Yesterday I took Thomas in to the physical therapist who has been doing his serial casting. I was so sure he wouldn't need another set. In fact I was hoping like heck he wouldn't. I am so tired of the casts. They make every little thing just a little harder, and in our world we don't need things a little harder. Why can't something out there make our life just a little easier? Anyway, I'm getting off track. So she did decide to put on a new set of casts. She said even though both feet are at +2, she wants to try doing it one or two more weeks. I don't understand why. His new braces are in, I'm dedicated to making him wear them as long as I can each day. I'm ready to move on to the braces and practicing with his walker. Why is she holding us back?
I'm sure she is thinking in terms of what is in the best interest of Thomas. I respect that. But it's been nine weeks now. Nine long weeks of not being able to put him in the bathtub, having to buy new clothes that will fit over the casts, blisters, legs rubbed raw, and the added weight for me to carry around. Also, I don't know if any of you have ever tried to change a diaper on a child who has two very heavy casts on his legs, it is not easy.
Yeah, I know, poor me right? What really matters is that Thomas couldn't care less about the casts. He acts as if they aren't even there. I wish I could have his attitude. And more than just in this instance. If I had his disposition and outlook on life I would be a much happier person. This child is usually smiling, laughing, and finding joy in the most basic and strangest places. He doesn't sweat the small stuff. I really need to take a page from his book.