I can't believe it's been over a year since I have posted. Time passes so fast! In the last 16 or so months some things have changed drastically and some none at all. The one thing that never changes is that I am blessed to surrounded by the love of my family and friends. Another thing that never changes is how much I miss Mom. Unfortunately, I still have the dreams about her being alive and just leaving because she didn't love me anymore. I know this comes from a mixture of how bad I feel for not being with her at the end and the fact that my last memories of her were that she was basically fine and yet I wake up to find she is gone. Going to her grave didn't really make a difference. Seeing her name on a piece of stone didn't mean anything. My grandmother's name had been on the double headstone she shared with my grandfather since his death before I was born. I had gotten a snow globe that let you put a picture in it so she would have something of me with her. Yes, it sounds stupid but I just needed to leave something with her. One of the most difficult things I have done is to watch the video of her funeral. It warmed my heart to see all the people who came to pay their respects. Seeing her in the casket was surreal. My brain says she is gone but my heart says she can't be gone.
Physically, I continue to prove Dr Glogau wrong as far as being in crippling pain. There are good and bad days but I try to keep a smile on my face and just work through it it. Each time I see him, he gives me the enjoy it now because it is going to get worse speech. My pelvis being being higher on the left side has caused bursitis in my right hip but that was resolved with just one cortisone injection. Surgery number7 to lengthen my Achilles tendon turned out to be a lot more involved that originally expected but Dr Desai is my hero! With the tendon lengthening and moving a couple of muscles, he changed my life! Gone are the days of being scared I would fall with every step. Now, I still have to be really careful, but I can live my life. That day in the wheelchair, when I decided to fight, I never thought I would get to this point! Physically I have blown away everyone's greatest hopes. Now I do face a new hurdle...I have 2 spots on my lungs. Since they were found when I had pneumonia, they couldn't tell what they were so I have to go back for more X-rays next month. After a month on a respirator, I think they are scar tissue. The drs say they could be infection, scar tissue, or a multitude up to cancer. Even though I have never smoked, I grew up around second hand smoke so I know cancer is definitely an option (especially since Mom had breast cancer and dad died of cancer). I am not discounting it but, getting all freaked over cancer when it could easily be nothing seems like a huge waste of time! I didn't get to this point by dwelling on the worst case scenario!
I want to end this post with a saying that is written on a necklace I never take off...My mother was the greatest gift to me. Patient and kind, she loved me unconditionally. She was all I could ever hope to be. May she rest in peace with you Lord for eternity.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Replacing the zoom zoom...
I very quickly decided that I was going to have to get clearance to drive and find a car or poor Kip was going to have to devote his entire day, 5 days a week to toting me around. He was amazingly great about it but, when I started having some sort of appointment almost every day (some days more than one), I just couldn't ask him to keep it up.
Before the wreck, new car shopping was just about my favorite past time! There was also something I liked better and wanted. When I bought my Mazda 6 (on 6/6/2006 yes, we laughed about it then), I made a vow that I was buying a car that I would pay off and keep at least a year after that so I would have a decent trade in (instead of upside down) and a chance to get some extra money in savings. So much for that great idea! Now car shopping was scary. Some of my friends friends wanted to try to turn it into something fun and we would go around doing test drives all weekend. I wasn't ready for that. First of all, walking around a dealership on a walker wasn't my idea of fun and getting behind the wheel wasn't either. Luckily I had a dr's appointment within a few days of making my car buying decision so I could get the ok to drive before I changed my mind.
