B’s speech had already improved a bit by the time I arrived at the hospital this morning. I was greeted with ‘I love you’ which was great (I was really hoping to hear this when he could manage it, and not ‘who are you?’)
We had a session with the speech and language therapist, which was excellent. He went through lots of exercises involving repetition, visual cues and drawings and B could actually say quite a lot. He knows it all, it’s just a matter of getting to it.
As he’s super smart, he has a funny habit of trying to say things in a complicated way, rather than the easiest and simplest way possible. For example, when the therapist asked him what the best part of the session was, he said “being able to… formulate… sentences”. Formulate!
He also referred to one drawing of a man as ‘a bloke’. That was a proud Aussie moment for me.
All the specialists and therapists think B is doing remarkably well. I still find it astounding that he only had brain surgery 3 days ago but is already walking around, talking, and being unmistakably ‘himself’. There is a long way to go of course, but we will get there.
Now we’re at home and B is having a nap. A quiet few days ahead until our appointment with Mr Bhangoo in his Harley Street rooms on Thursday. Mum thinks I’m a heartless bitch for asking whether B will be able to manage a tube journey by then (I prefer to think of it as economical). He said ‘best to get a cab’. ‘A cab across the city in the middle of the day! We’re not all neurosurgeons’ (I thought, rather than said. I don’t want to antagonise The Business).