I have just heard that I will be moved on Wednesday morning to the Gringras-Lindsay Rehabilitation Centre. This is unexpectedly quick but not so quick as what was thought earlier when it was believed that it would be tomorrow.
The name of new place makes me think of some of the bilingual businesses in Sherbrooke of old such as O’Boyle and Duplessis appliance repairs.
It seems that at least one of my readers failed to understand my implied decision about moving to a new facility. The answer was “Yes!” but owing to my nature and the fact that no immediate decision was necessary, I only formally said “Yes, please” to the transfer the next day.
I have heard good things about the Gingras-Lindsay Institute from multiple independent sources. Furthermore, Michael (God bless him) asked Victoria the physio a question that I had been wondering about but didn’t want to ask for fear of being seen as petty, namely would I have a private room? The answer is yes owing to the nature of the Institute’s work.
When will I be moving? I don’t know. I am the first person in line, but I will have to wait for the person before me to leave which I gather is soon. Whether that means days or weeks, I don’t know, but I do know it isn’t months.
Apparently, when my case was being evaluated when I was back at the General, my athleticism prior to the accident was a distinct point in my favour. Many of the orderlies and nurses have also commented on how I was in such good shape before the accident.
I have trouble with this. I was distinctly overweight at over 220 pounds. In the last year, I went to the gym more often to take a shower after biking to work than to lift weights. I was relatively fit compared to the average Canadian and had powerful thighs from decades of biking. However, the biking was due largely from a combination of being too intellectually lazy to buy a car and having a privileged station in life that made biking touring accessible.
I don’t feel like I was a real athlete. I was just lucky.
On Tuesday, I happened to be in the wheelchair when Victoria arrived for physical therapy. Therefore, she took me down to one of the physio rooms to measure me for proper wheelchair. She also gave me some weights and a wrist exerciser. One of the other physio patients was a man of sixty or more wearing an AC/DC T-shirt!
There wasn’t an ideal wheelchair, but Victoria and another woman contrived something that should have been suitable. They attempted to get me to sit in it and in the process stand for a bit by bringing a walker up to my chair and helping me lift myself into a standing position with the bulk of my weight on my right leg. Unfortunately, my left leg wasn’t ready for it and the slight weight I put on it sent shooting pain up my leg and I had to sit down immediately.
On Wednesday, Victoria tried having me stand with a walker from the edge of my bed with her assistance and that of another orderly. She put a book under my left foot to reduce the weight put on it. The first attempt ended in pain and fright. It was decided that we needed the services of Alberto who is over six feet tall and that I needed a painkiller. This took about an hour or so as Alberto was on lunch. Third time lucky, and I stood for a period that was long enough for Alberto to make comments about whether he was taller than me. My guess is fifteen seconds.
Today, I took the painkiller before the physio session and with the assistance of Victoria and a sturdy orderly, I stood, mostly from my own strength for about thirty seconds as timed by Michael. I was offered the opportunity to try again, but I was quite exhausted
Later in the afternoon, my turn with the hairdresser came up. I was put in the chair and taken down the basement for a haircut and beard trim by a very nice and sympathetic lady.
After a frustrating weekend of waiting, came a frustrating morning of waiting in an uncomfortable wheelchair for an appointment about a suspected allergy to a certain class of antibiotics that probably could have been done remotely. The only thing that I actually did there was sign a form. Also, it meant I didn’t get a physio session today.
While I was waiting, I received a PDF of the police report regarding the collision. To start with, the form shows the reality of traffic collisions in New Brunswick as there is a box to tick off if a moose was involved. (I am not going to muddy the waters by asking the RCMP to change the report given my identification with moose. ;-) ). From the address of the driver, I was able to use Google Maps to see that he lives in a trailer home. I was further able to determine that public transport doesn’t serve the trailer park. I sincerely hope his license is permanently revoked.
