On the first of June, Matt sat alone on the bed (with me at the ready) for a whopping 5-10 seconds. It might seem insignificant, but our equivalent might be attempting to stand that long on a tightrope. Several times, when he started to lose his balance, he used his hand to stabilize on his knee or flailed his arm enough to right the ship—a common balance reaction any of us might use when rescuing ourselves from an impending fall.

I noted this and other small changes in my journal, such as “Sitting up, Matt can extend his left knee to within 30⁰ of full range,” or that a week later, “Matt raised his left hand close to his face as if trying to scratch an itch,” and “He occasionally moves his right thumb and can move his right leg a little when he walks.” Each accomplishment became the baseline metric moving forward. Sharing these details on Facebook kept a supportive group of family, friends, and new acquaintances apprised of Matt’s progress and gave us all an ongoing reality check—this could take a long time. Still, over the passage of months and beyond, each milestone became a time to commemorate collectively and motivated us to face the next hurdle.

Matt and I worked on facial expressions: opening his mouth wide, trying to say "ee" and "ah" and smiling, and I even had him blowing into a Recorder—all of which needed lots of coaxing. As his father’s birthday approached, we routinely mouthed singing Happy Birthday as his surprise birthday gift. Not wanting to be a comic sight—with me exaggerating the words for him to mirror and his face contorted in his effort to comply—we withdrew to the far reaches of a parking lot to practice. We sang songs like Michael Row Your Boat Ashore, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, and other childhood tunes, hoping to trick his vocal cords into joining us. Once, hopefully, I heard two undecipherable but loud sounds—but still no talking.

Efforts to increase shoulder function had plateaued. Although Matt could raise his left arm up lying down, he could not do so sitting up because his strength was inadequate to overcome the increased resistance gravity applied to the weight of his arm (approximately six to eight pounds). This is similar to the effect the moon’s gravitational force has on a man’s body compared to that imposed by the Earth—the difference is substantial. Overcoming this transition was a hurdle, and Matt was stuck here. I rigged up elastic exercise bands overhead to offer just enough elastic lift to assist in raising his arm while letting his muscles do the bulk of the work. Over time, the plan was to swap out these bands and offer less assistance until he reached the point of being able to do it himself.

We also utilized therapy bands to add resistance to other muscles, as is more common. He continued to exercise using dumbbells for the elbow and hand and a two-pound cuff weight for left knee extension. Matt often completed one to two sets of ten repetitions—yet he remained unable to extend his right leg or wiggle that foot.