Jude has been attending physical therapy regularly for 3 weeks.

She is trying to be brave.

But she is all over the place and doesn’t want to be there. Today she actually asked if I was going to take her home. Like there was a chance I would leave her there forever. Both the therapist and I knew that it was time to cut it short.

We haven’t really accomplished anything. Even the therapist has tried resorting to bribing her with chocolate and monster truck stickers. No dice.

For Jude, the therapy room represents one of the few things that she is afraid of. Why? Based upon her few other fears we can only assume (since we never saw) that it resembles the orphanage that she spent the first 18 months of her life in.

Jude’s memories of the orphanage are by and large not positive.

Next week we will try one more time to get her to engage in the therapy room (at all). To try something different Mummy will not go (instead Auntie and her cousin will be there with her). If that doesn’t work then we shall have to see if it is possible to move into the adult therapy pool and/or meet off hospital grounds at a community playground.

Nobody said that this was going to be easy. Not even for the experienced therapist.


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