We had high hopes for a productive session since she hadn't been seizing that day. But when I arrived, fifteen minutes after it had begun, I found her in the tight grip of a novice: see photo below.
The novice told me that she was filling in for C.'s regular therapist who was a no-show that day. She was clueless as to how to work with C., and just clutched her to smithereens.
I immediately intervened, urging her to let go and allow C. to float independently. But she just couldn't do that.
I noticed another therapist in the pool who used to work with C. while she was still in school.
"How about asking her for guidance?" I suggested to the novice.
"How about I just ask her to swap students with me?" she replied.
I couldn't have been more thrilled. Only fifteen minutes of therapy remained but they left me, the therapist and C.'s caregiver, all elated. Not only did C. float on her own she moved her legs to keep them afloat too - something she has never done before.
There is simply no therapy like hydro!
And the next day was C.'s chance to caress her adorable nephew:
Now, she's recovering from a stomach virus that I brought home. Could've done without this but thankfully it's passing quickly.
For those who are wondering why I arrived fifteen minutes after C.'s caregiver had brought her to hydro, promptness isn't my forte and never was.
I read a terrific short story yesterday that expressed my time troubles perfectly. The story's narrator says:
"I'm 9, a solid sensitive, fearful boy. There's a big judo competition today. I never get anywhere on time. I don't know time. I have no understanding of time. Time is beyond me."