Written September 13, 2010 8:38 pm

Anita slept well through the night.  She was again quite alert and in decent spirits throughout the day.  She showed functional improvement in her right arm/hand, and right foot.  At one point, she requested a pen and paper to convey her thoughts, which were not clear (to me) by lip reading.  Her first two (2) written words in some time were "shot by...".  After a brief confusion, it became evident that she was directing our oldest son to get his senior portraits done by a friend of ours.  She had a short bout of Physical Therapy (PT) in the afternoon and managed to sit up on the side of the bed while assisted.  The attending doctor is a strong advocate that Anita move (have moved) her hands/arms and feet/legs as much as possible during the day.  Accordingly, all nurses/therapists (OT, PT, Rec, etc.) who plan on visiting Anita will be required to give her a bout of therapy during their visits!!!  Anita's PT exertions tire her, and she rested for the remainder of the day, while watching some television intermittently.

The television fills my brain with news every morning.  It flows into my head like the fluids from my IV that course through my veins.  It's there, but I don't need to digest it.  The "bus stop" report every morning reminds me just how long I have been here.  My kids are back in school.  The summer is over and my Junior and Senior boys are growing up fast.  Without me.   There are college applications, senior pictures, beginning of the year forms to be completed, lunches to be packed, decisions to be made.

The reality of my situation is overwhelming.  No one talks to me about the difficulties the boys are going through.  I know John is taking care of them, but he's here a lot.  So, who's taking care of him?  I guess everyone is trying to spare me any anxiety.  But my frustrations are real. They are mounting.   I can't talk to my kids.  I can't cry.  I can't scream or stomp my feet or shake my fists.

I hear the weather report for the school day.  If I were home I would recommend a rain jacket today.  The boys would grunt or chuckle before running out the door without one.  I recall what my neighbor says to his son, "if you're going to be stupid you gotta' be tough."  Oh how I wish I was home yelling at the boys to get out of bed right now. But I can't.  My roles; wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, dog caretaker are non existent.  I am a helper and a peacemaker in need.  Can someone help me?Now...for just a little while.