Lately, the blog has veered in a lot of directions, and hasn't been spending a lot of time discussing the particulars of Robb's condition.
Things have settled into a kind of routine, here. And I don't exactly come home from work and ask Robb, "So how are you today? Still paralyzed?"
That conversation would get old, fast.
Robb is, not surprisingly, working hard at his therapies. He never, ever skips a day of either working in the pool or cycling. He pushes himself to his limits, every single day.
Which is, of course, totally draining. So, his days consist of a lot of exercise, and a lot of laying down. Some of this is because he's exhausted, and some is because he is experiencing pain or spasticity. Usually, by the time I get home, Robb is "done" for the day. So our evenings are rather low-key. I've given myself permission to stay late at work, and garden, because I've realized that Robb doesn't really need to watch over him as he lays on the bed.
The photo is from the porch at the farmhouse where I lived for seven summers, when I ran the paint shop for the Glimmerglass Opera. The kitty is one of Linguine's relatives, and I can see from the cropped ear, that it is one of the dozens of cats that I -- with the farmers' permission -- had neutered or spayed. Over the course of two summers, twenty cats were tested for feline diseases, immunized, "fixed" and released back onto the farm. Their left ears were trimmed, so we cold tell who had been done, and who hadn't.