In Stroke's Shadow by Kyle Ruffin

Author:Kyle Ruffin
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-64952-750-9
Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc
Published: 2021-12-07T21:53:47+00:00

Chapter 17

Mommy’s speech had improved. It was much better, yet far from perfect. She could dial me using her phone’s voice command. She was able to travel up and down steps safely after Ralph installed railings where there were none. The therapists helped her adjust over the first couple of weeks of being back home. We then transitioned to another stage of therapy: outpatient.

I visited her every day at first. I taxied her back and forth to therapy three days a week and to doctor’s appointments, and on occasion, we went out socially. I shopped for all her food and prepped meals. She only needed to rely on the microwave, which we discovered was broken the day she moved back home. I still carried the illusion that she’d eventually get back to one hundred percent. But even though she was living somewhat independently, I still carried the burden of driving her progress if I wanted it to continue. My plan was to do so by reintroducing her to the things she once enjoyed.

Mommy loved to shop before the stroke, so on day one, I figured a trip to Best Buy would get us one step closer to her old life. I could have handled this trip easier and quicker by myself, but I wanted her to experience the joy of being out in the world again. I hoisted her and her wheelchair into my car, and we scooted over to the store, where we got some practice navigating a public space. We bought a new microwave that, with its box, barely fit into my back seat.

Mommy also loved to drive and was eager to get back behind the wheel of her Mercedes, so I took her to our favorite supermarket. I was determined to get her to maneuver one of those scooter or cart contraptions. She believed she’d be able to, but she struggled mightily, not always getting forward and backward right or able to stop the scooter before crashing into something or someone. She crashed into several people and nearly knocked over at least two end cap displays and the salad bar. I followed behind her like a parent teaching a child how to ride a bike, greeting glares with a sheepish smile, hoping they’d understand and show us patience.

I had seen parents in this very same store trying to acclimate their autistic children to the world. They’d bring them to the supermarket at a not-so-busy time of the day to help them adapt to the social norms we take for granted. The children screamed and threw tantrums while their caregivers gently stroked them with vocal cues designed to calm and console them. They engaged with onlookers in ways that said, “He isn’t just another spoiled brat. My child has special needs, and we need your patience.”

It was like that for Mommy and me. Seeing people in carts or wheelchairs at the supermarket isn’t unusual. Seeing someone who on the outside looks youthful and vibrant drive a cart into people and displays is something of a shock for people who don’t know the whole story.

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