Rob's Corner: The Carboy Incident

Years ago I planted grapevines in the backyard. Syrah, Chardonnay, Zinfandel, a few table grapes for good measure. I have no memory of what I was thinking at the time, but they've been growing ever since, and this year I finally decided we were making wine.

Braden and Audrey got me winemaking kits for Christmas and my birthday, which I took as a mandate. So I went out and picked, basket after basket, sorted by variety, and got everything ready for press day. I don't drink. I want to be clear about that. This was never about the wine itself. It was about doing the thing correctly.

My medical background showed up in ways Heather found funnier than I did. I wanted everything sterile. I had her glove up before handling anything, which apparently included me getting frustrated that she touched the outside of the gloves while putting them on. In my defense, that's how contamination works.

Pressing red grapes in a white kitchen was, in hindsight, a bold choice. Every so often the press would let one squirt sideways, and we'd find wine on the ceiling, on the counters, in places wine has no business being. It's fermenting now in glass carboys, which I did not know were called that until we bought them. Whether it turns into wine or the world's most expensive vinegar remains to be seen. Either way, I finished it.

Heather's Translation

Watching Rob work through this project, I saw something I don't always get to see clearly, how much effort goes into a multi-step process for him now. Picking the grapes was the easy part. Sorting them, timing the press, remembering the sequence, tracking what had to happen next, that's the part that takes real work for his brain now. More than once I'd catch him losing the thread and gently bring him back. Okay, this is step one. Let's just do this step.

He never asked for help with the sequencing, and I didn't make it a thing. I just stayed close enough to catch it when it slipped. That's most of caregiving, honestly. Not doing it for him. Just being the net.

By the end of the day our kitchen looked like a crime scene and Rob was as proud as I've seen him in a while. A man who doesn't drink, standing over jugs of his own fermenting wine, completely delighted with himself. I'll take that trade every time.

One fact worth knowing:

Planning, sequencing, and keeping track of steps are executive functions, and they can be affected after traumatic brain injury. The source below is a study protocol describing a trial of goal management training. It does not establish that the intervention is effective.

Source:

Executive function training in chronic traumatic brain injury patients: study protocol. Trials, 2019. https://trialsjournal.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s13063-019-3526-x

What Helped

I stayed close, named one next step when the sequence slipped, and let Rob keep ownership of the project.

Closing

Has your person found a project that gives them that kind of pride, the “I finished it” feeling? We'd love to hear about it.

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