In my line of work, you literally see everything. In the course of one day, I can guide an athlete back to running for the first time following a major surgery, I can work with a patient to decide which assistive device would be best to meet the needs of their declining functional mobility and I can spend an entire session helping a husband cope with his wife's diagnosis of a neuromuscular disease and a prognosis of 3-5 years, at best, of declining function until she passes away. I have days where every patient seems to be making significant progress towards their goals and I have days where every patient is losing ground. My role is part PT, part psychologist and part mentor. I am always being watched; watched by patients, my co-workers, my supervisors and by students aspiring to be therapists.
This week, I have been struck by the importance of choosing a mate whom you would do absolutely anything for... despite their physical abilities, their mental capabilities or emotional status.
I have been working with an older gentleman following a routine shoulder replacement who happens to be the primary caregiver for his wife. Today, he brought her in to meet me. Within seconds of meeting her, I realized why it is difficult for my patient to schedule appointments, why it is difficult for him to spend time in the pool doing therapy and why he is lagging behind in gaining range of motion. She has been living with Alzheimer's disease for the past 10 years and his rehab cannot be his priority.
A second patient whom I just met today, was recently diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. His wife accompanied him for the session. This was my first time meeting them, so I was careful to watch every movement he made so I could begin piecing together my assessment of his physical capabilities. About 2 minutes into our session, his wife completely broke down, citing his decline in function and recent diagnosis as the reason for her tears. We spent nearly the next 40 minutes discussing expectations as the disease progresses and what my role would be in their care. The patient was also having a difficult time, but it was clear the burden of care had landed on the wife.
And this got me thinking. So often, we live in the present. And I am all for that, as I have a tendency to be an "ultra-planner" and try to plan out every detail of my life. But all to often, I am so concentrated on my present needs (wants) that I forget God's plan. I get frustrated that I am still single and I "have it out" with God because I (selfishly) feel like he is withholding happiness from me by "keeping me single". And the men I have dated lately, have certainly been fantastic people, but not the one for me. Its like I have tried to make them fit into my life, despite all signs pointing to them not fitting. Like a puzzle piece that is so similar to another, that if jammed in with force, it can fit in another's spot.
And then I am reminded of these patient's and their spouses. I desire to be with someone that no matter what changes, I will continue to honor him "for better or worse, in sickness and in health". There is a reason those lines are recited at weddings. Its not for the first few years of marriage; its meant for years 40, 50, 60, etc. They were written so that when one spouse suffers a traumatic brain injury that leaves them a changed man, his wife remains by his side. Those lines were written for my patients; when a mental disease robs someone of their character, that same character that made you fall in love in the first place. Those are when those words carry the weight of gold. And that is why I am going to
wait... wait for the man I would do anything for, despite any physical, emotional or mental changes that could possibly happen!
