What a Difference a Year Makes
Tonight last year (on the Jewish calendar), I sat at the hospital with my mom. I had planned to be at temple, celebrating the Jewish new year, but a dark room combined with my dad’s unsteady feet had other plans. A year ago, I sat with my mom, still grieving the loss of my grandmother, and faced with a new challenge: a dad with a broken hip and Parkinson’s disease. I really, honestly, wasn’t sure it was going to get much better. I thought my dad would be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.
Tonight, after finishing our Rosh Hashonah meal, I realized how lucky I am and how different things are. My dad, as you know, had deep brain stimulation surgery. He has worked incredibly hard at rehab. He brings his walker and canes with him everywhere he goes. His wheelchair is always in the car-just in case. Tonight, my dad picked up his walker and moved it out of his way. He didn’t use it to walk, he walked with it to move it out of his way. Sure, it was a mere ten feet, but my dad, a year after we thought he was confined to a wheelchair for life, joked about it. “I guess I don’t need my walker if I can carry it around” he joked.
This year has been quite the year. Deep down I hoped that my dad would walk again. Realistically, I hoped that he would smile. How lucky and blessed am I to get both.
