Mariah’s Reemergence

[Post from Clay, Mariah’s brother who is staying with her this week.]

Today was a significant improvement from a very difficult and depressed Monday for Mariah. I arrived at her bedside Monday afternoon and discovered Mariah had refused all her therapies while struggling to deal with some of her lowest moods. She managed to fight back and get up for her last therapy session with J.T. She succeeded in completing the entire session, which allowed me to see some fantastic improvement in her physical condition and abilities over the past two weeks.

I was thrilled to hear Mariah put some vocals into her communication, and to hear her express her feelings without necessarily needing so much prompting or guessing from us. Over the evening and into the morning Mariah had some more rough spells as she continued to undergo excruciating low moods, medicine changes, and restless sleep.

However, Tuesday she managed to participate in all her therapies, and she even topped off the evening by sticking her right forefinger clear through my piece of spice cake and then laughed as I informed her that she owes me a piece of cake.

Through the pains of depression and discouragement, Mariah is keeping a level head, using all forms of communication at her disposal, and expressing her moods to staff and family. I am curious as to many of Mariah’s thoughts during this phase of her recovery.

We spent a lot of time outdoors the last 30 hours and when asked each time “Do you want words or silence?”, she said out loud “silence”. We sat together and experienced the sunshine, the shade, and finally the grass. On our last outdoor journey she convinced me to help her out of the wheelchair so we could actually lay in the grass together. She grasped the grass in her hands and then rolled on to her side and we listened to my friend Grant Haze’s music, sharing my MP3 player headphones for a couple of songs before going back upstairs for K.T.

These days are rich, fascinating, terrifying, and completely out of our control. Sometimes I sit and just feel helpless with Mariah for a few minutes. This usually stills me. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I am awkward, sometimes I feel just fine. I don’t know. It is what it is. I’m just happy to be here. It is kind of a strange and often uncomfortable joy to be able to experience just a little of Mariah’s suffering with her.

Keep praying for her courage, her hope, and her health.

Thank you, Clay