Rollercoaster

Today, I broke down. I saw Rem in too much pain - both back and left foot. He had tears, which I immediately took as pain he could not handle. I panicked and cried. Bad move on my part. I scared Rem even more.

At that time, I just felt that his spasms are getting worse, although Uncle Sam reminded us that movement is better for his legs ("The legs are trying to find a connection to his brain."). I did not understand the difference between spasms and voluntary movements. Jeff explained it to me over and over again, but still, I thought negatively, that the movement was a bad thing for Rem.

I called Sterling, crying. He might have asked Jeff to put some sense into me (which I think he really did!). Jeff told me that I am the integral part of this whole situation:

"Your brother, your mom, your family and Sterling depend on you. You have to be strong for them. This is going to be a long road. If your brother is like that for a year, will you be like that for a year - When it's good days for Rem, you're happy; when it's bad days for Rem, you'll cry like crazy! You'll affect everybody - your family, your relationship with Sterling and your friends. If you cannot be that strong person, then just tell me. We will find someone to fill it in. Think about it tonight."

How can this not pierce my heart and make me think?

*I need more prayers. Sometimes, I catch myself giving up.

Blame it on the Rain

Rainy season is here once again. It indeed dampens my mood and creates sad thoughts in my head. I find myself thinking what could have been done to avoid "The Accident."

A little update on Rem's status. It has been 2.5 months since the accident. He is still in the hospital; he still has his trach on. Although he has been suffering more pain lately, his spirit is still as positive as before. His improvement amazes me. He can feel his legs now; a lot of twitching going on down there (although doctors say it's spasm, which is apparently not good for SCI patients). He can move his arms up to his head, sometimes scratching it on his own. He is able to operate his power wheelchair, even asking the nurse to speed it up.

This is just the beginning of a long road to recovery. Once he gets to the rehabilitation center, we are praying that his movements will further improve until once again, he will walk and be normal again.

So, back to my topic, I feel sad. A thought constantly rings in my head: I should not have asked him to move to Vancouver nor should I have asked him to go to Calgary with me. This could not have happened to him. He could have been back home studying and enjoying his friends' company or fixing his car. Or he could have been at work here, washing cars or maybe have even moved up to a Lot Manager by now. We could have been planning our little trips together and could be talking about our supposed recent skydiving adventure. I could imagine us talking about how sucky weather is or the latest Kevin Federline song/video. I could picture him showing me funny videos on YouTube or commercials that he downloaded. We could have been watching the latest Prison Break episode together in the comfort of our living room. Instead, he is lying helpless in the hospital bed, not knowing what the future holds for him, not knowing if he will be able to enjoy his life ever again. And it pains me to see him like that, because I know I could have done something to avoid this from happening to him.

It is definitely guilt that I feel. People may say I should not blame myself, that he will recover, that we should not listen to what the doctors tell us. But what do they know? What do I know? I cannot clearly explain what my exact feelings are; it's a bit of a mess: I am confused. I am not patient enough to know the future. I am physically and emotionally drained. What I do know is that I cannot show this to Rem. Never ever! I have to stay strong for him, I have to stay positive for him. Through his bad and worse times, I have to be. It's not easy, but I really really have to.

I draw comfort in his smile, because even the faintest of smiles gives me hope and faith. The brightness of his smile gives me strength to fight through this with him.