The last 2 months have been rough. Not for Vera, but for me.
It became increasingly clear that she had lost vision and it would now be her new normal.
I was heartbroken.
Since Day One, I'd mentally prepare myself for all kinds of deterioration - lungs, limbs, but never that she would lose the little sight she had left in one eye. She no longer focuses on faces like she did before. We are quite sure she can't see us now, or we're probably blurry shapes.
I was falling apart. I did not feel like doing anything. I'd burst into tears, sitting in the park. Sorry not for myself, but Sorry that this determined little girl would have to start all over. With less faculties.
I reached a point where I would zone out to cope. I stopped caring about Vera, focusing on Daen instead. The little buzzy was what kept me going. I knew I had to stop myself from spirally downwards further.
Ian, dependable as always, stepped in to love and care for Vera when I zoned out.
Then Vera started to improve in her strength. We are seeing her stroke-like hand respond slightly to our daily physiotherapy. She even started to attempt to do her signature crunches!
But the biggest glimmer of hope, was that she still wanted to pull us in for a hug - this time with just one movable arm.
And she actually seems to be in good spirits, despite all that has happened to her body.
How many of us can do the same? As it turns out, her condition, her "unknowing", is her greatest blessing.
How can I give up when Vera is so determined to go on?
And at this bottom of the U curve, her teachers, therapists, doctors and nurses, and friends are there for us. Coming to visit, especially the super- caring Dr W and Nurse E from Nuh Homecare team. I am so grateful.
Like our friend Kenneth says, she's "reset to zero", something our medically fragile kids are prone to.
I've also had to "reset to zero". Perhaps that's what we all need some time in our lives to take stock, to recharge and reflect.
I'm taking it by the day now.
Vera will get better. And so will I.
