Every Journey Starts with One Step

I dashed out yesterday morning  as the sun rose to cross-country ski before heading out to the hospital to sit with my mom. I haven't cross-country skied in a year. The opportunity doesn't arise often in NC, but there was plenty of snow in NY...as well as frigid temperatures. I am in NY with my ailing Mom during record cold in NY! Lucky me! I set out to cross-country ski, well-bundled. The temperature was a toasty three degrees.

Within minutes, I was sweating. My heart was pounding. My legs were jelly. My cross-country ski muscles were not in very good shape. I intended to ski an hour, and could not believe it when I checked my watch, expecting ten hours must have elapsed. What??? Only fifteen minutes had gone by! I rested. I never use to have to rest after just fifteen minutes of skiing. Ah well. I was going to have to recondition my muscles. Every journey starts with one step. Don't be dismayed, I told myself.

My Mama had major abdominal surgery. She was still in the ICU, day two of surgery, when she was told she needed to get up and walk.
"I would rather lie here," she said.
"I'm sure you would," said the nurse, "But if you want to go home you have to be able to walk."
So we let mom know what was needed to get out of the hospital: walk, eat a minimum of 1100 calories a day to regain her strength, and drink prodigious amounts of water to keep her hydrated.
"I want to go for a walk," she told me, now understanding discharge prerequisites.

So she did a lap around the ICU that day. I timed her: 1 minute 5 seconds. The next day, she wanted to do a lap again. This time, she asked me to time her. It was clear my mama was on a mission to get discharged. She was power-walking, with the IV stand having a hard time keeping up. As we passed the doctors and nurses, my mom told them, "I ran a marathon when I was fifty." She mentioned that a few times when doctors glanced up as she sauntered along.

"We should make you a shirt that says that," said my sister.
"I would wear a shirt like that," she said.
She did the lap fifteen seconds faster than her previous lap.
"She is determined to get out of here," whispered my sister.

In the ICU, she was running a more important marathon than the one she ran when she was fifty.

She drank water constantly, despite not being fond of drinking water. She drank the high calorie nutritional aid she didn't really like, and ate food she couldn't taste, and really didn't want. She was running a race, and her goal was discharge from the hospital.

Meanwhile, I had a secret plan. My dad helped me work out the details.

Mom asked to walk laps again. She did two laps in a row this time. She was moved out of ICU to a regular room. Progress! The nurses told her that if her home environment involved stairs (it does), she would have to go to a rehab center till she was safe to do stairs. That meant an unexpected two more weeks incarcerated, away from home!

Mom put on makeup the morning of her rehab evaluation. She looked very perky. (Just as an FYI, my first attempt at helping her with the eyeliner would indicate I should forget becoming a make-up artist as any career goal.) She applied the eyeliner perfectly, however, on her own. When the therapists arrived, Mom looked like she was ready for a photo shoot.

She passed the Occupational Therapy (OT) eval with flying colors. The Physical Therapy (PT) was next, and would assess her on stairs. I followed, taking note of what the therapists were doing with her. I am an occupational therapist, though haven't practiced in several years. Still, it's like riding a bike. It all comes back with a little refreshing. Maybe I could help with her rehab so she could go home sooner....

When the PT led my mom to the stairs, Mom shot up the entire flight.
"Slow down!" said the PT.
After all the evaluations, they asked if I would be there to oversee her rehab, and monitor her. There were two options now for her. We both leaned in closer, listening intently. She needed rehab to be safe. Either she could do two weeks remaining in a rehab hospital, or she could go home if I agreed to oversee her therapy, and be sure she was always monitored the first few days, someone with her 24/7. The therapist asked if that were possible.

"Of course!" I put my family on notice that I would not be home for at least two weeks. I was going to be an OT again. (And live in the frozen tundra north of the Mason-Dixon line again.)
The therapists left, and the nurses were all murmuring yesterday about Mom's possible discharge today. We were all hopeful.

I dashed out, picked up my mom's secret surprise, and returned.
Here it is:

Rush order long sleeve t-shirt by Instant Face Place, Binghamton, NY

Before my dad and I return today to the hospital, with high hopes of bringing Mom home, I am going to cross-country ski again. I intend to go a little further and a little faster. I didn't run a marathon at age fifty, but I am very inspired by someone who did.
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Zechariah 4:10
For who hath despised the day of small things? for they shall rejoice, and shall see the plummet in the hand of Zerubbabel with those seven; they are the eyes of the LORD, which run to and fro through the whole earth.

Luke 16:10
He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much: and he that is unjust in the least is unjust also in much.