- 48 -
Rudimentary, bare-bones, everyday living is a no-brainer for the average person, even taken for granted. Not so for Matt. With few exceptions, everything was a significant undertaking. Mental fatigue and the concentration required to hold a conversation—listening, processing, and responding—taxed him as much as the many physical demands. If his threshold was exceeded, his eyes glazed over. Acclimating to the increased stimulation and activity of life at home was enough to manage the first week. Therefore, Matt's outpatient therapy was postponed a week, allowing him time to adjust to being at home.
Then, life began in earnest. His calendar quickly filled with twice-a-week, back-to-back physical therapy (PT), occupational therapy (OT), and speech therapy appointments in the outpatient clinic where I worked. Stepping into the therapy gym was sobering. It was an ah-ha moment, shining a harsh floodlight on Matt’s extreme level of disability as he sat meekly in his wheelchair, dependent on my legs to propel him forward. In our isolated home environment, my measuring rod compared Matt's current state to the first day in the ICU—he was undeniably better. However, walking into my workplace and seeing the other patients, getting around on their own steam, exercising, practicing with a cane, and easily interacting with therapists and others, offered a less favorable perspective. Matt easily won the low man on the totem pole.
The unexpected intimacy of working with my coworkers significantly eased the transition to outpatient therapy. Matt received extra special attention flavored with compassion for our entire family. They interacted with Matt professionally and personally. Each therapist paired their unique knowledge, skill set, and experience to identify the strategy that would best motivate and engage Matt, draw him out of his cocoon, and facilitate his recovery. It was nice to have their years of expertise at our disposal. Mike and I were always welcome to observe, assist, and offer suggestions. The ability to keep my fidgety hands and mind engaged in the process gave me purpose and expanded my view of Matt’s potential and future.
Some joked with him or gave him a hard time, but always in a good-natured way. Every visit, his physical therapist would greet Matt by name and wait patiently for him to do the same, but to no avail. He couldn’t remember Eric’s name. Eric would teasingly chide him, “Come on, Man, what’s my name? It’s Eric, dude. Next week, don’t let me down.” This vignette was ongoing for the next four to five months. Eric utilized an energetic, strong verbal hand to cut through Matt’s quiet veneer, demanding attention and prompting a reaction. His therapy approach sought to spark bold movements, power, and 100% participation. These were deemed essential building blocks of purposeful, functional performance, whether walking, getting out of bed, or getting out of a chair. If Matt’s effort was lackluster, Eric called him out and made him do it again: to step longer, power up the stairs, jump higher, push harder, to give it his best—no free pass. Matt loved the bantering and challenging tone, despite his inability to retaliate in kind. They enjoyed their time together, and Eric succeeded in igniting a reaction.
Unlike the large and busy physical therapy space, the speech therapy room was small and clutter-free, with no external distractions. Jessica sat close, intimately, shoulder to shoulder, and the warmth of her presence was a soothing balm. Quietly, she explained the instructions and smiled encouragingly. Then, every so patiently, she waited for Matt to search the labyrinth of his war-torn mind, a landscape where words were scattered like debris from a bomb explosion. His eyes scanned, and his finger wavered as he hesitated to choose a word or picture. Where oh where has my little dog gone? . . . . Oh, where can I find the word for that picture, or words to explain it? What was the question again? Leaning forward to catch his hushed, fragmented words, she listened, guided, and kindly offered words of encouragement and correction. Jessica established a foundation of trust and a safe place to rebuild lost speech and language skills, which are vital for effective communication.
The occupational therapist faced a unique situation: not only a friend and coworker but someone well acquainted with our family through our daughters’ soccer team. Jacqui knew Matt. In therapy, she nurtured Matt by infusing sessions with her familiarity and motherly instincts. As with a young child, she demonstrated, gently guided, and reinforced the correct technique and praised his effort. Sitting off to one side in the bustling therapy gym, they amicably worked, his wheelchair tucked under the table. Matt performed hand exercises while Jacqui offered an easy conversation, inviting him to volunteer remarks without expectations—the nuances of speech were for Jessica. In those incremental moments, she was helping Matt to reclaim not just his physical abilities but a part of his former self, offering a glimmer of better days.
In addition to traditional therapies, we were fortunate to have a local optometrist, Howard Kushner, DO, who specializes in Vision Therapy, to work with Matt. Matt’s eyes had difficulty converging and scanning his environment, and his peripheral vision was restricted on the right side. Additionally, his brain had difficulty processing and responding to visual stimuli. The vision tests had to be modified because Matt didn’t recognize letters on the eye chart and struggled to follow instructions, respond to questions, and coordinate his arms to point at a requested item. Dr. Kushner skillfully modified tasks and verbal cues to obtain baseline test results successfully and create a meaningful treatment program. Weekly sessions and a home program focused on exercises to strengthen eye muscles and the necessary coordination to complete each task effectively.
On the home front, Mike and I were uniquely positioned to help implement their therapy strategies and suggestions. Not only as physical therapists, but our extensive background in interactions with occupational and speech therapists, as well as rehabilitation nurses, over 40 years of practice has benefited us. We used our years of experience to help Matt care for himself and participate in daily activities as soon as he was able and had the necessary strength and endurance.
Matt’s therapy programs and at-home were never stagnant or repetitive. Interventions were regularly modified. Changing exercises, repetitions, resistance, or adding a new twist facilitated reaching the next level of performance, even for healthy athletes. In the ensuing months, PT included neuromuscular reeducation, strength and power training, core stabilization, balance and gait training (for example, walking on flat surfaces, uneven surfaces, and stairs), and functional movement patterns. After running a battery of tests, the speech therapist identified and targeted the most essential communication skills to address first. She provided a home program to help strengthen and stretch his neck and throat muscles. These would help him to speak louder and swallow without choking. They also worked on identifying objects, numbers, and colors. The OT addressed arm and hand strength, coordination, and dexterity, as well as cognitive tasks, problem-solving, and functional retraining, such as cooking, folding laundry, or walking while carrying an object. In vision therapy, Dr. Kushner addressed visual skills ranging from scanning and recognizing letters and numbers to alternating between seeing near and distant objects and, very importantly, learning to follow instructions readily.
Every service was invaluable in knitting together a comprehensive effort of Herculean proportions to restore Matt’s life. The combined staff effort would serve as a living tribute to their dedication and, ultimately, to Matt’s resilience.
© 2025, Sarah Watkins