Yesterday I transferred from Surreyplace to St. John’s rehabilitation hospital. St. John’s is a mainstream rehab hospital and is better equipped to deal with my situation. Now that I am allowed active leg movements the therapy will get more intense. To be honest I am not looking forward to longer and more painful sessions. Yes, I am a complete girly man when it comes to searing pain! I will have a better idea of what’s in store for me after tomorrow.
Whatever happens in therapy they will not be waking me up at 4:30 am to draw blood! You can imagine my delight at being roused from a crappy nights sleep, (try sleeping in python tight leg braces), and then being poked by a zealous staff vampire that took singular delight in telling me this little suck would be a daily ritual. Whoa cowboy: there had better be really good medical reasons for waking me up!
Half an hour later another nurse came in and tried to make me take a stomach lining pill. People it’s 5:00 am I am not going to start pointless drugs at such an hour. Then, shortly after refusing the stomach pill another nurse was back to administer an EKG. Clearly sleep was not on the agenda.
I’ve been told all these tests were part of a baseline workup and that I will not be subjected to many of them tomorrow. The vampire will have to suck elsewhere.
I went through the same thing at St. Luke’s and Surreyplace. I don’t want to train hospital staff in the delicate art of me maintenance but it appears unavoidable.
Rehab has taught me that I really don’t like pain! I wish I could report that I am a tough guy; that I can happily take a beating and then ask for more. Alas, that’s not me. I’ve always considered the downside of stupid stunts and, with a few notable lapses of judgement, managed to avoid the self-inflicted injuries of my peers.
I’ve been more of, “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” than a, “no pain no gain,” guy. Most of the time this is sensible but when you are going through rehab the opposite holds. When your torturers, (therapists), insist on bending your broken body this way and that way, over and over again, I can assure you it’s not pain-free.
Of course there is an upside. You do improve and things get better. Today I “walked” twenty-five meters in my braces using a walker. It was a post accident record. Every day the distance and time will increase and in no time I hope to be hiking again. Walking: it’s not overrated.
It’s coming up on three weeks since I fell and ripped my quadriceps. I am now cleared for passive, gravity assisted, flexing of my knees. This morning I managed a seventy-five degree bend. I would like to reach a full ninety degrees before the end of the week. I suspect my days of greater than ninety degrees are done. The next step is to get up in a walker. I hope this is sooner rather than later. Moving my butt from bed to wheelchair and back is wearing thin. I honestly don’t know how some of the elderly residents here stand it. Unlike myself many of them will be in wheelchairs until they die. Getting old isn’t for pussies!
I’m not the only one “suffering” from my freaky fall. My poor wife is working hard bringing me meals, (hospital food did not impress her) and pitching in with everyday invalid care. She really is the best wife in the world.
I wish I could say the same about my insurance companies. Today we mailed my application for short-term disability. I will qualify; mine is a classic total temporary disability. They cannot deny coverage without facing a slam-dunk lawsuit but they will be able to impose inflexible rules.
For example, when I am on disability I cannot work and if I work, even a few hours per day, I cannot collect disability. If I had Wi-Fi and my office laptop I could put in a few remote hours even now but I cannot manage a full schedule. I expect I will end up putting in unpaid remote hours unless that is also forbidden. I cannot be out of circulation for long or my little walk in the park might end in unemployment.