We are approaching the four-year anniversary of clinical speech therapy. I say we because I’ve been the one driving, observing, and following-through with Isabelle’s at-home practice. And while I used to think the end was in sight for speech therapy, we’ve recently learned it isn’t as close as we originally anticipated.
Tuesday afternoons have been the day we typically devote to OT, PT, and speech for Isabelle. This afternoon, when I picked her up early from school, she seemed more indignant about leaving than usual. And quite frankly, I couldn’t blame her. I’m exhausted from all of this therapy too. I wish I could just be fun-mommy rather than mommy-speech, mommy-ot, and mommy-pt. But that’s not in the cards for us… at least not yet.
This afternoon, I had physical therapy on my shoulder (Yes, my shoulder… again!) while Isabelle had speech. I was closing out my session with pendulum exercises in the main gym when Isabelle and her speech therapist came looking for me.
“How’d she do today?” I asked her speech therapist.
“Well, she was a little sassy at first, but she pulled herself together and did great.”
I looked at Isabelle and said, “Remember, if you want to earn a week off, you have to do your work and listen to your therapists.”
“I know,” she said begrudgingly.
After I got the debrief of the session, I hustled Isabelle to the bathroom. Then we returned to the gym where my physical therapist wrapped my shoulder with an ice pack while I listened to Isabelle read aloud from her just-right books. Within a minute of her finishing, her physical therapist found us. It was time for her second of three appointments today.
“She’s not in the n-i-c-e-s-t mood today,” I warned her physical therapist.
Her physical therapist nodded knowingly. I’m sorry, I mouthed.
I don’t want to be here any more than Isabelle wants to be here. Unfortunately, this is the hand we were dealt.
I was about to go into full pity-party mode when I glanced around the gym. There were people who could barely walk who were trying to regain their ability to put one foot in front of the other again. There was a man being assisted by two women to stand up from a wheelchair. I took a deep breath and remembered to have some perspective. We won’t be here every Tuesday for the rest of our lives. Eventually, this will pass.