It's been over a month since I posted. My inbox is overflowing, and I can scarcely find the time to read even one post each day. Ironic, since I thought summer would bring so much free time I would be posting  each day, and catching up on all my favorite posters. (My apologies to all who have sent me PMs - I am working my way to your posts, I promise!)

I am changing. I feel it in my bones as I try to write. I struggle - I peck out a sentence and delete it. What I have to say seems less and less important than what my hands can do. About a month ago I started a new job as a nurse's aide in a facility that cares for children with severe physical and mental disabilities and complex medical needs. It has been a transformative experience to say the least. I began my training and am continuing to work in a unit with children ranging in age from 2 - 18. The children I work with are either unable to move or can't control their movements and developmentally are at approximately the level of a 6 month old. Several have tracheotomies, and all are fed through a PEG tube (formula is fed directly into their stomachs). My job is to provide direct care - bathing, changing, feeding. It is physically exhausting, but I feel myself growing stronger each day.

It is humbling, working with these children. They are teaching me to read body language and intuit unspoken needs, and making me realize how much in my life I have to be grateful for. As some of you know, my son had a stroke before he was born. We didn't realize it until he was about six months old and was not using his left arm normally. I thought that the stiffness in his arm was the result of his position in the womb, and that it would naturally work itself out. The MRI he had several months later showed that it would never work itself out completely, and that the right side of my son's brain showed a walnut - sized area of damage to the cerebral cortex. He is lucky, however, that his left arm and leg are the only affected parts of his body. He functions now like any "normal" twelve year old (and what is normal - really) and although he lacks any motor skills in his left hand, you might not even notice anything different about him at first glance. He is a delightful young man with a gentle and creative spirit who loves to draw,  write, and listen to the Beatles.

I think about him as I work with my patients. I realize that if his stroke had been larger and affected a greater part of his brain, he could be one of them. I hold him in my heart as I joke with my patients, stroke their heads and try to make them comfortable. I think about the life I could have led, the life I am leading, and I wonder at the mystery of it all.