where did you come from
I’m like a headless chicken.
Running around all week,
One piece of information,
Stretching me in multiple directions.
This new world so overwhelming,
So out of my depth,
I have no choice but to take everything on board,
Desperately trying to make the puzzle pieces fit.
Confusion a tornado in my mind.
Believing it all a necessary part of the process.
Continually driven by the fear of making the wrong decision,
Surely the more we do the greater the gains?
I’m so highly stressed,
Twisted so tight,
Pieces of me snapping off with every new down pour of information,
Which rings me that little bit more.
But twice weekly at Feldenkrais therapy,
Everything makes sense,
Isaac is content,
It puts everything into perspective,
Brings back the focus.
He doesn’t scream,
He isn’t forced to a stretch in agony,
Instead we show him he has a right arm.
Typically tucked tightly to his side,
We encourage him to roll,
Without head thrown extension,
Just simple curled flexion,
Soft eased motion bringing him to his right side.
And he spends time there,
Feels his body against the floor.
And then he looks at his right hand for the very first time.
His eyes opening wide in disbelief,
As if to say where did you come from?
And the joy and satisfaction he is rewarded,
By getting hand to mouth like a prize.
Both eyes and tongue sending sensory feedback,
Connecting more of himself to himself.
I can’t help but just smile at his sense of achievement.
The shine in his eyes,
Glistening from delight not fear,
A real achievement in itself.
And I pull out my notebook,
Jotting down its true importance,
In broadening his body image to contain a right arm.
From one hand to two,
I begin to question how the Cerebral Palsy systems were operating,
And seemingly getting it so wrong.