Miracle Molly

Today, an in-patient rehabilitation institute released our daughter into home care and continued treatment on an outpatient basis. We are not sure yet where she will go. The facility that the recovery physician recommends can’t do intake assessment until mid-May. Another brain injury hospital could take her this month, but there is an insurance hang up to get by. Assessment is scheduled for later this week.

She did suffer brain damage from the incident, which I won’t yet discuss specifically. While her cognitive capabilities are seemingly quite recovered, a neuropsychologist told me that she nevertheless shows deficiencies in the five categories assessed for measuring brain function. For example, the double stroke caused memory loss, diminished reasoning and spatial capabilities, affected some motor functions, and left behind lingering pain in one foot.

Considering that on Day 2 of her hospital stay an ICU doctor offered option of ending all treatment and letting her pass away, our girl’s improvements are nothing short of miraculous. Not so long ago, the prognosis was bedridden with breathing and feeding tubes. As I write this sentence, her best friend wheels her on the sidewalk.

She came home with walker and wheelchair, characteristically showing same stubbornness as before her trauma with respect about being told what to do. Her willingness to move unfettered really exceeds her capabilities,  but the effort also is promising attitude for fullest recovery that she is capable.

Our daughter received occupational, physical, and speech therapies while at the rehab institute, and she will continue them on an outpatient basis. If there is a lapse in treatment, as I expect, a therapist will come to our place to work with her meanwhile.

Taking her in is bit of a burden that my wife and I share. Our daughter hasn’t really lived with us since going off to college 10 years ago. Our apartment is smallish, although two bedrooms—his and hers, at least for daytime activities and hobbies. Annie works with beads; my room is—or was—an office space, and my favorite one ever. This afternoon, I surrendered the room to our daughter.

She also snags the Belham Living Everett Mission Writing Desk that I have continuously used since May 2016. The optional hutch is perfectly positioned for our cats Cali and Neko, which love to look out at birds and squirrels. How could I deny them the view? Besides, no other location in the apartment is suitable enough for the desk.

That said, the kitties aren’t exactly warming up to intrusion into their space, even with the window’s allure. Neko typically spends much of the day sleeping on the bed in the office, and most evenings I open the window while he slinks on the perch. Meanwhile, Cali normally curls up atop the cat tree. Both act as evicted, since someone new took up residence in, ah, their territory. The irony: Our daughter looks forward to their presence; surely they will warm up to that, right?

Circling back to my pining on about my sacrifices: Pier 1 Imports may be gone but the Casabelle Mail Center that I purchased from the defunct retailer in April 2009 remains. The minimiliastic living room office returns! The real evictee isn’t either of the cats but me! I am happy for it. She lived. She is recovering. She isn’t in a vegetative state. She is Miracle Molly.

I used Samsung Galaxy S23 Ultra to take the Featured Image on March 31, 2023. She sits up in the rehab center bed. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 200, 1/60 sec, 70mm (film equivalent); 5:13 p.m. PDT. The portrait is composed as shot and is straight from the smartphone; no edits.