I didn't know where to start. Usually I went car shopping because I fell in love with something I had seem on tv so it was just a matter of finding the best deal. Cute was all that mattered! Now cute wasn't impotent at all. All I cared about was their safety record. When I look back, I am VERY impressed with how my Mazda held up in the wreck. The fact that everyone involved wasn't killed instantly shows how much has been done to improve the safety of cars! Unfortunately, my car innocence had been destroyed. We get in them everyday and never give a thought to the fact that cars are dangerous. There are people that would walk from New York to LA before the would get in a plane even though you are far more likely to die in a car. Some of those people will argue that they have control of their car but they don't have control of the plane. The thing is, you have control of your car and you might be the world's best driver, but you don't control what goes on around you. My wreck happened so quick that all I remember was the sound of the crash and spinning. I couldn't control the girl that hit us. Once you realize that you have very little control, driving is scary. All you can do is be in the safest car you can afford! Of course Volvo is known for their safety features but I knew I couldn't afford that. Being in my 4th month of being off work and only getting 60% of my salary, price was definitely a big consideration. Something kept taking me back to the Volvo site. One day I noticed a 2008 S40 with just under 11,000 miles at a great price. Soon we were signing papers and it was time for me to drive off the lot. Of course Kip stayed with me, letting me follow him to lunch and then to the place to get my handicapped tag (more on that later). Finally it was time for Kip to push me out of the nest and both of us to drive home. Driving turned out to not be as bad as I thought it was going to be. It took a while for me to not flinch every time someone got too close to me and for me not to freak out if I drove past a wreck. I still hate driving outside the city and beyond hate driving on two lane roads. As we approach the second anniversary of the wreck, I can finally say I passed a car on a two lane road! That was one of my big moments!!
Now I have the new car bug again. Safety is still King, but I am looking at cute too!
Before the wreck, new car shopping was just about my favorite past time! There was also something I liked better and wanted. When I bought my Mazda 6 (on 6/6/2006 yes, we laughed about it then), I made a vow that I was buying a car that I would pay off and keep at least a year after that so I would have a decent trade in (instead of upside down) and a chance to get some extra money in savings. So much for that great idea! Now car shopping was scary. Some of my friends friends wanted to try to turn it into something fun and we would go around doing test drives all weekend. I wasn't ready for that. First of all, walking around a dealership on a walker wasn't my idea of fun and getting behind the wheel wasn't either. Luckily I had a dr's appointment within a few days of making my car buying decision so I could get the ok to drive before I changed my mind.
I didn't know where to start. Usually I went car shopping because I fell in love with something I had seem on tv so it was just a matter of finding the best deal. Cute was all that mattered! Now cute wasn't impotent at all. All I cared about was their safety record. When I look back, I am VERY impressed with how my Mazda held up in the wreck. The fact that everyone involved wasn't killed instantly shows how much has been done to improve the safety of cars! Unfortunately, my car innocence had been destroyed. We get in them everyday and never give a thought to the fact that cars are dangerous. There are people that would walk from New York to LA before the would get in a plane even though you are far more likely to die in a car. Some of those people will argue that they have control of their car but they don't have control of the plane. The thing is, you have control of your car and you might be the world's best driver, but you don't control what goes on around you. My wreck happened so quick that all I remember was the sound of the crash and spinning. I couldn't control the girl that hit us. Once you realize that you have very little control, driving is scary. All you can do is be in the safest car you can afford! Of course Volvo is known for their safety features but I knew I couldn't afford that. Being in my 4th month of being off work and only getting 60% of my salary, price was definitely a big consideration. Something kept taking me back to the Volvo site. One day I noticed a 2008 S40 with just under 11,000 miles at a great price. Soon we were signing papers and it was time for me to drive off the lot. Of course Kip stayed with me, letting me follow him to lunch and then to the place to get my handicapped tag (more on that later). Finally it was time for Kip to push me out of the nest and both of us to drive home. Driving turned out to not be as bad as I thought it was going to be. It took a while for me to not flinch every time someone got too close to me and for me not to freak out if I drove past a wreck. I still hate driving outside the city and beyond hate driving on two lane roads. As we approach the second anniversary of the wreck, I can finally say I passed a car on a two lane road! That was one of my big moments!!
Now I have the new car bug again. Safety is still King, but I am looking at cute too!
Monday, August 23, 2010
Home sweet home...
After signing my new lease and some where did Shermaine leave the key, I was home. Bailey didn't hate me for being gone for three months but she took her frustrations out on Kip and the Time Warner guy! When he was sure I was settled, Kip left and I was completely alone for the first time. I think if I could have gotten up and run after him I would have. The warm fuzzy of being home had quickly turned to pure terror. My physical therapist made me promise to keep my cell phone charged and with me at all times. I sat there, looking around an apartment full of boxes, scared to get up. Of course, all it would take was one phone call and Kip would have come back to take me to stay with him and Kristi or Mary would had one of her girls come pack me up for the trip to her house in Brownwood. No matter how scared I was, I was determined to make it alone. Of course, for me, alone would always mean with an army of support.
