Today was John's first full day home, and we started the morning with outpatient speech therapy.

He met his new speech therapist, Saskia, and we both came away impressed. She worked through a variety of exercises, some of which were familiar from inpatient rehab. She also explained that John is dealing with both aphasia and apraxia. Aphasia affects his ability to understand and produce language, while apraxia makes it difficult for his brain to translate instructions into the correct sequence of actions. So something that sounds simple—like "put the spoon on the plate" or "put the pen between the two books"—can become much more complicated than it appears. John worked incredibly hard today; it's a very raw, emotional experience watching him put everything into pulling those words and phrases from inside.

The therapist would like to see him three times a week, but because of scheduling they can only fit him in twice next week, so we'll be doing plenty of practice exercises together here at home.

During one of the exercises, Saskia asked John if he remembered what had happened and why he was in speech therapy. She was hoping to learn what he understood about his stroke. Instead of writing "stroke," John carefully wrote one word: scallops. It took us both a moment to realize what he meant. The very last thing he remembers before everything changed was making scallops. It was an incredibly emotional moment for both of us—a reminder that memories can return in unexpected ways, and that his brain is still finding its path back, one connection at a time.

After therapy, we tackled the dreaded password protection: John wanted to get his phone and iPad working again, and so did I, because all of his medical appointments are sent to his email. He couldn't recall his passcode on either, though, so we were fully locked out. We headed to the Verizon store and then the Apple Store at the Natick Mall. It was John's first trip back out since coming home, and it was a new experience for both of us, with me explaining his condition and asking for help.

The people at the Apple Store were incredibly kind and patient. They got both devices reset and working again, which means John is once again connected with his friends and family. If you'd like to send him a message telling him how proud you are of how far he's come or simply letting him know you're thinking about him, I know it would mean a lot. If he doesn't replu, it's not personal – he's just starting to use his devices.

On the way home, we picked up his prescriptions and then each made our own salads; I couldn't help but smile. Put John in a kitchen, and he immediately goes right back to chopping vegetables and preparing food as though nothing changed 13 days ago.

Then came one of those moments that reminds me we're both learning.

I walked outside to find John enthusiastically trying to vacuum the swimming pool…using a pool vacuum we haven't used in probably ten years. I panicked a little, trying to figure out what he was doing. He felt bad that he'd worried me. Then I felt bad that I'd made him feel bad. We had a tough mutually sad moment and agreed that we both needed a nap.

To lighten our spirits, i suggested we take the dogs for a walk together in the sunshine. It felt wonderfully ordinary. We came home, made burritos for dinner, and then John decided Franklin needed a bath. Before I knew it, he had him standing in the kitchen sink getting a full spa treatment. It was another unexpected moment—but this time, I had absolutely no complaints.

Tomorrow we were lucky enough to grab a cancellation with John's primary care physician. One of the biggest topics we'll discuss is what the right balance looks like when I return to working half days next week. I want John to have as much independence as possible, because that's important to both of us. At the same time, I need to know that if he needs help, someone is nearby while still giving him the space to do his own thing.

I'm considering setting up a CaringBridge calendar where friends and family could volunteer to stop by for short visits or simply check in while I'm working. I'm not sure exactly what that will look like yet, but after tomorrow's appointment I'll have a much better idea, and I'll keep everyone posted.

As always, thank you for walking this journey with us. Every encouraging message, every prayer, and every act of kindness helps carry us through one more day. 🫂🙏❤️