Grayson is doing very well. His new schedule has been adopted fairly well and he is glad for his afternoon "friends" (aka respite) to spend time with and attends, without complaint, all of his therapies, classes and appointments. We are still consistently concerned for his state of agitation but are well versed in the early warning signs, pivoting, redirecting, orienting and the ever popular PRN (medication given as needed) so his days are generally quite relaxed and calm, but not without some work and effective practices.
His therapists and other professionals have all mentioned his improvement across the board and infer that we can still expect more of the same in the coming months. We are glad for that and glad that G will continue to take those painfully small baby steps facilitated by his routine of the three H's (health, happiness and healing). We are both grateful every day for his presence in our lives. In my case, I am grateful that we do have him as opposed to the alternative and juxtaposing those two and reducing to the proportional difference, my gratitude can still eclipse what would have been a mountain of grief, but only when compared with the mountain.
All kidding aside, I feel fatigued and helpless with no end in sight, none whatsoever. I feel like we have been through the ringer, around the block, keel-hauled and quartered. What was really more of a Nelson/Cleaver American family has become some sort of Bates Motel for me. What was my restful safe haven is now more of a labor camp. The fantasies I held closely about grandkids to visit and new parents to impart wisdom to have been thrown out the window. The blissful notions of gracefully growing old and retiring with my companion need to be rewritten with expectations much lower and with a somewhat less than happy ending. I apologize to you tribe members for the whining, I appreciate you letting me be honest and for not judging my weaknesses.