Yesterday at Rehab, Bob wilted in the standing machine. And I do mean "wilted" like a drooping flower on a hot day. He slumped over the little table in front of the machine, laid his head on the table top, and he began crying and saying one word over and over: "Gone, gone, gone". The therapist tried to cajole him into standing upright to no avail, finally, took him out of the machine and tried instead to get him standing on the parallel bars. At the bars, he kept falling backward into the wheelchair, kept crying, kept saying that word: "gone, gone, gone."
I went to him then and tried to coax him into cooperating, but he kept saying "gone" and tears were flowing down his cheeks and I asked him what was gone? And he indicated his leg, his arm, his mouth and his brain by pointing to these areas of his body. He was crumbling in front of us. Falling apart. And I am crumbling, too.
Afterward, we had a meeting with all three therapists and all three of them told me that Bob was "just not progressing" and they saw "no need to continue" his therapy. Somehow, I managed to get them to agree to two more weeks of therapy, however, if he doesn't improve, doesn't "progress", well, then rehab is over for him.