reason we bought a single-story home, easily navigated. 

In fact, I had planned to rearrange the furniture.  "No" Ron gasped.  "I use the back of the couch to propel myself down the hall!"  Oop!  Glad I checked! 

Our only problem has been the bathroom doorway.  Ron can make that work, when the wheelchair comes in.  I'm going to "let" him take the spring off the back of the door. 

I know it's very painful for him to hobble in the bathroom.  I thank God he can, but I think it will be a lot better if he can get his wheelchair in there. 

Ron does not do well, pushed.  I've learned, over 22 years, to make a suggestion and drop it.  Answer questions when asked but no nagging, ever. 

I find it sad, everyone acts like it's a big deal to push him in the wheelchair.  It's not.  It's easier than guiding him, especially when I'm heavily medicated.   I like to push him. 

People act like it's a big deal for me to fold up the wheelchair and put it away.  It's not.  It's part of the package.  Ron pays the bills, I put up the wheelchair.  God has blessed me with a strong body and I enjoy using it. 

Ron acts like it's horrific to "make" me load 30 cases of soda onto a truck, and unload it when we get to our destination.  While at our wholesaler, I saw a woman sigh and pick up a stack of printouts 2 inches thick.  That, to me, is horrific. 

Manual labor is nothing.