It's May and the magnolia tree in the front lawn is blooming. The winter Texans (Bryan's parents) have come and gone and my dad is home after a long, long journey bouncing through hospitals and rehab facilities. Almost half of a year has slipped through my fingers, yet it seems as though we've only just begun.
The month of April was consumed with preparing the house and the household for my dad's return. We renovated the entire main bathroom for wheelchair accessibility, as well as made both main bedroom closets more accessible and functional. The renovation took a lot longer than expected (they always do), the mess was a lot larger than expected (an entire dumpster in our driveway), and my mom had a lot more anxiety about the entire project than expected. Final result? My dad now has a wheel-up vanity and a wheel-in shower, big enough to fit four people. Even with these modifications, my mom and the caregiver are still struggling with wheelchair to bed / chair / toilet transfers. My mom is back to not sleeping again, change is hard for all of us but particularly tough on her anxiety.
As much as I love having my dad at home, this transition period is hard. Bryan and I live 30 minutes away and can't conveniently drop by to help. It also isn't helpful that my dad was used to being waited on, hand and foot, at his previous rehab facility. Now he needs to push himself more and further but is too easily lulled into comfort and sleep.
When we started down this path last September, the mantra was to take things one day at a time. It's too easy to fall into the trap of planning and over planning, if only to try to exert some semblance of control over the situation. However, that control is an illusion and the best that we can do right now is remain as flexible as possible, taking one day at a time.
Everyone who is struggling with their own daily battle and isn't sure that they'll be able to make it through, I see you and I am there with you and for you. Day by day, we'll get there.