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CIT--last day

This was day.....Day 21. I was woefully inadequate in my counting. My days got mixed up.

And this was the very last day we had to get up and be at the hospital at 9 a.m.

Wild Applause!!!!

Ashley snuggled into her daddy while we waited for everything to start.




Today was a day of therapy for the first hour or so, then testing and measuring the differences in their before and after dexterity and strength. The third hour was to be the final swim of the program but was canceled due to something unmentionable happening in the pool.

Before I tell you about the day, I want to show you Mickey. He used to sit near the entrance of the hospital and when we'd come in my children would say "hello Mickey!" and when we'd leave they would say "Goodbye Mickey!" and give him a hug. He was kind of a given---a constant if you will, for us. Yes, I know it's quite sad that my children had such a relationship with a wooden figure. When they were a little older we got them real friends.

We noticed at one point that he was gone and then suddenly he reappeared. Mickey is back!



I think he shrunk. I refuse to believe my children are getting taller.

la la la la la la la I can't heaaaaaaaaar you!

So, the last day of CIT. We left the girls in the hands of the therapists and we left the hospital. I think we were both suffering a bad case of hospital burn out. We went and got a bagel, drove around a bit then came back.

No worries....we always return. Like a boomerang. Like a homing pigeon. Like the swallows of Capistrano. Like teenagers when the money runs out. We found Ashley being tested and video taped. She didn't want me in there and it will clearly show on the video taped record that she ordered me out of the room. Nicely, but still an order.



I'm not sure what she was doing here but she may have been showing the therapist "This is how my head feels when my mommy follows me around with her camera". It's just a guess.




We went to the parent resource room to play on the computers I mean to do some very important work online and then we went to the pool but found the sign saying it was not a good place to swim that day. Back upstairs we went in search of our child and found all of them in the therapy area playing some games.

Devon was bowling.



And Ashley was playing some sort of game. Oh wait, that's bowling too. I just came back to edit that and tell you that it's bowling. I know what bowling is. Honest. So, she's bowling.



When she saw us she ran to get the treat she'd made for us the day before. Much to my dismay there wasn't a broccoli floret on the plate! It was just chocolate chip cookies. You can see Peggy here, eying the plate. Later we had to wrestle her for them. You'll be glad to know that we won. :) (KIDDING!) She won! No, ok, not really. There was no wrestling. No Occupational Therapists were injured in the making of this blog post. :)



Speaking of blog posts, we told them about this blog with all the pictures of the CIT camp. They wanted to see it, so I logged on for them and they gathered around. They seemed to be gasping as they read. I hope this was in a good way, but the jury could still be out on that one. I took a picture of the Blog Stalkers. See?



All in all......a wonderful and very helpful experience. Ashley loved it and said she wants to sign on for another round. I'm not sure how that works but we can probably get on the waiting list for CIT again. At least I hope so.

Thanks for everything!



I almost forgot to say that we had lunch in the cafeteria with Devon and her mom. Such wonderful people--I'm so glad we got to know them.

Ashley and Devon discussed the after-cit-plan together. Each will be doing certain activities with their weaker hands in order to keep up their gains.




Ashley did something sweet for her sister when we left the hospital today. I'll post about that tomorrow as I'm pretty wiped out from two hours of swimming tonight.

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Back

BACK

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His eyes half open

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Looking back on his life
His choices my jury

How did this happen
Back to evil and sin
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Lines on his skin

Back to my weeping
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