When I finally got enough nerve built up to try to move around, I realized how exhausting it was to move from room to room. My 600 sq ft apartment seemed like 6000! No matter how tired I was, I vowed not to use the wheelchair unless I absolutely had to. I walked out of rehab on the walker and I was NOT going to use it at home! I made it to bed and just collapsed! I had forgotten what a real bed felt like. I had also forgotten the simple joy of rough Bailey kisses. As scary as it was, it was nice to be home and feel like a normal person again.
The girls at my apartment office sent me welcome home balloons and offered to come help me with anything I needed. Shermaine came by every night and wouldn't leave until I was tucked in with a bottle of water and coke by my bed. Kip bought concrete stepping stones to boost my favorite chair up so it was easier to get out of and was also the person that took me to my constant dr's appts and physical therapy. Kip also got me out of the house several times a week to go walking at the mall. As tough as it was, it was also fun getting out and just hanging out with Kip.
Slowly I started cooking a little and figured out ways to get things where I needed them. It might not have been the normal way but I made it work.
Of course, as you gain confidence, you start being stupid. I was walking around my apt some without the walker some (I had a trail of furniture and counters to hang onto). One day I went to the bathroom without the walker and fell. I knew better because the bathroom floor could be slick. Also, my left foot was stuck in a position that made it almost like walking on tiptoe on that foot. I don't remember much except for being on the floor and my cell phone being in the bedroom. One of the things that concerned my occupational therapist in rehab was the fact that they couldn't teach me how to get up from a fall because of the limited weight i could put on my left leg and right wrist. Now, here I was, on the floor, with no clue what to do! I slowly drug myself into the bedroom and figured out a way to climb into bed. Luckily I was fine but my confidence took a big hit! It took a while before I tried to walk without the walked again!
When I finally got enough nerve built up to try to move around, I realized how exhausting it was to move from room to room. My 600 sq ft apartment seemed like 6000! No matter how tired I was, I vowed not to use the wheelchair unless I absolutely had to. I walked out of rehab on the walker and I was NOT going to use it at home! I made it to bed and just collapsed! I had forgotten what a real bed felt like. I had also forgotten the simple joy of rough Bailey kisses. As scary as it was, it was nice to be home and feel like a normal person again.
The girls at my apartment office sent me welcome home balloons and offered to come help me with anything I needed. Shermaine came by every night and wouldn't leave until I was tucked in with a bottle of water and coke by my bed. Kip bought concrete stepping stones to boost my favorite chair up so it was easier to get out of and was also the person that took me to my constant dr's appts and physical therapy. Kip also got me out of the house several times a week to go walking at the mall. As tough as it was, it was also fun getting out and just hanging out with Kip.
Slowly I started cooking a little and figured out ways to get things where I needed them. It might not have been the normal way but I made it work.
Of course, as you gain confidence, you start being stupid. I was walking around my apt some without the walker some (I had a trail of furniture and counters to hang onto). One day I went to the bathroom without the walker and fell. I knew better because the bathroom floor could be slick. Also, my left foot was stuck in a position that made it almost like walking on tiptoe on that foot. I don't remember much except for being on the floor and my cell phone being in the bedroom. One of the things that concerned my occupational therapist in rehab was the fact that they couldn't teach me how to get up from a fall because of the limited weight i could put on my left leg and right wrist. Now, here I was, on the floor, with no clue what to do! I slowly drug myself into the bedroom and figured out a way to climb into bed. Luckily I was fine but my confidence took a big hit! It took a while before I tried to walk without the walked again!
Sunday, August 22, 2010
One last look at rehab...