I did see my physio who had a lot to discuss with me. Most notably, she wanted to discuss me moving to the Institut de réadaptation Gingras-Lindsay-de-Montréal. She said it has a very good reputation and an integrated team of specialists. I had been already been accepted while I was at the General pending my ability to put weight on my leg. She said it was my decision whether or not to go. My answer was: “My feelings are 90% yes! The other 10% say sleep on the decision.”
When I will go there depends on whether they held a slot open for me. It sounds very complete, both physical and psychological services being offered while there and afterwards.
Well, I went to the General today to see a Doctor Harvey. While the meeting took place in the Othopedics section, he must have been borrowed from another department for several reasons. The first is that he actually made an appearance and didn’t delegate the job to an acolyte. The second is that he was interested in the status of my soft tissues rather than my bones. The third reason is that he communicated.
Almost too much so, as I am a bit ambivalent though happy about the revelations. I am now cleared to put weight on my right leg and left arm. He prescribed me “Canadian crutches” for part of the relearning to walk process. He wants me to start using a proper wheelchair. He has put an end to me being given blood thinners and wants my leg wounds to be left undressed. He put an end to the “boot” on my left foot which had probably been a bad idea in the first place. I think there were some more changes made but I getting a bit overwhelmed and the conversation was a bit strange as it was in a combination of English and French, the latter being for the benefit of Alberto who is Colombian of Italian extraction.
Did I say overwhelmed? Yes, I did as I was also relieved that there was no attempt to remove my leg fixations “cold”, i.e. without drugs. It also interested me that one possible path to healing does not involve a slightly ghoulish operation I shudder to think about.
I am also a bit stunned after so much rather static time to have things move so quickly. I am also worried about how well Dr. Harvey’s instructions have been communicated to the CH Champlain.
So yes, a certain ambivalence and anxiety which given that it is me I am writing about, is to be expected.
One of the things I am looking forward to in the short term include that once I am settled into a proper wheelchair, I might be allowed to take Adapted Transport to go shopping.
Victoria the Physio is away this week on a well deserved vacation. Frédérique, her replacement, is also very good. She is possibly better than Victoria or maybe more vicious ( :-) ) as I feel like I’ve worked harder after one of her sessions. She surprised me this afternoon after having me raise my extended arms from the side to over my head, each with an object in hand (iPhone on the left, water bottle on the right). This was to strengthen my arms. Afterwards, she asked if any harm had been done to my right shoulder. I said that my right collarbone had been broken twice many years ago. She said she noticed it wasn’t moving wholly correctly and that would explain it.
An email from a colleague made me realize that I haven’t discussed something in this blog, namely the prognosis. One of the few things I have got out of Ortho is that I will be walking and biking. They seem very confident in that. Unfortunately, one of them also told me back in September, don’t make any vacation plans for a year.
I know I have a long road ahead of me. I am an impatient person. I am also scared of failure. I think I have been avoid writing about the prognosis as I don’t want to raise my hopes too high.
Right now, I feel tender and fragile both physically and emotionally. While my body grows stronger, my legs keep having minor spasms that are quietly painful reminders. When I watch some TV shows on my iPad, I tense up at scenes of violence. Conversely, a puppy video made me reach for Pooh Bear.
I wish I had something more interesting and uplifting to say than I am scheduled to get flu and COVID vaccines tomorrow. Actually, there was an amusing bit to that in that a nurse was taking my information in advance on Friday. Among the questions was had I had any blood transfusions in the last year? I pointed to my left leg and say: “Yes, several.”
November is my least favourite month. Despite some pictures of a co-worker’s baby, I’ve been down. I’ve been having crying jags precipitated by small things. I have my Pooh Bear to hug. Friday was a two Bear day. Despite, Philip and Dominique coming, I have had recourse to the Bear today.
