CHEERLEADER

I never was a cheerleader in school, for several reasons: 1. I was not cute and perky; 2. I had zero school spirit; 3. I had the gymnastic ability of a cow; 4. I was generally pessimistic overall, and; 5. I did not want to wear those incredibly short skirts to school every game day. Lots of my friends were cheerleaders, and there was some part of me that thought it would be kind of fun to join with them, but not enough to actually feign pep and vim nor make those cheers come out of my mouth. If I had been a cheerleader I would have been in low-rise wrecked-up jeans and a t-shirt featuring some kind of beer, and my cheers would have consisted of giving the holy stinkeye to the opposing team and their fans while giving the finger and shouting:

ONE TWO THREE FOUR! YOU'RE A BUNCH OF JOCKY BORES!
FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT! YOU'RE THE PEOPLE I TEND TO HATE!
EIGHT SEVEN SIX FIVE! YOU COULDN'T WRITE A SENTENCE TO SAVE YOUR LIVES!
FOUR THREE TWO ONE! THIS SHIT SUCKS AND NOW I'M DONE!
GOOOOOOOOOOO ASSHOLES!

It would have been a singular performance, ending with an escort off the field and a 3-day suspension. But it would have been fondly recalled years later by my classmates at high school reunions, through the haze of time, alcohol, and Rogaine.

I don't think of myself as a cheerleader, but I find myself in the position now. There is so little I can do to help my family member who is hurting and facing probably the toughest physical days of a lifetime in the next few weeks. There is much fear and worry, some anticipatory and needless, some sadly very valid. What I can do is provide a steady and positive presence based on the real accomplishments and real strength that this person already possesses in abundance.

Sometimes we all need a reminder of the good and strong things we have already done, things that may seem like nothing, but are far from that. It is important to hear, specifically, from someone else, yes, I saw and I know and I appreciate and I believe in you.

I can't provide the therapy that will hopefully bring my family member back to independence. I can't prescribe the drugs, I can't evaluate the x-rays or incisions or evaluate range of motion scales. There is nothing I can do to take away the pain and sadness and exhaustion. All I have to give are my honest words, my genuine conveyance of belief that things are going to be tough, yes, but are going to go very, very well. They already are, according to every doctor, nurse, PA, tech, and care coordinator, which is why after the injury on Monday night, the move was made today to the rehabilitation hospital, two days ahead of even the best outcome originally predicted.

It is entirely possible that I may, oh yes I may, I JUST MAY before I leave to return to Seattle-ish, rustle me up a cheerleader costume and some pom-poms, compose a custom cheer appropriate for the situation, and perform it for my family member. I may still be an un-perky inflexible pessimistic cow, but hey, anything for a laugh.