We’ve just had a week off for spring break. As homeschoolers, we certainly could have kept up the normal routine while our public school counterparts had the week off, but we decided to take our own break. We didn’t travel. We just enjoyed some simple pleasures at home. We played a lot of Pictionary. We played outside. We anxiously waited for a forecasted snowstorm that never came. We went to a movie. We read books. We spent a lot of time at the YMCA.
We happened to be at the pool when a Multiple Sclerosis Water Exercise class was about to begin. Not all participants had MS, but most of them were older and had some limitations in mobility. Side note: I love that the YMCA offers classes and exercise options across a huge range of ages and fitness levels. The family feel, the whole community feel, is largely what drew me to the Y over other gyms.
A gentleman who was waiting for the class, Bob, approached me to ask about my tattoo. I told him about my Ragnar Relay experience and that several from the team had gone to get tattoos together after the race. He told me that he had had a stroke six years ago and had been coming to this class for about 4 1/2 years. He told me that after his stroke he could only speak two words and had to relearn to speak, walk, everything. He remarked that now he “can’t get himself to shut up”. He was delightful. His zest for life was contagious. I can understand his enjoyment of his gift of gab. I imagine it is something he does not take for granted.
At times, I feel a similar sense of gratitude and enthusiasm to that of my new acquaintance, Bob. It took years after my heart surgery to really appreciate the gift I’d received. I resolved to make the most of my healthy heart, and for a while, I did. Then I began to let it slide, caught myself, and renewed my efforts to keep up healthy habits and do my best to hold on to this gift of good health. I was so happy to meet Bob, and I hope that we will see each other again at the Y. I think he gains something from sharing his story. You should have seen how he lit up talking to me and my children. He certainly gives in the course of sharing his experience. Inspiration. Encouragement.
Coincidentally, when I met Bob, I had just started reading The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, the true story of Jean-Dominique Bauby’s massive stroke and locked-in syndrome. His cognitive function remained excellent, but his brain could not communicate to the rest of his body, essentially leaving him trapped in his own body. His only means of communication was blinking his left eye. It was a touching book, heart-rending really. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it.
For those of us who are fortunate enough to enjoy good health, let us not take it, or any of our other blessings, for granted.