I’ve had to fend off Mummy’s attempts to have Philip and Dominique bring Maki into see me. While I would like to meet Maki, here is not the place or time. Maki is a very young dog of an active breed. He hasn’t experienced many places. I haven’t met Maki and Maki hasn’t met me. What is more, my anxiety sometimes upsets dogs of a certain nature and temperament. I don’t want Philip and Dominique to go to all the effort of bringing Maki here in a strange environment and having him take a nervous dislike to me. It would just be too sad. Dominique said Mummy had been working on her as well.
Here’s to hoping tomorrow will be a better day.
The Parents came in yesterday bearing, among other things, a moose stuffie in a red and black check hoodie from Margaret. It bears the logo of Moose Mobility, which, as it turns out is a firm that deals in mobility scooters. At a certain level, that is unfortunate. However, the plushie is very cute.
In other news, it snowed significantly this morning.
The beautiful yellow-leaved tree across from my room took a bit of a beating last night. The branches are starting to becoming visible. Still, ‘tis the season to shed.
In response to my previous entry Margo wrote as follows: “You are the [g]ung ho person who coined the term “whee factor” to describe the sensation of the wind in one’s hair when cycling at speed. Maybe you should shout “wheeeee!” while you’re being lifted and swung into your wheelchair?”
There is fair bit of stuff to unpack there. The first of which is that I had thought that it had been Margo who coined the term “whee factor”. Maybe it was a joint effort, I expressed the idea and Margo came up with the name.
The second thing is that the “whee factor” is when you are comfortable, in control and there is nothing to worry about. You go “whee!” when you are going down a long straight hill with a clear run out and a good surface. You don’t use the expression going down a twisty trail, strewn with rock and roots and no idea where or how the hill is going to end and whether your brakes will last. That is the flip side of the “whee factor”, which I am going to dub the “aiee factor”, as in “Aiee! I am going to die!” Or even just “Aiee! I really don’t like this!”
I am not comfortable in the sling: the position is awkward and cramped. Neither do I feel in control even when I have the crane control as my legs have to be held by one person as another person guides me in or out of the chair. Between major damage and atrophied muscles my legs are both rather heavy (to me) and intolerant of being mishandled. I doubt I will be using the sling long enough to feel truly comfortable with it.
In other news, during my physio session with Victoria this afternoon, it was a good thing the ortho doctor wasn’t there as she was very annoyed at the virtually complete lack of information about last Friday’s events conveyed by the General to her. Until I mentioned it, she hadn’t known that they had taken X-rays of my pelvis and left leg. She really wants to know if the pelvis is now able to bear weight as that will mean a change in my physio regime. It may also mean a change in local as I might be transferred to a more intense rehab place which it seems may be keeping a place open for me. Had the ortho doctor been there, there may have been bloodshed. ;-)
During today’s chair time, I asked to be placed so I looked up the street, as opposed to my more usual down the street. The PA commented that the houses made the street look like Privet Drive from Harry Potter, being all built to the same general specification by the same builder. While quite recently built by my standards, they did have a quality that put me in mind of the song “Little boxes” by Malvina Reynolds, as sung by Pete Seeger. The conformity is heightened by the fact that I can see that three of the houses having snow removal signs from the same company.
I also remembered that I could access Louise and John’s family photo albums. I spent the best part of an hour OD’ing on the antics of Arthur, Ruby and Tessa. There was one video of Tessa that really impressed me. She had made it the top of a climbing wall. To get down, she pushed herself away from the wall and let the automatic safety rope lower her safely to the ground. Not much you say? Except that she did it arms and legs splayed wide with no obvious signs of anxiety! I’m nervous as anything when I get hoisted up by the crane between bed and chair.
One of the pleasures of my current room is this bright yellow tree. My iPhone camera doesn’t do it justice.
Oddly enough, it reminds me of an incident on a bus ride I took in England almost exactly 7 years ago. I was on my way to Bromyard for John Fox’s funeral. I thought the older lady across the aisle had dropped a bus schedule and pointed it out to her. She said it wasn’t hers, but that broke the ice and she told me she was on the bus in order to enjoy the seasonal colours of the leaves. Being from Quebec, I hadn’t noticed any, but politely held my tongue.
