Back to life, back to reality

Yesterday, B spontaneously draped herself over the dog, then tumbled onto the rug in a pile, her arms and legs outstretched. Laughing all the while, because she didn't THINK about how to make those moves and then gingerly arrange herself. She just did it.

On B's discharge from the hospital, the occupational therapist called her improvements a "miraculous recovery"; we would agree, though we're glad no one told us at the outset that miracles would be necessary. But it's true that she looks better than she has in months. 

She just completed her first week back at school (part-time, so she has the time and energy for her many therapy & doctor appointments). Her neck, lower back, right arm, left leg—all areas that were either immobile or excruciatingly painful—are looking healthy, and feeling astonishingly normal. Chewing has been slower to improve, but she can now manage rice and beans or omelets. B gets along on crutches, since her right foot is still tight and its range of motion is limited. But even there, tremendous progress has been made: She can now walk up stairs without the crutches. And as of Wednesday night, the leg spasms that kept her up for hours each night, often moaning in tears, finally stopped.

Aren't you so thrilled? people ask me sometimes, about B's recovery. And yes, of course, I am. Still, I don't feel that joy the way I expected to. When B was at the lowest point of her illness, I imagined feeling a wave of indescribable elation when she got better, but that moment never came. I've felt brief happy bursts, sure, but often I'm numb. Or anxious: Yesterday, my second day heading back in to work, I forgot how to pull up my NJ Transit ticket on my phone and nearly had a coronary. Or, occasionally, angry: I don't usually hurl F-bombs at surly parking lot attendants or bad SUV drivers. Or, weirdly, starving: I have eaten NONSTOP since December, and therefore ended up busting through my jeans, Incredible Hulk-style, somewhere around the end of January. 

None of this is normal, per se. But I remember how desperate and sad and scared we felt just a short time ago, and I am once again relieved to be on this side of the crisis.