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Touching Lives - By Jennifer Hordijk
He was a large, barrel of a man; a hard working business man who showed his love to his family by ensuring they were well supported. The first time I met Al, I was reminded of my father. How would I want my Dad treated if he had a stroke?
The stroke took away the functioning of Al’s left arm and leg and his ability to speak.. He was confined to a wheelchair. This new situation placed significant stress on his marriage.
Al and I worked together for about 6 weeks. He was back on his feet, walking with a single point cane and managing the few steps necessary to allow him access to his house. He was ready! Everyone on the Rehabilitation team was proud of Al’s achievements and happy to see him go home.
Just over a year later, I was walking the halls of the chronic care facility that is linked with our rehabilitation centre by an enclosed corridor. There at the end of the hall sat a large hunched man, confined to a wheelchair looking lonely and defeated. There was something familiar about him. After some enquiry, I discovered that Al had suffered another stroke. My heart broke for this man and family. I consulted to the treating Physiotherapist, having treated Al in the past, but the road to recovery was much slower and less successful.
It was Christmas Eve and like every year, there was a festive energy electrifying the air. Before leaving for home that day, I made my last rounds of spreading Christmas cheer. Passing through the chronic floor, I noticed Al in the same position, in the same wheelchair and devoid of emotion. Other than a flicker of light to spark his eyes, there was no indication of recognition as I approached him. I bent over him, wishing him Merry Christmas as I pinned a guardian angel to his cardigan.
Almost a year passed until I saw Al again. I had not heard how he was doing, being busy with my own life and treating my other clients. It was lunch break and I was coming out of our main treatment room. A few metres ahead stood one our Physiotherapy Assistants, walking closely beside a large man limping with a quad cane. The man had aged but his features were familiar. This time when he glanced my way, his face lit up. He slowly limped toward me and I greeted him warmly. He set his four-pronged cane on the ground and lifted his right hand as we shook hands. It took a few attempts, but with some agitation and much difficulty, he spoke the word he longed to share. "Angel." Despite his lopsided grin, his eyes filled with tears.
Al knew who I was. He remembered our times together and in the only way he was able, he expressed his appreciation. His "thank-you" caused me reason to reflect and remember the reason I do what I do. In Al, my life touched another life, both as a physiotherapist and as a person, and through this, the world is a better place.
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