I am posting the journal entries from my sister’s CaringBridge site (http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/tracyslatoncrosson) in order to retain that documentation in our 2014 blog book. Check out the start of the series on my blog with the “My Sister” post.
Little Things Mean a Lot
By Ken Crosson — Feb 26, 2014 5:24pm
In The Princess Bride, a limp Westley, recently reanimated by a cure from Miracle Max, incredulously asks his companions, who eagerly celebrate his slightest movement as they contemplate the overwhelming odds against them in their quest to storm the castle, if under the circumstances a small head-jiggle is supposed to make him happy.
I'm here to answer Westley: Yes, sometimes a small head-jiggle means everything in the world.
Around six this morning, Tracy was stirring. I went to her side with her dear friend Kim, and we talked to her and stroked her arms. I asked her if she could hear us. She nodded. I couldn't believe what I had seen, so I asked her to do it again. She did it again. I asked her to squeeze my hand, and she did, faintly.
Then, the early mobility team came to work with her this afternoon, and apparently got a lot out of her with their techniques. I wasn't there for it (dad duty called), but I hear she moved her arms and her legs both on command and in response to postural changes, and raised her head several times to look at the therapists. I'm really looking forward to their visit tomorrow - I will be here for it for sure.
Later, I understand that Tracy's dad was telling her a story, and she smiled at him. She also squeezed her sister's hand, making Tricia squeal in surprise, which scared the nurse and made her jump - all of which evoked another smile from Tracy. I can't wait to see all of this myself.
So, Westley, yes, when you are riding a miracle and facing long odds, sometimes a head-jiggle is the first, quiet answer to ten thousand prayers.
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