Success in Life Requires Learning to Take One Step at a Time

When my daughter was 18 months old, I drafted a short poem while watching her experiment with walking.

Fascinated by her unstable, unplanned movements, she pushed the limits of what she could accomplish and explored. Realizing I held my breath anticipating a misstep, she giggled while playing a game for which there existed no winner or loser. Each time she fell, she righted herself, smiled and extended her wobbly legs forth for more adventure.

Momentum

I extend my arms to you

Your probing size four foot

Falters . . . stumbles

Another scurries behind

You halt

Your exploring limbs

Totter . . . hesitate

Then hasten along

Your adventuring legs

Function independent,

Nevertheless,

Necessary to the other

Triumph

Thirty-two years later, I found myself watching Kari, learning to walk again. And again, hands extended, and breath held, I watched. The process of re-learning basic skills brought pain because it should not be happening. A stroke had no right to invade our lives; it wasn’t deserved, ask for, or justified; it couldn’t be explained.

As children do, Kari learned to walk, run, read, speak, and perform all the functions necessary to a child. She would do so again. However, nothing happened overnight. Everything involved repetition and practice.

Everyone must learn to walk before we can run

So, the work began with baby steps. No two patients are the same, but as I chronicled Kari’s progression during her first month, I witnessed the power of her internal strength.

Her first steps towards recovery provided no visual physical movement because her body required rest to begin healing. She had little use of her right side and limited ability to talk.

On the third day, she rose and sat on the side of her bed with the help of two therapists. When asked, she pronounced her name and both daughters’ names.

Day four brought a lopsided smile and through hand gestures, she began to communicate. Sometimes we deciphered the meaning but to be honest, often we simply nodded and smiled. I imagine this caused increased frustration because she recognized her inability to make her meaning clear. Just as when she was an infant, the process moved slowly, but she never stopped trying.

Success is achieved when we never stop trying

Transported in a bed, Kari moved out of ICU on day five, but we still counted it as a “step” forward. During physical therapy, therapists came to her room and supported her as she sat up in bed allowing her daddy to wrap his arms around her in a bear hug — a simple reminder of the support surrounding her. We all vicariously experienced the power of physical contact through their embrace.

On the sixth day, therapy increased since the restraints of ICU lifted. Kari ate soft, solid food which required her to use her left hand to hold a spoon. She also sat on the side of the bed and combed her hair also with her left hand. Much of physical therapy required a therapist to move the paralyzed side of her body based on the theory that repeated motions retrained the brain to connect with the muscles.

Total exhaustion appeared on the seventh day following numerous milestones. Kari transitioned from the bed to a chair, spoke a couple of new words, and showered. Actions once labeled simple, daily routines became equivalent to a full day of hard labor.

Power develops when we celebrate each small step

Kari spoke the word “phone” on the eighth day and then grabbed it from the bedside table. I feared frustration and a potential meltdown but quickly realized her thought processes remained intact as she used redial to call her husband, Dan.

After an abbreviated conversation about their girls, she blew him a kiss. Though an outsider wouldn’t have understood, they were in sync. Before hanging up, Kari said, “Love you.” It sounded a bit like a scene from Scooby-Doo but the message was clear.

Words become unnecessary when we talk Heart to Heart. This video explain Kari's condition, aphasia.

On day nine using her left hand, Kari wrote her name.

Another baby step

By the end of the second week, we experienced many first. She rode in a wheelchair, counted to twenty, propelled herself 30 feet while holding unto a bar attached to the wall by stepping forward with her left foot, and sliding her right foot. When Kari moved into a rehab facility where therapy continued at a minimum of three hours a day, her goal of walking became a possibility.

During the third week, a routine developed: eat, therapy, sleep, repeat. Physical activities required extreme energy resulting in fatigue. Slowly, progress materialized. However mental activities produced frustration teaching us that fine motor skills necessitate patience and resilience. The routines continued, gained some complexity, and Kari’s endurance increased.

We again witnessed the strength of baby steps

In the middle of the sixth week, she moved home. At discharge, Kari walked slowly with a cane. She could raise her right arm to her chest, and though talking proved difficult, daily progress provided hope.

Some might view a stroke as an overwhelming event causing devastation beyond repair. Some might collapse and cry; at one point I did. But sooner or later everyone must pick themselves up and move on. There is no need to lie or camouflage the reality because anyone associated with a stroke victim knows the results are devastating.

Our bodies are our permanent homes. They can be rebuilt with effort and a positive attitude. Change occurs through baby steps — one and then another. At 18 months, Kari’s determination ended in triumph; at 33 years, determination provided another chance to embrace life with her family — one step at a time.

Odd as it may seem, the lyrics of a song Put One Foot in Front of the Other from Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town always begin playing in my head when struggling with a dilemma. I guess time watching cartoons as a kid had some benefit.

Put one foot in front of the other

And soon you’ll be walking cross the floor

Put one foot in front of the other

And soon you’ll be walking out the door

You never will get where you’re going

If you never get up on your feet

Come on, there’s a good tail wind blowing

A fast walking man is hard to beat

If you want to change your direction

If your time of life is at hand

Well don’t be the rule be the exception

A good way to start is to stand

If I want to change the reflection

I see in the mirror each morn

You mean that it’s just my election

To vote for a chance to be reborn

Whatever struggle you are facing, start with one step to get you moving slowly.

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Read stories about Kari's Journey.

Asking for Help is Difficult but It is Harder to Survive Alone

Make it Happen With a Can-Do Attitude

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

When It Feels Like You May Drown, Just Keep Swimming

A Survival Strategy for Trauma: Laugh