Mother

It was a lazy afternoon when we spoke.  If I remember correctly, she was the last patient I saw for that day. For confidentiality's sake let us call her Ms S.  Ms. S is one of my favorites.  She is easy to be with, has a sarcastic sense of humor which is of course to my taste, and we often talk about silly things during therapy.  But what started out as a light conversation while she was on the exercise bike eventually led to something serious, sad even.  Here is Ms S' story:

Me: Ms S, you seem to have pretty eyes, what color were they before you got old and wrinkly?
                *we both laugh*
Ms S: Well there were blue, but now it's more of a blue-gray.  I also had rich blonde hair.
Me: You must've been beautiful back then.
Ms. S: I'm not sure about beautiful, but I think I was pretty.
Me: Wow talk about confidence huh?  *we both laugh* I'm sure many guys wanted to date you.
Ms. S: Well yes I did have many of them.  Until I met my husband.
Me: Is you husband handsome?
Ms S: Yes he was.  The girls were always chasing him.
Me: Even after he married you?
Ms S: More so even after he married me. Hihihi.
Me: Seriously? So you mean he had an affair?
Ms S: Oh yes he did.
Me: With different women?
Ms S: Not really.  He had this one woman for so long...

As Ms S shared her story with me, I can feel like she is holding back tears.  She opened up her heart for me, and out gushed her emotions.  Something she kept by herself for so long, to so few.  I must be one of the precious few she trusted enough to hear her story.

Ms S: I always knew he was unhappy with me.  We had three girls already and I can't seem to make him feel happy or proud of me.  There is a distance in his eyes and his arms that stops us from getting close.  And then I got pregnant again, and this time it was a boy.  I thought having a baby boy for him would make him happy, but I was wrong.  He grew more distant.  And though we lived under the same roof, I knew he didn't love me.  He loved his other woman....

And so it went on.  I learned that the other woman stayed remained until they got old and gray.  I asked Ms S., " So did you fight back? Did you fight for your husband?"

She said, "I wanted to but I didn't.  I didn't want any trouble. I was busy anyhow tending to the kids. But one day I almost did.  He took his woman with him to our home. Well she didn't come in but I saw her pickup truck outside.  I wanted to grab her and slap her.  But I was thinking of the kids. It would break them.  I'd rather they have an illusion of a happy home that shatter their lives by revealing to them that their dad is a cheat.  I'd rather keep the pain to myself than bear it on the children.  So I never told them.  Even until now, they don't know..."

"I kept thinking what made him unhappy with me.  It's maybe because I don't drink too much or party too much like he does.  I don't have his lifestyle.  So I can't make him happy.  But I took care of him when he got sick.  I took care of him until he passed. That woman never even came to see him"

"Do you love him that much?"

"I don't know.  I love my kids more. I was a mother first and a wife second. You can call it love, you can call it loyalty.  I did the best I could.  You know I never tell many people about this.  Not even some of my closest friends know."

"So I guess I'm special huh?," I smiled.  She gave a small laugh, "I guess, honey, I guess you are."

**********************************************************************************

Life is a matter of perspective.  You can call it unconditional love, unwavering loyalty or spineless martyrdom. Her story took a lifetime to realize.  She wanted to protect the unhappy marriage because she wanted to protect the kids.  Is this sacrifice a sullen form of idiocy, a sad and lonely state of passive aggression or is it because she wants to set him free?  Is it worth it in the end? Is your love worth fighting for after all?

Pikchoors

Just because I don't have an expensive camera and I  absolutely have zero know-how with photo editing doesn't mean I can't take good pictures.  And take note: I just took snapshots I didn't really focus too well on every detail. Enjoy! (as if you'll enjoy this hahaha)

Dusk Amidst A Perfect Sky

Light and Shade

Entrance of Colors

Arms Raised to the Heavens


And my favorite picture:

Cherry Blossoms

Shame

Today is the 9th of March, a couple of months has passed since I got here to find myself a more decent livelihood, perhaps a better life for me and my family.  In my two months, I've had a lot of fun learning experiences I want to share with you, if you still manage to read my blog.  Anyway, here we go.

Let me start by saying that I haven't cried yet since I got here.  Crying is supposed to be one of the stages I have to pass through being away from family and all.  But no, I haven't, although at one point I almost did.  I suppose I'm happy to distract myself by watching TV and playing computer games and drown the world out.  I am learning again how to work with patients, something I haven't done in a long time.  I am learning how to be relevant again in my chosen career and by the grace of the Heavenly Boss little by little I am regaining my confidence in patient care.

Today, the 9th of March, I felt so ashamed of myself.  I am a proud man most of the time.  But today I am ashamed of myself.

Amy is my boss at the workplace and Jenny is a PT assistant.  They were the first PTs ever when the facility I working in now opened more than a couple years ago.  I have great admiration for both of them.  I don't know if I can call them my friends, or what friendship entails in this part of the planet, but I admire both of them.  Not only do they have great ethic at work, they embody what a physical therapist should really be.  On the sides, while I'm working with my patients I steal glances and learn how they deal with their own.  I am amazed by the smoothness and grace of their patient handling, their efficiency and how well they manage their time with patients.  Most of all, my greatest admiration comes from their ardent desire to fight for every patient, to ensure that every patient gets the best care they need.  With Jenny especially, she has this tremendous passion to help her patients.  Now where does the shame on my part fit in here?  Lemme explain.

Several days ago I evaluated a patient with a bagful of complicated pathology including a viral encephalitis that he got from simple knee arthoscopy.  He looked like he was in terrible shape and that no amount of therapy would ever get him back to where he was before.  I told some people at the office that I didn't know why they even him to a skilled nursing facility when they should've sent him to hospice.  He clearly is gonna be a vegetable and it's pointless to even give him therapy.  It then surprised me during team meeting a couple days after when his name was mentioned and Jenny goes on a barrage of let's try this, let's try that on him.  And in my mind I was like Oh c'mon goodluck on your dream to have him get any better +2 max assist on everything zzzzzzz.  Jenny said, I am not ready to give up on him just yet.

I am not ready to give up on him just yet.  I am not ready to give up on him just yet....

Today, I saw the patient sitting on a good new wheelchair fitted for him by Amy and Jenny.  He was sitting with good trunk control.  He does look better.  I wouldn't really know how much progress he will make but yes he does look better.  He didn't seem as useless as I expected him to be.  I felt ashamed of myself.  Here I am calling someone useless, never gonna get better without even giving it a try.  I judged him based on that first assessment and condemned him to being an infirm, an invalid for the rest of his life.  I haven't given it my all.  I had given up too quickly.

I am not a religious person but I consider myself somewhat spiritual.  I will not say God-stuff just to impress people or what ever bullcrap you do with it.  But I know one thing.  Me seeing Amy and Jenny work their asses off to help that patient was no accident.  It was part of my Heavenly Boss' masterplan for me.  He showed me why I am a physical therapist, why He pushed me towards service for others.  Through Amy and Jenny, He showed me my purpose in life.  With that, the shame starts ebbing away and a new sense of determination slowly sets in. I may not be the best therapist there is clinically, but hell I will try.  I will not take the easiest way out each time I encounter a difficult case.

This is my mission.  God hasn't given up on me just yet and so will I to the patients I serve.