It has been two weeks since Evan's final surgery and he hasn't had any seizures (knocking furiously on wood) and is doing really well overall. He still has a decent amount of weakness on the left side but he's getting stronger every day. He has a lot of trouble with stairs and still can't stand up unassisted if he sits on the floor, but his train table has offered him a ton of PT opportunities he isn't even aware of. He stands at the train table, walks around it, reaches across, bends over when he drops trains, etc. Evan doesn't know it, but his passion is going to heal him -- body and spirit.
If anyone asked me to define myself in one word, I would choose "optimist". This is my gift and my curse. My gift because I can almost always see the up side of any situation and can turn any insult into a compliment. My curse because I don't like to admit when things are really rough. I never want to come across as a whiny complainer and it isn't productive anyway. I will say though, the three weeks we spent at NYU Hospital were the hardest weeks of my life. Every day was hard, each for a different reason. We were challenged as a family in ways we could have never expected and are so blessed to be surrounded by so many people who have offered support in many ways. I've said it before, but want to say again, thank you.