
So, the Pump. That happened. Here’s the short version of the story.
I had the surgery on December 1. After a very surreal 48 hours, I made it to The Rehab. For whatever reason, my own confusion, being given incomplete information, whatever, I was under the impression that I was only going to be there for 2-3 days, maybe a week. When I got there, I discovered that the plan was for me to be there for two weeks. It took me a few days to calm down, understand and accept the plan. I’d been in the hospital for extended lengths of time before, but as an attending parent, never as a patient. It’s a weird place. I gradually discovered that my mental and physical fitness was constantly being evaluated through every interaction with a nurse or a therapist or a doctor. Each morning, my physical and occupational and speech therapy schedule appeared on a white board in my room. This being the short version, I won’t go into the daily details. Suffice to say that when they told me they were considering letting me out a few days ahead of schedule, I buckled down and followed The Rules to the letter.
My body came home on December 15. It took me at least another week to mentally get home. Needless to say, I was totally unprepared for Christmas. What had happened to my body had thrown me for a huge loop. The baclofen being squirted into my spine was removing much of the spasticity, revealing a surprising underlying weakness. I felt I was back to square one. Simply rising out of a chair required a bit of preplanning and a major effort. Walking down the hall was a challenge. I was guarding my spoons like never before. The fact of my disability was unceremoniously revealed to me.
We all know how it goes with continuing physical therapy. They set up a program of exercises, and leave you to do them on your own every day. Which you don’t do. At least I didn’t. But this time has been different. I’m working with some wonderfully inspiring and dedicated therapists, and actually doing the work. Rebuilding my muscle strength will be a long road. And I am unsure how much mobility I will be able to regain, how much hand strength and small motor skill I can recover/build. But for some reason, the idea that doing that work is my Job, just as important as going off to work, has sunk in. I’m looking forward to a long and productive career.
Take it slow… Sounds like there is something there for your body to get used to… And your mind!!!
Christmas sucks anyway
my neurosurgeon told me of course i’m not feeling quite right – i’m got a hockey puck in my belly.
Have been wondering. Sounds like you’ve been a good sport through the overtime, fouls and bad calls. Cheering you on from the stands!