As Day Forty-Five ends, I learned that even though Jenny is able to eat normally (under full supervision) she must still use the direct stomach feeding tube overnight as she cannot consume enough calories for maintenance. She has lost weight and they are using the tube feed to bring her back to a healthier level.

Jenny is talking a little more now and is able to hold basic conversations but is still mixing up many memories. Tonight she thought my name was Peter and once again when I told her that was not my name she laughed saying she cannot believe I don’t even know my own name. She also used the phrase “You’re dumb dumb.” multiple times which I found adorable.

I’d like to talk about a discovery I learned from Day Forty-One when Jenny insisted my name was “Suki” seemingly out of nowhere. I was informed that the term “Suki” is actually a well-known and frequently used term in the Filipino culture. If you work at a business or shop of any sort, “Suki” refers to a very loyal customer to your business. It’s a term for the partnership of a customer that consistently returns to buy more products or services from your business because they trust the quality or have built a relationship with you over time.

I believe somewhere in Jenny’s mind she was connecting me to a loyal customer of sorts. This meant that even though Jenny cannot consistently remember my name, she is aware that I am a frequent “customer”. The moment I was informed of this I felt the same sensation from all the way back to Day Twenty-Three when I had finally pieced together what Jenny was trying to say to me that week as she kept repeating “Make it ten”, “Make it nine” or “Make it seven”. Even though her memory cannot remember my name everyday, her memory does acknowledge at least seeing me everyday. I am not ashamed to say once I found out what “Suki” actually meant, tears began streaming down my face once more. This new knowledge gave further vindication for my endeavors in being there for her everyday.

Lastly, today was the first day I got to have a meal with Jenny since the accident as yesterday she was upgraded to a Standard Texture Diet from the Speech & Language Pathologist team. It has been over 1 ½ months since we last ate something together. Of course there was joy to be had but it came at a very heavy cost. Since Jenny does not have enough dexterity to control the utensils herself she can only eat under full supervision meaning I still have to feed her. But if I feed her that means during that time I am not able to eat myself. Jenny was constantly worrying about me not being able to eat and along with not enjoying that specific hospital dish she kept telling me to stop feeding her and to eat my own food instead. It was an unexpectedly difficult ordeal and Jenny seemed to not have a good time. In fact, she never smiled even once through the whole meal and was noticeably sullen. It was a bleak milestone because the moment I started feeding her it hit me that I was feeding her. None of this should be happening in the first place and I was quickly brought back to reality because I was harshly reminded how desperate and burdened this entire situation is. At one point she even pushed the tray away and said

“You eat first I don’t want you to feed me until you finish eating.”

But that is the farthest thing away from enjoying a meal together. I cannot eat while feeding her and she cannot eat if I am eating. This moment was just another eye-opening experience in how truly difficult ordinary things can be with recovery and how we often unknowingly take for granted what is considered routine in life. I was originally so happy to finally be able to have a meal with Jenny and yet, even with food in front of both of us, it feels as if enjoying a meal together is still so far away.