We toured the rest of the White House, another experience that showed the dichotomy of presidential life. We walked among the artifacts of the birth of our nation in the building’s original architecture, colonial pieces of furniture, and the famous painting Washington Crossing the Delaware. Each room told a story of significance to where we are today. We saw the Brady Briefing Room, which serves as a backdrop to many presidential addresses; the Oval Office, where the preceding president announced the War on Terror; and the Situation Room, where President Obama’s security team watched the successful elimination of Osama bin Laden just one year before Josh’s injury. As soon as we felt like we were walking through a monument, we were interrupted by security: “Folks, we are going to have to ask you to walk this way. Sasha and Malia want to play in the Rose Garden.” I appreciated another reminder that moments are the monuments and presidents are people.
At almost four months after his injury, Josh and I had developed a sort of routine. With surgeries down to every other week, our daily routine was wake up on the fourth floor, eat breakfast, shower, go to at least two doctor’s appointments, PT, wound care, lunch, rest in our room, occupational therapy, and sometimes PT again. Josh experienced weekly setbacks—some minor, some major. One day he was really struggling in PT and tapped out before he had completed his workout. I was afraid he was getting sick again; instead he needed a blood transfusion! Another day, he would have a really sore spot on his arm, and it would be a piece of shrapnel working its way out. We would then wheel over to the wound care station, dig it out with some tweezers, and then roll back with nothing more than a Band-Aid. After overcoming hallucinations, infections, and phantom pain, these issues were usually treated at his bedside, and we kept going. As Josh’s caregiver, I had gotten used to these hurdles, and my mind was always thinking about what we needed to do next. If I saw blood, I assessed it, called up the appropriate nurse, and we got it fixed as soon as possible. If Josh felt sick, I took his vitals myself, updated a nurse, and asked for a certain medication by name. We worked hard for our routine every day by finding ways around the issues.
I felt like keeping the routine was my personal responsibility. Josh was not going to fall back because I wasn’t getting him to appointments or making sure he attended PT every day. As long as Josh was in good health and we weren’t missing appointments, we got invited to more events outside of the hospital, even though Josh couldn’t walk yet. We went to dinners at the US Capitol building and professional sporting events on a regular basis. It may sound weird, but I felt a great sense of accomplishment by maintaining a daily expectation. As his caregiver, I felt like Josh’s opportunities were made possible because of the small things I was doing. I was always looking ahead for chances to show everyone something else that Josh had conquered.
Finally, in August, Josh’s doctors gave him the nod to get fitted for prosthetic legs. I was so thankful to hear that. It will be so much easier to get places when we don’t have to bring a wheelchair. Josh has worked so hard, and he deserves this level of independence. That wheelchair is just holding him back. He is so ready for this. I did what I always do and replied, “Awesome! What do we have to do?” The next day we went to the prosthetics wing of the hospital and had Josh’s legs cast to make plastic sockets. We were there for a few hours during this process and got to watch other guys practicing walking between the parallel bars. I was taking notes on what they were asking their prosthetists and noticing all the different models of legs they were trying on in case we needed any of them.
The next day, the plastic socket for Josh’s leg was ready. I was so excited for him. I wanted to make sure his socket fit and that he got the type of knee the other amputees had suggested for him. Josh was shown how to slip on the socket by first putting on a liner and then the socket to make sure it fit. Then the prosthetist went over the functions of the legs that he was trying on so Josh would know what to expect from the knee, ankles, and sockets. I listened and took copious notes. I wrote, He’s going to need to get some shoes that fit these feet they put on his legs… If he has a robotic knee, we are going to need extra chargers for it… I probably need to buy an extra