Before my rehab stories are over, I do want say there were happy times. There was a never ending line of visitors. It was fun for my family to meet my friends. On one occasion it was pretty interesting. We will just say one of my friends lives an alternate lifestyle (nothing illegal). She was talking and a few things slipped out. No one seemed to notice but a few weeks later Kip was like hey ??? I just laughed and said yep. lol
There was also am insane ritual every morning. I guess all the old people get up with birds but not me! At 5am they came around to get your stats, at 6 it was time for for meds, 7 was breakfast and therapy schedules, then at 8 it was time for therapy. Everyone that knows me, knows I do not do mornings!!!
Another funny thing about rehab was my wardrobe. One of my friends brought me a bunch of work out stuff but most of the bottoms were shorts or capri's. Sure, shorts were cooler but my legs hadn't seen a razor since thanksgiving!! Sometimes my workout stuff looked like a colorblind 5 year old picked them out in the dark. My favorite (NOT) was my Christmas pajamas! I don't know why I worried about it considering the situation but it kind got to be a joke with my friends.
The most fun part of my therapy session was when the cute therapist tied me up. Ok, so he really but a belt around my knees because I didn't have the strength to keep my legs together during my leg lifts. Everyone teased him about liking to tie me up.
After finding out my wrist was broken, I had to change up my therapy. Instead of doing the hand bicycle I got to play wii bowling!! I made fast friends with a man that had also been but on the wii. The funny thing was that we were both right handed and suffering from right side injuries yet we STILL beat the therapist!
Yes, there were some fun times but, good or bad, my time at rehab was quickly coming to an end. I was finally going home!!! My last few days of therapy were teaching me how to do things and making sure I would be able to manage on my own. Mary wanted me to come to Brownwood so she could take care of me and Kristi and Kip were more than happy for me to stay with them for a while. The thing was that I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my cat Bailey, who is my baby. I wanted to not have people hovering over me all the time. So, after practicing getting things out of and putting things back into the refrigerator, simulating cooking and doing laundry, and getting in and out of the shower using a shower chair I was deemed homeable...great word huh! lol.
I also practiced walking outside with my walker. When you are stepping off a curb with a walker, it seems like stepping off a bridge! My last hurdle was practicing getting in and out of Kip's SUV since he would be the one that would be picking me up. That went really well so I was headed home!!!
There was also am insane ritual every morning. I guess all the old people get up with birds but not me! At 5am they came around to get your stats, at 6 it was time for for meds, 7 was breakfast and therapy schedules, then at 8 it was time for therapy. Everyone that knows me, knows I do not do mornings!!!
Another funny thing about rehab was my wardrobe. One of my friends brought me a bunch of work out stuff but most of the bottoms were shorts or capri's. Sure, shorts were cooler but my legs hadn't seen a razor since thanksgiving!! Sometimes my workout stuff looked like a colorblind 5 year old picked them out in the dark. My favorite (NOT) was my Christmas pajamas! I don't know why I worried about it considering the situation but it kind got to be a joke with my friends.
The most fun part of my therapy session was when the cute therapist tied me up. Ok, so he really but a belt around my knees because I didn't have the strength to keep my legs together during my leg lifts. Everyone teased him about liking to tie me up.
After finding out my wrist was broken, I had to change up my therapy. Instead of doing the hand bicycle I got to play wii bowling!! I made fast friends with a man that had also been but on the wii. The funny thing was that we were both right handed and suffering from right side injuries yet we STILL beat the therapist!
Yes, there were some fun times but, good or bad, my time at rehab was quickly coming to an end. I was finally going home!!! My last few days of therapy were teaching me how to do things and making sure I would be able to manage on my own. Mary wanted me to come to Brownwood so she could take care of me and Kristi and Kip were more than happy for me to stay with them for a while. The thing was that I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my cat Bailey, who is my baby. I wanted to not have people hovering over me all the time. So, after practicing getting things out of and putting things back into the refrigerator, simulating cooking and doing laundry, and getting in and out of the shower using a shower chair I was deemed homeable...great word huh! lol.
I also practiced walking outside with my walker. When you are stepping off a curb with a walker, it seems like stepping off a bridge! My last hurdle was practicing getting in and out of Kip's SUV since he would be the one that would be picking me up. That went really well so I was headed home!!!
Saturday, August 21, 2010
The car tried to eat my leg...