I woke up early today which was unfortunate as I’d gone to sleep late. However, it was necessary as I had an early appointment with Ortho at the General. Alberto accompanied me in the CIUSSS van. After a few minutes waiting at Ortho, I was rolled off to be X-rayed in my hips and left leg. But first, there was a longish wait in a corridor. Then some radiology guys inexpertly transferred me from the wheelchair to the scanning bed. Afterwards, they reversed the process.
Then it was back to Ortho, another wait at reception before going into an examination room for another long wait. Then a junior Ortho doctor who the Mole thinks is from Saudi Arabia. After examining my pin sites and asking a few questions, he announced he would be removing my hips fixations. There in the examination room. Apparently, it was a matter of unbolting the cross piece and unscrewing the pins going into my pelvis. Without a painkiller or sedative.
The first part was fairly trivial. The second was harder, but only occasionally moderately painful. The second pin proved harder than the first. The doctor said that one had been put in in Fredericton whereas the previous one had been put in Montreal. This was a bit of a surprise to me as I hadn’t known that Montreal had put in pins. Then again, I was pretty loopy on drugs and trauma in my first weeks in Montreal. (Also, Ortho is terrible at communication.) Afterwards, he spent a long time clean and dressing my lower left leg.
It was about two when I got back into the van. The driver hadn’t quite tied down the wheelchair firmly enough, so there was a disconcerting bit of slack which made the ride something to be endured. It was especially long as we went to Point Saint-Charles to pick up another patient before dropping him at the Verdun Hospital, before heading back to the CH Champlain.
I was very glad to get back into bed. I let go and cried and cried, hugging Pooh Bear to my chest. There had been so much tension built up that I couldn’t help myself. One the PAs tried to comfort me saying that I’d just passed a milestone. I knew that, but at the same time I had to cry. Better out than in.
I have been weighed. This involved first weighing the wheelchair without me in it. I was then put in the chair. There was a twist to this as Alberto handed me the crane control so I was in charge of the up, down and side to side. I was a bit hesitant and probably over cautious in my use of the device. Then it was off down the hall to a scale. There was a bit of contretemps when Alberto read the numbers off the scale then subtracted them from his earlier reading. This gave a weight that was clearly wrong as it was something like 240. He then rechecked the scale and changed the units to kgs. Then his math gave me a weight of 84.4 kg, which made sense.
My approximate weight before the collision was about 100 kgs, which was a bit too much. I had known I had lost weight, my pictures show it. Subtracting 1.4 kg for fixations and the boot on my left leg, I must weigh about 83 kg, which translates as 183 lbs. This is good, bad and scary. Good, as I had been overweight up until two months ago. Bad, as a fair bit of the weight loss is muscle mass. Scary, as it represents losing about a sixth of my body weight.
Two months to the day since I was hit by the car. Two months of downs and ups which have included traumatic dreams, the odd hallucination, waking up and not being sure I was truly awake or alive. Of being comforted by family, friends and kind patient attendants. Of small but significant milestones left behind.
After being weighed, I went back to my room. An hour or two later, Mummy and the Mole appeared together. Mummy had parked her car in Brossard and biked over the Samuel-de-Champlain bridge, despite the cold but clear November weather. She insisted I photograph the rain spats she’d been wearing against the wind.
After exchanging news, I was bundled up into polar fleece, Gor-Tex and a borrowed tuque and mittens for a trip outside. It was a treat to smell the cold November air. It was suggested that I go further afield, but I am still nervous in the chair in motion. It rolls somewhat unpredictably and the Mole was not wholly confident in his ability to steer it. While we enjoyed the fresh air, a surprising number of wheelchair adapted taxis came and went. At one point, there were three in a row.
