May 19th is creeping closer and closer. I really thought I would be more of a basket case. But I am doing ok. Tuesday was bad. Crazy panic attacks over random weird stuff - like forgetting to put a note in Emma's backpack about getting dropped off at a friend's house after school. I sat in the parking lot of the grocery store and panicked. Silly, because I could just drop off a note at the school - I probably could have even called. Probably triggered by the fact that Voc Rehab funds have run out and we have to pay out of pocket for transportation. After I got through Tuesday, however, things got eerily calm. I wonder if it is the eye of the storm. I hope not; I don't like my crazy self.
I hope that I will be ok. I think so. It helps to have examples. People who know on an intimate level what you are going through. In our case, other paraplegics.
We went to a hand cycle clinic we on Friday. We went to one in the fall but I think we still had that spooked rabbit aura about us so we didn't get anything from it. Jarrad didn't even try to ride the bike. So when he wanted to go to another one, I was ambivalent. It's not like we made any connections at the first one.
And I am glad I went.
There were a lot more people there and the lead therapist said that there were a lot of new faces so she had everyone introduce themselves. Of course, half way through the maintenance truck pulls up to empty the trash. That's ok; I really didn't care to know the names of the OT or PT students.
Everyone else just seemed so much more friendly or maybe I was just less scared. All about perspective, right? We met folks. Talked with folks about chairs and this and that - like if it got easier after the first year.
And Jarrad was the first to try the bike.
Who knows how I will feel next week. For right now, I am proud of my husband and I feel ok.
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