The next part of the rehab experience the I left out was coming to grips with the massive scars on my left leg. After the skin graft was done, I avoided looking at my leg because I was scared it of seeing how bad it was. Before the surgery it looked bad but I still had the surgery. When the bandages came off for the first time it looked horrible but the plastic surgeon was thrilled with it. Grafts of this size rarely take the first time but mine was...so far. The surgeon was NOT happy that I was going back to Plano and actually told me that if anything happened with the graft, it was because he wasn't the one taking care of it!
Fortunately my wound care dr took very good care of it but I still didn't want to see it. Even though the dressing had to be changed every day, I made it a week or so without looking at it. The part of my thigh wear they harvested the skin was a different matter! It was now a huge scab and had healed to to point where it didn't hurt for air to touch it but pretty everything else was still bad. I left a trail of scabs wherever I went...sorry, I know that is gross. lol.
One day fate intervened and, what would turn into a daily ritual, forced me to get used to seeing my scar. Integra was in the process of being sold so things that were not needed a lot seemed to get overlooked when the orders were done. Apparently the medicated, vasoliney strips that were the first layer of my wound dressing just happened to be one of those items. While the nurses were scouring the place for the yellow strips, it was just me and my uncovered scar. Eventually I could look at it but touching it was another matter. As my release date approached, I knew I was going to have to get used to it and finally worked up the courage to touch the tip of it. Accepting it took even longer...it is still in process. I vowed that I was not going to spend my life trying hide it...that is kind of hard when you live in Texas and the summer are long and HOT. You get used to the stares and even the questions. One day while I was at a family get together, someone asked what happened. Tori (my adorable little cousin who told me jokes after my surgery), protectively told the little boy that I was in a bad wreck. It was so cute because she had this you don't ask people that look. Her tone said you definitely don't ask me that! She is my little protector! She and Nick worked really hard to have great jokes ready for me whenever they came to see me!
As everything started to come together, plans for my release went into high gear. There was a handicap accessible apartment right across from my old place...same exact floor plan. Even though I had an assigned parking space and no car, there was a handicap spot right in front of my door. The army of friends moved my stuff so, when the big day came, all I had to do was head home. This starts what I call the Kip part of my rehab.
Fortunately my wound care dr took very good care of it but I still didn't want to see it. Even though the dressing had to be changed every day, I made it a week or so without looking at it. The part of my thigh wear they harvested the skin was a different matter! It was now a huge scab and had healed to to point where it didn't hurt for air to touch it but pretty everything else was still bad. I left a trail of scabs wherever I went...sorry, I know that is gross. lol.
One day fate intervened and, what would turn into a daily ritual, forced me to get used to seeing my scar. Integra was in the process of being sold so things that were not needed a lot seemed to get overlooked when the orders were done. Apparently the medicated, vasoliney strips that were the first layer of my wound dressing just happened to be one of those items. While the nurses were scouring the place for the yellow strips, it was just me and my uncovered scar. Eventually I could look at it but touching it was another matter. As my release date approached, I knew I was going to have to get used to it and finally worked up the courage to touch the tip of it. Accepting it took even longer...it is still in process. I vowed that I was not going to spend my life trying hide it...that is kind of hard when you live in Texas and the summer are long and HOT. You get used to the stares and even the questions. One day while I was at a family get together, someone asked what happened. Tori (my adorable little cousin who told me jokes after my surgery), protectively told the little boy that I was in a bad wreck. It was so cute because she had this you don't ask people that look. Her tone said you definitely don't ask me that! She is my little protector! She and Nick worked really hard to have great jokes ready for me whenever they came to see me!
As everything started to come together, plans for my release went into high gear. There was a handicap accessible apartment right across from my old place...same exact floor plan. Even though I had an assigned parking space and no car, there was a handicap spot right in front of my door. The army of friends moved my stuff so, when the big day came, all I had to do was head home. This starts what I call the Kip part of my rehab.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Rehab revisited...
It has been way too long since my last blog. I think that is partly because a lot of the things I felt like I needed to get out of my system have already been said. Another reason is that reliving it every day takes a toll. Now I have had a break and received an amazing email from my favorite nurse at Scott and White, I am ready to start again. Traci made me realize that I have to finish my story, not so much for myself anymore, but for that one random person that might happen upon it and get some inspiration from it.
