Holding Feet

Dad had a lunch appointment yesterday so I got to take mom to her physical therapy appointment. I didn't know what to expect at this appointment. Would it mimic the PT sessions I had when I sprained an ankle where they made me hop on that poor ankle until tears sprang out of my eyes? Would it be more of a therapeutic massage type session? Would it point out to me all of the things that she is losing the ability to do? Would it hurt her? Would I be able to handle it? I'm not going to lie, I was anxious and emotional before we even got there.

When we got there, her therapist pointed to his watch letting us know that we were 1 minute late - mom blamed it on her new driver (me). They joke - this is good I thought. Then we went into the office and I learned that they always have a sock war on mom's therapy days. She had mentioned this war but I thought it was for all of the patients. Nope, it's her. One of the therapists was in flats with no socks and she was in disbelief when she saw mom. "Oh no!!! I thought you were coming tomorrow!!" she said. Then she turned to another trainer, "Julia! I thought you said she was coming tomorrow!" Julia said, "No, you asked me and I told you Tuesday." This banter went on and on and it was so touching to me that not only do they participate in sock wars with mom but they think about her and when she's coming in. They think about her when they don't have to. It warmed my heart.

Then the therapy began. It was a lot of stretching and focusing on her right leg (Chester, the bad one) and right ankle. There were moments when I could tell it was uncomfortable for her. That was hard. Then he started working on her right shoulder. That is the arm she is having the most trouble moving and because of that, she has started to develop a locked shoulder. He really had to get in there to work on the shoulder and it really hurt her. I could tell because she smiled. She and Phoebe both smile when something really, really hurts. Then she grimaced and I almost punched the therapist right in the neck meat. I didn't know what to do. Do I tell him to stop? Do I ask her if she's ok when I can tell that she's hurting? Do I ask to see his credentials? Do I stand back and let him do the job that I know he knows how to do? How do I support my mom and let her know that I'm there without interfering? So, I held her foot. That's when the tears came.

When I was in elementary school, I had to have a CAT scan or MRI, I can't remember which. They thought there was something funky going on behind my eye and needed a closer look. My mom was with me through every bit of that and when they took me back for the scan, mom said she was going with me. They said that usually parents wait in the observation room but, not mine. She took off everything that was metal, including her glasses, and sat in that room for over an hour and held my foot. There was nothing she could do for me while I was in that tube and she couldn't talk to me because I couldn't hear her... so she held my foot. She held my foot so I would know that she was there. She sat there with no glasses on, no phone, no book, nothing but her love for me and my foot. So I stood through the rest of that therapy session and held her foot. I held her foot so she would know that I was there and that I love her beyond the beyond.

Here's to holding feet.

-Cat