Patience

They say patience is a virtue. I guess it’s a virtue I need to develop more because I have so little of it. My life is spent trying to be as efficient as possible so I can get more done in a day. It’s a matter of “hurry up and do more” and then more and more — as fast as you can. I have very little time to stop and wait for things to happen. I make things happen. I am impatient.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons why it’s so frustrating to watch the stroke recovery process with my Dad. Recovery is not fast. It’s not a simple fix, not something that will be over in a day, a week, or a month. It is long-term and painfully slow. It requires lots of patience.

I would do anything to change our current situation. Oh, how I wish things were different, but it can’t be reversed. That’s something I have to accept now — regardless of how difficult it is. The only thing I can do is look to the future and pray for a full recovery.

Each day I go to the hospital hoping for a small sign, some tiny indication of progress. Some days I get it; on other days, I don’t. I try not to be discouraged. Everything I read about recovery tells me that it takes time. The trusted team of therapists, doctors, and experts reinforce that fact. I’m not looking for a miracle (although one would be nice), but I wish the process was faster. I wish desperately that they could tell us when (and if) things will start working again. They can’t.

The brain must re-learn how to process speech. It has to figure out a new way to control now useless limbs that were once controlled by the area damaged by the stroke. It wasn’t a fast process the first time he learned language and other skills, so it makes sense that it would take a good amount of time now. It doesn’t mean I have to like it, though. I’m impatient. I want more.

Watching someone you love dearly go through a stroke is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Few things in life are worse. You can’t imagine the pain and the helplessness you feel as a caregiver. It’s frustrating. It’s emotional. And, once again, it requires an enormous amount of patience.

Maybe it’s one of the valuable lessons I’ll learn as I go through this process. When my Dad recovers, maybe he’ll open his eyes to find a more patient, more compassionate daughter at his side. It won’t be easy, but I’ll fight to have patience while he fights to regain his life. I know he can do it and so will I.