Gratitude

It is with such a warm heart that I sit down to write this post this morning. I just had breakfast with Beth--the first time in a while that we've eaten together!--and the first time in a loooonnnnggg while that I've seen her in Boulder. The minute I entered Boulder Community's doors and walked along the slate entrance tiles, I had a good feeling. (I'm guessing that it helps that it involves a five-minute commute from home with the blue sky and the mountains in view the whole time!) Then seeing her in her room, with the green and yellow paint scheme, the art on the walls, the comfy easy chair, the almost-view of the Flatirons, the sun pouring in her window--and you really get the feeling that she is home. The healing is just oozing out of the place. And as great a job as they did in Denver, they are focused there on trauma and fixer-upping. Now she is in a place focused on care and on getting her home. It feels so right.


After Beth and I ate our oats, we got down to the real reason I was there today: the rat's nest she has been cultivating for the past 12 days, formally known as her hair. OMFG. That girl has serious dreadlocks going on. I came armed with a plus-size bottle of leave-in conditioner (at first I was putting a little in my palms and working it in; by the end I was just dousing her in it) and a wide-tooth comb. Yes, I took photos before  starting because I knew she would never believe that her head could actually look like a study in modern art. I spent 45 minutes on it and each lock freed was a massive victory. We didn't get through the whole thing because the occupational therapist came in to prep her for a shower, so will tackle it again later. The OT had to "waterproof" Beth beforehand--ankle, toe, arm, clavicle, chest tube site--with plastic but there was still some skin left over to clean by the time she wheeled her off. 


Beth had some great rest last night and seemed really settled and ready to tackle what is ahead; wonderful, because her dance card is full these days. She has minimum 3 hours of therapy per day--physical and speech (the speech part is just to check for possible neurological damage, of which there appears to be none, but they have to make sure). She has to get dressed every day and start living more "normally" than she has been. No more slumming it in her open-backed gown. They will be teaching her how to shower, walk stairs, do things around the house, etc., so that she can be released to her home without any professional assistance (except Matt, of course--the consummate professional assistant these days!) Her nurse talked about upping her pain meds somewhat, because unless her pain is low-grade she won't be able to do the therapies. And also starting to use ice as part of her healing.


Beth and I have been talking a lot about gratitude lately, and how much we truly have if we only are willing to focus on what is there, instead of what isn't. I have been doing some research on the science of gratitude for a project at work this past while (funny how these things always seem to converge), and I read an essay the other day in which the author said that her practice of gratitude is such that before she opens her eyes in the morning, she thanks her bed for a good night's sleep. It flows out from there. Another woman, sitting with her dying mother who was in pain, asked her how she was feeling and her mom said something along these lines: "I can see the roses in the garden. The sun is coming in the window. And I'm having a delicious cup of tea with my daughter. Sometimes, you get it all."