January 10, 2011

Dear Friends,

Call me Fern.

Remember the kids' book Charlotte's Web?   Cute pig?  Clever spider?  Smart-aleck rat?  And then there was Fern . . . Fern Arable.  She isn't really a character in the story as much as a portal through which the story flows.  She sits on a milk stool in the corner of the barn, while Charlotte and Co. dream up their elaborate plans to save lovable Wilbur from an untimely fate.  I feel like Fern these days - sitting on a naugahyde lounge chair, watching my best friend fighting through this very personal disaster with every weapon he and our new friends can think of.  And like Wilbur, we're outwitting our foes, slowly but surely.

Today was the first day of Intensive Rehab.  And it was intense.  Dwaine was up in the Rehab Gym before I even arrived at 8:00 a.m., walking up and down a set of faux stairs using a cane.  Up one side, down the other.  2 more times, 3 more times, "just one more and we'll stop."  Then it was on to the sample ramp, and then the curb.  Then he moved on to a set of balancing exercises on the parallel bars.  Then the long walk back to his room for a short rest.  We weren't there more than 5 minutes and the speech therapist, Joan, arrived for breakfast and swallowing observations.  So another walk down to the cafeteria.  While Dwaine tucked in to scrambled eggs and oatmeal, Joan observed his swallowing and announce that she thought he'd be ready for a regular diet by tomorrow morning.  (We'd gotten switched back to the soft diet after the vomiting episode yesterday.)  After that, a trip back to the room for a rest.  I went to work on the laptop to try to answer some emails, and while sitting there, I watched Dwaine go by yet again with the OT, who wanted to test him for his sense of direction and route memory.  After the emails, I found him resting in his room again, already worn out from the exertion.  But we weren't done yet, . . . oh no.  The therapist asked me to move my car up to the front of the building so we could have Dwaine practice getting in and out of the car.  We got him bundled up in long pants, shoes and coat and it was down all the stairs and outside.  He made it in and out of the car with no problems at all.  Then back inside for a rest again. 

A short time later, in walks another speech therapist for an introduction and interview.  She asked about his goals and sense of progress so far, and a dozen other questions.  This portion of the day was the most emotionally draining.  Being asked about your goals and whether you recognize your own limitations, when just a week ago, you were perfectly fine and healthy, is very difficult.  I was very glad I was there for this section.  And, in his usual style, Dwaine not only answered everything, he remembered that the therapist's husband was working on his counseling degree and encouraged him to do his internship at Mapleton.  "President Obama visited our school to recognize it as a model for reform," he said.  Some Guy, huh?

After she left, lunch arrived.  I ran back to the house to let the girls out.  By the time I got back, he was snoozing on his bed.  Snoozing without any hiccups - thankfully the medication seems to be working well.  Terrific!

I watched his Radiant round face, sleeping soundly on his bed and was amazed at his fortitude.  He tackled every single thing today without a single complaint, even though I knew he was very tired after the first session.  He just kept plugging away, like an Energizer Bunny. 

Finally, it was time for dinner - we decided to eat in the room, watching "The Fantastic Mr. Fox" on television.  I left around 7:15, and Dwaine was bundled in bed, ready for some good sleep.  Like Fern, I pushed back my milk stool, gathered up my things, and headed to my car. 

Life happens around Dwaine.  People gravitate to him.  His heart is big and generous and open and willing to share whatever he has with whoever needs something.  He has always been Humble, and constantly puts others before himself.  But now he needs us.  If you want to send a special card of encouragement, I'm delivering them personally each morning.  We open them and read them together.  They are very uplifting to him.  He looks at them often.  If you get a chance, drop a card with a note in the mail to Dwaine Schmidt, 8552 E 29th Place, Denver, CO 80238. 

And if anyone tells him I compared him to a pig, they are in deep trouble.

Good Night and Sweet Dreams everyone!