After a Stroke, My Daughter Found Wholeness by Giving to Others

As we ventured down the hall to physical therapy, Kari held a leaf-shaped bowl filled with candy — resistantly. Halloween decorations adorned the walls and some of the staff dressed in costumes.

We decided to reverse trick-or-treat, hand out treats instead of receiving. Truthfully, I hatched the idea; Kari scowled when I handed her the bowl, “No, that’s stupid.” Any other time, a rebuke would have labeled her statement “bad-mannered” but with her vocabulary limited by the stroke, she responded with blunt abruptness.

I understood her hesitancy. Never one to draw attention to herself, my daughter liked to exist in the shadows, therefore; this activity resided way outside her comfort zone. However, I also acknowledge the power of kindness. After 2 months in the hospital, Kari needed to give back and experience the power of giving.

I silently questioned my decision to instigate this adventure, wondering if it was such a clever idea. But when she offered candy to the nurse, that thought vanished. Kari presented the commercially wrapped chocolates with a forced smile knowing rudeness was not an option.

The nurse participated in our holiday celebration as she described her children’s costumes and explained they trick-and-treated with the neighbors since she worked the night shift. She sifted through a few pieces and withdrew a packet of M&Ms.

Candy and smiles provided encouragement

We turned the corner and offered some sweet treats to patients as we passed. Some we knew from our extended stay; others, strangers, instantly joined our hospital family. All smiled, took the candy and expressed thanks either with words or a smile.

In the outpatient physical therapy waiting room, sat an elderly couple on two hardback chairs. I assumed them husband and wife and deduced the man waited for his appointment since he held a cane and an expression of the desire to be somewhere, anyplace else.

Kari offered them candy by saying, “Want some carrots?”

Since stroke patients inhabited the halls, no explanation was necessary because everyone knew her meaning and why the words came out wrong. The wife simply picked through the selection, withdrew a piece of candy not carrots and said, “Thank you.”

The gentleman’s melancholy eyes looked up from the floor and he said, “No.” Just before we turned away, his eyes met Kari’s triggering a smirk and his face softened. Leaning towards the bowl, he cleared his throat, “Well, maybe I will.” His hand released the cane and searched until it found a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. We heard a polite, gruff voice say, “Happy Halloween.”

Kari’s jumbled, inaccurate response communicated a clear message of gratitude at his acceptance of her offering. Every person she encountered became supporters in her fight, and she in theirs. In this environment where individuals struggled with their own disabilities, the simple, edible gifts created a support system that reinforced them for battle.

In the physical therapy room more soldiers joined our army

A young woman with purple hair, walked up a short flight of stairs supported by therapists on either side who clutched the wide cloth belt around her waist providing stability. At the bottom of the steps one hand wrapped around a Snickers without releasing the handrail with the other. Each therapist tucked a bar of chocolate in their shirt pockets.

A stylish elderly lady rode a stationary bike at a slow, steady pace as if she competed in the final stages of a marathon, exerting enough energy to propel her around the world if desire transferred to fuel. Pausing, she accepted a piece and continued her journey towards recovery. Mentally, I noted that each patient quickly returned to their exercises to optimize time in the therapy room.

On the exercise table laid a middle-aged man with one leg in the air, his second leg absent. His therapist and he each took a bar and the therapist returned for a second before we exited the room.

Each person returned to their task a little less stressed and more determined

Patients labored to complete tasks they once performed unconsciously as they learned to adapt to their disabilities. They practiced how to walk, trained their arms to reach, grab, and release, and through repetition reacquired vanished vocabulary.

Amazement dumbfounded me as each person responded positively to treatment. Nobody complained or grumbled. Their determination communicated their hope for a normal life.

Saint Luke’s Rehabilitation Hospital’s staff: nurses, CNAs, doctors, therapists, secretaries, food and cleaning service, shared love through their behavior. In return, patients and visitors united to win their individual battles.

At first I feared pushing Kari in this crazy scheme might backfire. But when we returned to our room after reverse trick-or-treating, exhaustion appeared on Kari’s face, but her eyes held joy and her mouth curved into a smile.

With grace in her heart, she laid on her bed to sleep; ready to continue the healing process — later.

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Follow Kari journey by reading her stories.

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