I said once that I did therapy all the time. Some of that is Don's fault, although he complained about it as well as I did. He wondered why I no longer just did things for fun. The thing that he didn't understand was that doing therapy was fun.
Don was the eternal therapist. He got interested in everything I had to do, including therapy. He liked them all, but was particularly interested in Speech. In fact, he was interested enough to want to write a computer program for Speech software. He didn't have time to finish it, so he had three students write it instead.
The reason Don wasn't free was because he was always working with me when I wasn't working by myself; for example, working my hands. He spent his free time, meaning his driving time between home and the town I was in, thinking up new things for me to do, and often it was too early for me to do them because I wasn't yet strong enough, so he saved them for later. But he no longer felt like his life was an epic struggle between good and evil if he was thinking up things for me to do and staying in control. I understood completely. Doing therapy was a way to stay in control.
Because of him, or rather, because of his love of computers, I would get to sit in the gym's rocking chair while he worked on the patient's personal computer located in a corner room off the gym. I didn't think of this as doing extra therapy, but as a treat. I would usually have a book with me, and I would either read or look out the windows at the things I was typically too busy to see while in therapy. Yet I would rock while he worked on the computer. I was doing both OT and PT, even if I didn't know it. The rocking chair, made from cane, was too big for me, and I couldn't rock very well at the time, but the important thing wasn't that I didn't fit, but that I rocked, no matter how poorly, and even if I did it unconsciously. At first I needed a pillow at my back just to get into the thing! Later, I rocked with great ease, but it took lots of practice. It was also good for me to do, and I knew that, since we rocked once in OT. I rocked because I rarely got to do it in therapy and because I missed it. (We have several rocking chairs at home.) Pretty soon, I was really good at it, which sparked Don into coming up with more things for me to do.
That in turn led to 'practicing.' We practiced everything, from the minute I got up to the time I went to bed. The first thing we did was flash cards of words for Speech. I remember how surprised my therapist was the first time I said, “Eyebrow,” which was at Don's insistence. She about fell off her chair. Don came up with more words for me to say than we had cards to write the new words on. That in turn led to conversations. Then came the singing. I couldn't sing at first, but the more I practiced, the larger my range grew. Soon I could sing an octave, but I couldn't get my old voice back no matter how much I rehearsed.
On the weekends, we practiced standing up from the mat. If we had nowhere to go and I didn't want Don to spend the day on the computer, I asked him to practice with me. Since we couldn't use the equipment, our choices were limited to what we could do on the mat. It started with standing. Don was pretty sure he knew how to break down the art of standing up. It was much harder when I stood up slowly than when I finally was allowed to stand up fast, like normal. That led to practicing to roll over, the first step to getting out of bed. He had already hurt his back twice while lifting me during transfers, and didn't want to lift me at all to avoid hurting it again, so the more ease with which I could roll over on my own, the better off I would be if I needed to get out of bed... or off the floor... or off the couch... I never realized before how often I rolled over in daily life.
Standing up and rolling over are not as easy as they look. When you think about it, a lot of muscles are used for each. However, I was good at using large muscle groups together, and standing was easier each time I did it. I was not as successful at rolling over. I tried, gritting my teeth, but always got stuck on my shoulder. If I couldn't do this, how was I ever going to take care of myself? I couldn't even go to the bathroom at night by myself. Yet it didn't matter who asked me to, I could not roll over to save my life. And if I was in bed, forget it. I once got stuck on the bed's side support, and I was scared that I might repeat the disaster if I tried to roll over again. Being scared stopped me from doing it. But I couldn't help myself for being scared;, fear is an irrational thing.
I finally managed to roll over by myself, but it wasn't easy. I had to use far more muscles than I thought I would, and I was dizzy from the effort it took. Still, I'd done it, even if I couldn't repeat it for anything. Now, rolling over is easy, and I do it all the time, but at the Center, I needed to rest afterwards. Then, resting was all part of a day's work, and even that took lots of practice!