I rushed through most of the rehab story because it was so frustrating and I really didn't want to get into it but it is important so here we go.
Living in a rehab facility is really depressing...especially when you are the only one under the age of 70. I don't want to give the impression that Integra wasn't a great place or that the people there weren't amazing, but it is not a happy place to be. First of all, being back in Plano but not being able to go home was much harder than being in Temple. It was great to be able to see all of my friends that couldn't make the weekly 4 hour trip to Temple. As I got sicker of hospital food, someone was always bringing me fast food while Kip and Kristi brought me a home made meal every week. The medical staff joked about my room being standing room only on weekends and that was pretty much the truth. Those were the happy times.
The unhappy times where when I was forced to accept reality...I was not going to walk out of there and back into life as I knew it. Unlike the hospital where it was all about encouragement and getting better, rehab was facing the cold, hard fact that I would be going home with a walker and wheelchair and that my goal was to be able to walk with a walker (if I was very lucky, maybe a cane).
Like I said in the last blog, I started feeling really sorry for myself. I remember the day I decided I had to fight. I was sitting in my wheelchair, mad that they were making me sit up when they knew it hurt my tailbone to sit up. Even with oxycodone it hurt. I was also mad that everyone was starting to get tough with me (friends and family) and telling to get really mad and fight. What did they know? They didn't have their whole world destroyed! They didn't have to hop down a hall on one foot every freaking day! No one understood how bad it was but poor little me! Then it hit me like a ton of bricks...if I didn't stop sitting in that wheelchair thinking that I was the only one in the world that had been through anything this traumatic, I was going to sit in that wheelchair the rest of my life! I decided I was NOT going to live the rest of my life in a wheelchair no matter what it took!
Making that decision was not all it took of course. I had to stop thinking about how bad it was and think about how lucky I was. It could have been much, much worse. I also had to remember that there were millions of people that would give anything to be in as good a position as I was in! I had a choice of being in a wheelchair or walking, even it was in a walker. A lot of people don't have that choice. I was also very fortunate to have a good job with great benefits so, with some of the wreck insurance and some savings, paying my bills wasn't a problem and the hundreds of thousands of dollars of hospital bills were all being paid by my health insurance.
With my attitude adjusted, I started taking pride in getting dressed before my occupational therapist came to help me get dressed. I would try to make it at least two or three more hops when I thought I just couldn't go any farther. My only problem was that nagging pain in my right wrist.
Yes, as mentioned earlier, xrays showed it was broken in the accident (there was partial healing). All of the weight I was putting on it during my hopping expeditions had irritated the healing bone to the point that I has to go see my orthopedist to make sure the rehab x-rays were correct. At least this trip to the dr was in a handicap van and not an ambulance. I was still a couple of weeks away getting clearance to put some weight on my left leg but my physical therapist told me make sure I asked about moving that date up. Here I am, with a date to go home (referenced in the last blog), and now my wrist is broken and my orthopedist tells me that I can't put any weight on it for a few weeks. Something welled up inside of me and I told him NO! I had to have either my left leg or my wrist. He was taken aback but agreed to letting me put a little weight on my left leg!
The next day my walker got a crazy, raised arm rest to take the weight off my wrist, putting it on my forearm. I also got hit with the news that my release date might be delayed because I was going to have to learn to walk with the new contraption. This was not an option for me! I hopped the farthest I had ever hopped that morning and, in the afternoon, started actually walking with limited weight on my left leg! I was going home!
I rushed through most of the rehab story because it was so frustrating and I really didn't want to get into it but it is important so here we go.
Living in a rehab facility is really depressing...especially when you are the only one under the age of 70. I don't want to give the impression that Integra wasn't a great place or that the people there weren't amazing, but it is not a happy place to be. First of all, being back in Plano but not being able to go home was much harder than being in Temple. It was great to be able to see all of my friends that couldn't make the weekly 4 hour trip to Temple. As I got sicker of hospital food, someone was always bringing me fast food while Kip and Kristi brought me a home made meal every week. The medical staff joked about my room being standing room only on weekends and that was pretty much the truth. Those were the happy times.
