It’s Saturday night. So we went out.
Tom slipped into the wheelchair with amazing ease – just one day of rehab did that.
We signed out and took the elevator to the first floor. No chaperone.
“This is a DATE, right?” I said, our old joke.
I pushed him outside, and showed him the outdoor obstacle course with different kinds of pavement and surfaces. Patients come here to test their abilities in chairs, with walkers, with prosthetics.
It looks like fun, in a way. A challenge to look forward to. Tom does well with missions. He was an Army Ranger.
In the first few days after his stroke, Tom was exerting tremendous effort to get his right side to move even a little.
The physical therapist watched him and said, “Don’t hold your breath!” He was.
Like so many efforts in life, you just have to remember to breathe.
We settled down at the benches overlooking a bit of green space. We admired the flowers and swatted a few mosquitoes. We talked and laughed. And breathed.
He looks so good.
It was the first time Tom had been able to just sit outside, in these 10 days.
First chance to breathe the air outdoors.
I stood behind him for awhile, giving him Reiki in two hand positions on his head.
I could feel the thick area in his brain. I directed the energy flow there.
He relaxed in the chair. He was ready for bed.
Today’s penny is a 2000. That’s the year I met Tom and the year I learned Reiki.