Okay, that worked a little *too* well...
At the moment, Jim has very little control over his right hand and arm. Obviously, it's important for him to practice using them so that maybe he can get some use of them back. To this end, I came up with a little ploy...
When I'm with him, I accompany Jim into the bathroom to help out as needed. Yesterday, he did a good job at forcing his right hand to participate in the process of washing and drying his hands. He then turned towards the door to leave, and was a little confused when I stood in the way and gave him a challenging look.
I turned my arms palms-up, then made my hands into fists. "Do this," I commanded. It took some effort, but he did. "Now, with your right hand and only your right hand, punch me in the balls." I then swung my own right arm upward between us, just to be extra clear. It took a few attempts, but he got his arm to the point where he could swing it appropriately, but he always stopped short of actually connecting with my crotch. "I can't do that," he said with a pleading look in his eyes. He meant, he didn't want to hurt me. I stared at him harder. "Yes. You can."
You know what? Jim's got a *lot* of strength in that arm. Oh my god.
Several minutes later, we were both back in his hospital bed. He indicated to me that, in the drawer immediately to my left, there was a bar of chocolate I could gnaw on if I wanted. So I twisted away from him towards the drawer and yelped. The sneaky fucker racked me again. What happened to him not wanting to hurt me?! However, I was hell-bent on quality chocolate, so I uninterruptedly continued my mission of retrieving it; an opportunity Jim took complete advantage of. By the time I could turn back towards him to glare meaningfully, candy bar in hand, he'd popped me several times.
"You cheated," I said in a slightly strained voice. "That was your left hand. Right hand only." So he hit me again with his right fist.
The rest of my day was a series of surprise bursts of pain, each followed with the calm explanation of, "It was my right hand!" Most of these originated from my boyfriend, but my husband wanted to join in on the fun and contributed several sneak attacks of his own. I'm not sure why his aim is so good with an activity we've never done before...
The good news is, at this rate, Jim will have complete use of his arm and fist back in no time!
When I'm with him, I accompany Jim into the bathroom to help out as needed. Yesterday, he did a good job at forcing his right hand to participate in the process of washing and drying his hands. He then turned towards the door to leave, and was a little confused when I stood in the way and gave him a challenging look.
I turned my arms palms-up, then made my hands into fists. "Do this," I commanded. It took some effort, but he did. "Now, with your right hand and only your right hand, punch me in the balls." I then swung my own right arm upward between us, just to be extra clear. It took a few attempts, but he got his arm to the point where he could swing it appropriately, but he always stopped short of actually connecting with my crotch. "I can't do that," he said with a pleading look in his eyes. He meant, he didn't want to hurt me. I stared at him harder. "Yes. You can."
You know what? Jim's got a *lot* of strength in that arm. Oh my god.
Several minutes later, we were both back in his hospital bed. He indicated to me that, in the drawer immediately to my left, there was a bar of chocolate I could gnaw on if I wanted. So I twisted away from him towards the drawer and yelped. The sneaky fucker racked me again. What happened to him not wanting to hurt me?! However, I was hell-bent on quality chocolate, so I uninterruptedly continued my mission of retrieving it; an opportunity Jim took complete advantage of. By the time I could turn back towards him to glare meaningfully, candy bar in hand, he'd popped me several times.
"You cheated," I said in a slightly strained voice. "That was your left hand. Right hand only." So he hit me again with his right fist.
The rest of my day was a series of surprise bursts of pain, each followed with the calm explanation of, "It was my right hand!" Most of these originated from my boyfriend, but my husband wanted to join in on the fun and contributed several sneak attacks of his own. I'm not sure why his aim is so good with an activity we've never done before...
The good news is, at this rate, Jim will have complete use of his arm and fist back in no time!