The unhappy times where when I was forced to accept reality...I was not going to walk out of there and back into life as I knew it. Unlike the hospital where it was all about encouragement and getting better, rehab was facing the cold, hard fact that I would be going home with a walker and wheelchair and that my goal was to be able to walk with a walker (if I was very lucky, maybe a cane).
Like I said in the last blog, I started feeling really sorry for myself. I remember the day I decided I had to fight. I was sitting in my wheelchair, mad that they were making me sit up when they knew it hurt my tailbone to sit up. Even with oxycodone it hurt. I was also mad that everyone was starting to get tough with me (friends and family) and telling to get really mad and fight. What did they know? They didn't have their whole world destroyed! They didn't have to hop down a hall on one foot every freaking day! No one understood how bad it was but poor little me! Then it hit me like a ton of bricks...if I didn't stop sitting in that wheelchair thinking that I was the only one in the world that had been through anything this traumatic, I was going to sit in that wheelchair the rest of my life! I decided I was NOT going to live the rest of my life in a wheelchair no matter what it took!
Making that decision was not all it took of course. I had to stop thinking about how bad it was and think about how lucky I was. It could have been much, much worse. I also had to remember that there were millions of people that would give anything to be in as good a position as I was in! I had a choice of being in a wheelchair or walking, even it was in a walker. A lot of people don't have that choice. I was also very fortunate to have a good job with great benefits so, with some of the wreck insurance and some savings, paying my bills wasn't a problem and the hundreds of thousands of dollars of hospital bills were all being paid by my health insurance.
With my attitude adjusted, I started taking pride in getting dressed before my occupational therapist came to help me get dressed. I would try to make it at least two or three more hops when I thought I just couldn't go any farther. My only problem was that nagging pain in my right wrist.
Yes, as mentioned earlier, xrays showed it was broken in the accident (there was partial healing). All of the weight I was putting on it during my hopping expeditions had irritated the healing bone to the point that I has to go see my orthopedist to make sure the rehab x-rays were correct. At least this trip to the dr was in a handicap van and not an ambulance. I was still a couple of weeks away getting clearance to put some weight on my left leg but my physical therapist told me make sure I asked about moving that date up. Here I am, with a date to go home (referenced in the last blog), and now my wrist is broken and my orthopedist tells me that I can't put any weight on it for a few weeks. Something welled up inside of me and I told him NO! I had to have either my left leg or my wrist. He was taken aback but agreed to letting me put a little weight on my left leg!
The next day my walker got a crazy, raised arm rest to take the weight off my wrist, putting it on my forearm. I also got hit with the news that my release date might be delayed because I was going to have to learn to walk with the new contraption. This was not an option for me! I hopped the farthest I had ever hopped that morning and, in the afternoon, started actually walking with limited weight on my left leg! I was going home!
Sunday, August 15, 2010
When the list of what you can't do is longer that the list of what you can...
With all the breaks and new metal accessories I had, learning how to walk was expected. What wasn't expected was that I would have to work so hard to do just about everything. It took weeks to be able to push myself up out of the wheelchair. Getting dressed was daunting task, especially when we found out my right wrist had been fractured in the accident (I guess it wasn't that important compared to my other injuries at Scott and White). I can still remember how I felt when I reached each milestone...getting out of the wheelchair without help, putting in my socks, putting on my pants, standing without help, hopping one carpet square further, putting weight on my left leg and taking actual steps. Each thing was so simple yet I felt like I had won Olympic gold. Every week the doctors and therapists had meetings to discuss you progress and the person assigned to reporting to the insurance company came and read the findings to me. It sounded more like something a mother would write in a baby book...Peggy stood up my herself for the first time today. Ugh, I hated those reports! When I hit week 3 of therapy my doctors decided I was doing so well that I might get to go home in 5 weeks instead of 6. I had never really concentrated on my date to go home because it had been vague and I didn't want to be disappointed. Now I had a real date!! That was the good news, the bad news was that I was going to have to move because my apartment wasn't accessible for me. One hurdle always seems to lead to another.
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