And…. we’re back

So. Tired. Worn out to the bone. This is pathetic. I’m 35 years old (35½, actually, as of Monday ), and I can’t run half a block without feeling stiff and battered an entire day later. What gives? Perhaps the fact that I don’t exercise? I was on my 3rd successful day of a new exercise regimen when R had the stroke last July, and for some reason the regimen got jettisoned along with all sorts of other things. Heh. See, back then I was starting it because I wanted to be healthy and improve my energy level; now, I think I’d better start one as a matter of survival. Whew. I am wiped, I tell you. Wiped.

Oh, wait, did you want to hear any news about R?

Well for one thing, she has the body and energy level of a healthy seven year-old, as opposed to the body of… um… me. That’s why I ran half a block, see. Because during the Big Day of Testing yesterday, we had an hour or so for lunch, and there was a kosher establishment in walking distance from SuperStroke Hospital, and so we were walking, only R wasn’t walking, she was running, and she decided I should run too. “Come on, Ima, let’s go!” I believe were her precise words, as she grabbed my hand and bounced up and down eagerly while attempting to pull me forward. Heh. So at first I kept saying “Oh come on, R, I’m too old to run!”, but when she didn’t buy that, I decided to be a good sport and try running. YIKES. That’s the last time I try that, I tell you, at least until I get my old self whacked into shape a bit.

Oh wait, I’m doing it again. Sorry. Enough about me. (P.S. I’m tired.)

So, there was a Big Day of Testing yesterday (fully neuropsych workup, for those of you who know what that means, with a special SuperStroke pediatric neuropsychologist) (um, hello, God? THANK YOU FOR CREATING A SPECIAL SUPERSTROKE PEDIATRIC NEUROPSYCHOLOGIST), and it was fine. I sat in the waiting area trying, unsuccessfully, to get my dearly beloved laptop to turn on, which it wouldn’t , and finally I gave up and pulled out my secret weapon of my baby siSter’s antiquated dinosaur laptop, which I’d borrowed because I’d had a feeling mine might not go on, and I used it to work on my copyediting while R was being tested. I couldn’t get online, though, but at least I got work done.

HEY WAIT, ENOUGH ABOUT ME.

So of course all the tests need to be scored and so forth, and then we go back to SuperStroke for the feedback session, but in the meantime the doc told me that she does not anticipate any major surprises in the results, and that everything she saw was consistent with what I’d told her beforehand. And of course, R charmed the daylights out of her, and she does with everyone, all the time, no matter what. Everyone loves her. Everyone.

Everyone.

So that was all fine, and then last night G joined us at my dear, dear, dearest friend TNH’s house, and this morning he and R and I went back to the hospital to meet with Dr. SuperStroke and various members of the SuperStroke team. G had brought with him a CD containing the post-TIA MRI images from January, and Dr. SuperStroke examined the images as compared with the Super Duper MRI images from December, which she’d seen already, and for some reason I’m feeling very protective of the details and don’t want to go into much, but I will tell you this: It is likely — not definite, but likely – that the arterial narrowing will not continue to worsen, even though it did worsen between July and September. I literally found this out less than four hours ago, and I’m still absorbing it along with the rest of the information, but I didn’t want to make everyone wait, since I know at least a few people will be refreshing iMiriam all day long hoping for an update. Like I said, I’m still absorbing, and I’ve learned by now that my emotional responses to these things tend to be delayed a bit, so for the moment I’m withholding further expressions of anything. But I know that this is very good news, and that we might be able to close the door on that particular section of the uncertainty. But since this whole area of medical knowledge, etc. is very murky in general, we can’t assume that any door is ever closed forever. Heh. Learned that lesson, I have.

But still: Very good news.

Anyway, I apologize but that’s all for now. Thanks for checking in, and for caring about my child, and please continue to include the name בתיה רחל בת מרים שלומית (that’s me, by the way, that second part) (because I’m the mother of the חולה, see) in your prayers for a complete רפואה שלמה, along with the rest of the חולי ישראל. We’re deeply grateful to all (for real). And once again I’ll mention (can’t really do much more than mention this sort of thing) my indescribable gratitude to Hashem, for giving us this precious little girl, and for choosing us to be the guardians of this uniquely multicolored and spectacular נשמה, and for saving her life so many times, and for leading us to the miraculous doctors and specialists and sub-specialists and sub-sub-sub specialists who have been able to guide us, and to allow us to believe that there is comfort in the darkness. קטנתי מכל החסדים ומכל האמת. Have a wonderful and peaceful Shabbat of much rest for tired old bones.

Tags: Stroke