Unfortunately for me, the plan Piper and I came up with, using Ralph for guidance, keeps my time accounted for...all of it. Instead of sitting at home, I now accompany Piper to work, along with Phoenix. Dax drags me around the facility forcing me to do things out of my comfort zone; everyone alternates taking me to physical therapy and doctors' appointments, and I fill my time doing mundane work no one else has time to do. As much as I hate people treating me like I need a babysitter, having Dax around to do the therapy with makes it bearable. Not enjoyable, but I'm getting it done. I've noticed a huge improvement in my hand strength and my ability to walk in the two weeks he's been working with me. He'd make a great personal trainer if he decides to go into a new field.My physical therapist at the center has noticed the improvement as well. We, Piper and I, decided against telling my doctors about my faux pas for fear of losing my acceptance in the program and instead opted to make
Piper goes into an all-out fundraising mode. We've been fortunate, our out of pocket maximum was ten thousand dollars, and the insurance company picked up the remaining seven hundred thousand dollars in medical expenses from the hospitals and different treatment centers. Between the money we got from the gym, our 401K, and the sale of the condo, we were able to pay our portion as the bills came in but it wiped us out.Piper never once asked either of our parents for help. Had I not gotten into this program I have no idea how we would've paid for on-going physical therapy. I never thought she'd be the type to ask for a handout, especially financial but she's on a crusade to come up with four thousand dollars in a week's time to pay for the Aid. Having this contraption is the difference between night and day. I can walk unassisted. If I wear pants, no one can tell I have it on; my limp is almost undetectable. She sees what it does for my confidence, and she's determined to secure it fo
Admittedly, I'm not looking forward to the girl-time this weekend. It's not that I don't love my friends. I do, but for the first time in ages, I was anticipating time with my husband. Kissing him goodbye, I go to Cam's house early to talk to her about the loan for the Aid.I park in the circular driveway. I step out of the car and find myself standing at their front door. She and Dax live in a beautiful old farmhouse he restored years ago. I'm in awe of it every time I come by. I love the sound my knock makes on the solid wood. Dax opens the door, no shirt, jeans hung low on his hips, obviously commando, no socks, no shoes. I blush. Heavily. I should not be attracted to my husband's brother and my best friend's fiancé, but he's as beautiful as Moby was prior to the stroke. This family has amazing genes. Brooks and Landis are equally gorgeous in their own right.He swings the door wide, raising his arm to allow me to duck under it as he issues his greeting, "Hey, Pipes. You're e
Lavish is not an adequate word to describe the day Cam has planned for the Fish. We all meet at her house where a limo takes us, and our bags, to check into the swanky hotel downtown. It reminds me of high school prom. There's something youthful about riding in a limo with your girlfriends. I want to open the sunroof and hang out in a Pretty Woman tribute, but Cam will likely frown on that. The bellhop takes our luggage to our room while we pile back in the limo. Inside we're rewarded with fruit and champagne but given warning not to get full, as we have an appointment with the caterer after the dress fittings. The adult luxuries aren't prom-related, but the nostalgic feelings remain, along with a goofy grin and reminiscent thoughts.When the limo pulls up in front of The Crystal Sequin, the chauffeur opens the door to allow us to pour out onto the sidewalk in front of the lush store. The name sounds like a horrible strip club, but they're known for their selection of couture gowns,
It's a lonely weekend without Piper home. We did the tuxedo thing yesterday afternoon and went out to a bar last night, but when a litany of medications prevents you from drinking, it's just not enjoyable watching your friends get hammered.I've been sitting here with Phoenix all day, getting up as much as possible to take him out, play in the yard, and for short walks, but for some reason, every joint in my body hurts. It hurts to sit; it hurts to stand; it hurts to walk. I tried a hot bath, I've taken Tylenol since I can't take anything else with all the other medications and blood pressure issues, I've tried massaging the aches away, but I can't escape pain. The last thing I want is Piper to come home to me on the couch, with nothing done, but I'm literally finding movement difficult. Nothing eases the pain and stiffness in my joints. I had all these grandiose plans to try to get some housework and laundry done. I wanted to start dinner. It was important to me she come home and
The following weeks bring more of the same. Once again, Piper's back to essentially being a full-time caregiver. We've been to countless doctors, specialists, internists, rheumatologists, and nutritionists; at last count, we've seen seventeen unique doctors or homeopathic specialists in three cities, all with the same result. None of them has a clue why I'm in such debilitating pain, and none have been able to relieve it longer than the narcotic lasts.Initially, I worried I'd become addicted to the painkillers. Now I'm afraid I'm going to die before someone can diagnose the problem. Once again I'm confined to a wheelchair, unable to walk because the pain is so severe. My wife helps me to the bathroom, bathes me, dresses me, feeds me. Every movement is more painful than the last.My rehabilitation process has completely halted since I can't do any of the work. None of my therapists have ever seen anything in a stroke patient like I'm experiencing. Piper has an obsession with findin
"Moby," I hear someone calling my name, but they're so far away I don't recognize it."Moby." Their insistence is beginning to irritate me. There's more than one voice, but I'm unable to distinguish who they belong to over the hum of the television. The fingers on my face smell like the lavender soap in the bathroom. When they pry my eyes open, there stands a blurry Dax, with Brooks and Landis in the background. Unable to focus on them, they allow my lids to close, or maybe it was my inability to communicate with them. Inability or unwillingness, I'm unsure which.Floating in and out of awareness, I fight like hell to regain my bearings when I hear Piper breaking down. I see her between the slits sobbing into her hands; my brother's arms are wrapped around her to keep her from sinking. Reaching toward her in an effort to comfort her, I start to fall. "Whoa, Moby. Just stay still. The paramedics are on the way." My oldest brother. Always taking care of everyone else. "Piper's
The lights are bright, so fucking white they're blinding. My head is pounding but for the first time in months, I don't feel pain-my hips, my knees, my arms, none of them hurt. Turning my head to the side, I attempt to peek through my lids. Next to me sits my wife balled up in a plastic chair, her head resting on her folded arm. She looks miserably uncomfortable, and she's not wearing the clothes she had on this morning. I don't wake her or call for the nurse. Sleep lures me back into the veil of darkness where I'm comfortably numb. "He's moved around some, but I don't think he's woken up." Piper's voice is still that of an angel no matter how many times I hear it."We're keeping him pretty heavily dosed on morphine to ward off the pain until we can figure out what's causing it. It will be difficult for him to come out of it as long as he continues to receive it. If he does, it will be fleeting, maybe a minute or two. His vitals are strong, so rest is the best thing we can give