Yesterday, Jimmy and I had therapy after a rough morning. We didn't have therapy because of the rough morning it just happened to work out that way.
Jimmy was grumpy because he woke up tired. Not rested. Low energy. He was mad because he knew he'd feel like shit all day.
I was grumpy because I knew that meant another day inside, sleeping it off.
It had been awhile since we've had a date -- lunch or dinner. I'll even settle for an afternoon in the courtyard. I can usually bribe him with warm weather and sunshine, but WHAT THE HELL, SPRING? YOU'RE TARDY AS CRAP!
These cold temperatures aren't doing his neck-tensing situation any favors. He does much better these days in a warmer climate.
I imagined, in therapy, that we were having the same conversations in separate rooms with separate therapists: me talking about ways to get us out more, when to push, when to lay off. Him, the same. Maybe he he'll just have to do things even if he doesn't feel like it.
I think it worked. They must have had a good session yesterday because Jimmy didn't refuse brunch this morning (huge deal).
We had to get up early for a urology procedure at The Shepherd Center. That kid was sleepy. Dark circles under eyes. Not very hungry. Little to no words being spoken unless they were laced with grumpiness.
But me too. There wasn't enough coffee within my reach this morning. One point, I looked down and there was a pair of (clean) Jimmy's underpants and a banana in my purse. Just that kind of crazy morning.
We went to Another Broken Egg Cafe, a place I discovered while gallivanting near our apartment early on. It was close and you get speedy service with a smile (Good sell for Jimmy). Every time I go I have to get the blackberry grits.
Jimmy was beyond exhausted, I knew. I almost gave in and went home but I didn't. He enjoyed his bacon and sausage omelet and I enjoyed my husband's company, and obvs the grits.
While there, we talked with a woman who was telling us her husband was at The Shepherd Center after a fall. He used to be a professional ball player and then coached some sort of ball in West Virginia.
Every time I run into a SCI wife, I hate that I don't have a card. Just so they could email me with questions. That was a good resource for me when we were SCI beginners.
She loved our van and how cute it was. Although they are older, (her husband is 75) she said she didn't want "a big old honkin' high-top van" but something a little smaller, stylish and modern. Of course that's why we got our little VW. If we had to do this at least we could be in a fun little van.
It seemed to help her to see that we had, "had it together."
Jimmy is sleeping off his early morning exhaustion and I'll wait to see if he will feel rested enough to go to Peer Support tonight.
Underwear, banana and brunch. That's our day, so far...