WAKE UP WOO!

Trevor amazes me, both with his recovery and with his attitude. Obviously he gets frustrated several times a day, but look where he's at and what he's gone through. I would be nothing but negative in his shoes. I wouldn't have half his motivation to move on or get better. But somehow he never gives up. When he realizes for the eight-millionth time of the day that his right arm isn't going to move, or when he spills ice cream all over his lap, or when he says the wrong word, he simply takes a deep breath and moves on. Over and over again. Multiple times a day.

I truly believe that although Trevor's stubbornness is a pain in the arse most of the time, it's the reason he recovered from the first injury and is going to recover from this one. He doesn't take no for an answer. The doctor told us he wouldn't be able to walk, but he's walking with a leg brace and a cane. The doctor told us he wouldn't be able to talk, but he's saying more words than your average six-month-old. Do you think it's a coincidence that he has a much easier time saying "no" than "yes?" I don't know.

As for the update, this is all I got...

Trevor's speech is improving a ton. And by that, I mean he's saying a whole bunch of words that generally don't make sense. When you ask him a question, he thinks for a minute, mumbles something that sounds like it could be a word but definitely isn't in the English dictionary, realizes he didn't make sense and then repeats in that order. Although, he has taken me by surprise with random bursts of sense-making sentences, like "I don't really care," "Damn, that's good," or "I'll take either." The brain is a crazy thing!

Trevor's walking gets better each day, with more control and weight-bearing on that right leg. The physical therapist wants to order him a $1,000 ankle brace, but I'm convinced he'll be walking on his own by the time the brace even ships.

The doctor injected Lidocaine in Trevor's right arm in hopes that it gives his arm the same reaction as it did his leg. Good news is the doc didn't mess up and inject it on the wrong side again. Bad news is Trevor got so light-headed and green at the gills that he nearly passed out.

Here's how the two minutes of speech therapy that I sat through went today:

Michelle: Trevor, what would you sew a button on with?
Trevor: School, spoon, knife, uhh..
M: Nee-?
T: Needre [in an Asian accent similar to the stereotypical "herro prease" or "raugh out roud"]

M: What would you use to wipe up a spill?
T: School, spoon...

M: What would you use to start a fire?
T: School, knife, moo.
M: Ma-?
T: Mattress, match...

M: What would you use to cut grass?
T: Charge, spoon...
M: Mo-?
T: Ped, moped, school...
M: Lawn?
T: Mother, mower.

M: What would you use to measure how tall someone is?
T: Melakin.
M: A tape -?
T: Medicine, school.

Tomorrow will be the one-year anniversary of Trevor's first brain injury and the two-month anniversary of his second (and hopefully last). You think this calls for a celebration? If so, I think I'm going to blare the song 'It's my party and I'll cry if I want to' while bawling my eyes out in the corner of room 2613. Party on!