no finish line
With a month before Preschool starts,
I try not to become the flustered version of myself,
Where all I can see is what’s not happening,
Instead of being optimistic about what is.
This latest round of Botox has seen a profound lag,
Of the legs and hips,
Exacerbating the sunken knees so prominent with Cerebral Palsy.
The slumping loses him height,
And therefore he throws even more back extension,
Pigeoning his chest forward,
As if to compensate,
An attempt to get taller.
We need to get him extending through his legs,
Curling through his upper body,
Freeing his body from the tension.
An ongoing battle which seems to play on repeat,
As we cycle through the pre injection,
Never finding the complete picture,
Never getting the balance perfect.
Still missing so many elements.
And the timing is never right.
And so panic settles in,
Hard and fast.
How can we get there,
In order for him to participate with his peers,
And enjoy a preschool experience?
Can we get there at all?
Can we fit in enough roll-to-sit sequences,
To instill flexion in his body this time?
Can we do enough side-sitting,
So he can sit on the floor at story-time with his mates?
Can he curl to grab his feet readily,
To have that contact,
With his soles,
To make them present in his body image?
Can he activate his quads,
By pushing from bent knee,
With flat foot into the palm of our hands,
Into a straightened leg,
With the vital pull-back of his knee in reverse,
In order to truly find the ability to contract them when required,
Can he sit up-right,
Coming forward from the pelvis,
With his arms out for support,
Feet resting flat on the floor,
To be at a table engaged with the other kids,
While we are not there to guide him?
Will he learn to see his arms are available to him,
In sitting as a prop,
To rest and stabilise,
Or will it continue to remain foreign?
So many questions.
In one single hour of Feldenkrais,
Bloating with wisdom,
Yet daunting in its honesty.
The sheer magnitude,
Always grappling me in a headlock,
Making it hard to breathe.
There just doesn’t seem to be enough time,
And so I’m faced with sending him out into the world,
To be slower,
Or left out,
Of what he cannot do.
My heart breaks a little more,
With each day we draw nearer.
But what exactly are we approaching?
And suddenly I have a rare moment of clarity.
Like a lesson,
I seem unable to learn,
There is no finish line.
This is life.
If it’s not Preschool,
It’ll be the play-date at a park,
Or a day by the beach –
Where nothing is quite normal,
And certainly never easy.
It is now crystal clear,
Have the most to learn.
The most to accept.
As it seems I still cannot unload the demon of expectation.