The good news is that my doctor anticipates that the foot should be better within a week, as long as I take care of it. If it isn't, she will send me to a foot specialist to have another look. It doesn't look bad, hardly visibly swollen and not bruised or discolored at all. It just feels pretty sore.
It was a long day yesterday. I fell into bed without even doing my speech therapy exercises before bed, something I hardly ever miss. I was gone from the house from 11:45-7:30 last night, riding the special needs bus, "Access," from one appointment to the next. I explained to my therapist that this is intimidating, not because I'm not well cared-for, but because I have rarely been totally on my own any time in over 18 months, so I just don't have much confidence or self-reliance. I guess every time I do this sort of thing, I regain a little a little independence again. My counselor says that being in stroke recovery is my occupation, my full-time job. I certainly never dreamed that recovery would still be so much work, a year and a half into this journey!!! (Thanks to my mom who has set aside her own normal life to make me her full-time life too!)
Riding the bus puts me in contact with all kinds of interesting new people. Yesterday I rode with one lady who was in an electric wheel chair and had little control over her head, whipping it from side to side, like I did for several weeks after my last three strokes. It hit me hard that that's the exact position I would be in right now, had not God allowed me such healing over the past year. I sat behind her and fought tears, for her, for myself, for the entire situation, for nearly an hour.
Something that she could do that had me in absolute awe (because I cannot), was hold a baby! She got onto the bus with a child strapped into an infant carrier she held on her lap (ingenious idea!). Her hands were crumpled, but she had one thumb she could securely hook through the infant carrier, leaving her other arm free to gently pat the child's legs in comfort. She was obviously an excellent mother and I was enthralled with her skill and obvious devotion to this child. He occasionally made some contented little sound, but was otherwise the quietest child I had ever observed. It wasn't until she got off at her stop that I could see the exquisite face of the, I would guess about 3 month, little boy that looked exactly like his Mama.
It wasn't until the bus driver re-boarded the bus after escorting her to her door that the other lady on the bus questioned him about the child. I was stunned to learned that he wasn't a real baby at all, rather a life-like doll! I really had no idea. Apparently she has several of these, of various expressions, and travels with one of them daily, treating them as real children. How my heart aches! Eventually, maybe I will learn some of the back story there. I hate how the bus situates each client rather separately so that there is little chance for conversation or interpersonal interaction.
The lady behind me was nearly in tears because she heard me answer a brief phone call from my mom and she is struggling over the upcoming weekend without her own mother still alive. I wished I could have talked with her more too! The entire day was a profound reminder of my abundance of blessing in my own mom, that I have been ever-so-blessed to be entrusted with my children (twice over, not only that they are here at all, but this will be our first Mother's Day they have been home since the strokes), and for the leaps and bounds of health improvement I have been given, far beyond all medical anticipation! Yesterday was summed up with heavy reminders that, "But for the grace of God, go I!"