It has taken me a while to write this entry. After an initial delay, more things kept on needed to added to it further slowing things. And then it sort of snowballed as things are wont to do.
The initial delay was caused by my disappointment with my room in Lindsay Pavilion of the Gingras-Lindsay. It is not really private only kinda, sorta private. It had been a larger room until it was subdivided into two ares by a wall largely made out of Corroplast with a sliding door. I date it Pandemic era. My “room” is the outer of the two which means traffic to the other room goes past me. I can get some privacy with some curtains, but it is not sound-proof either from either side.
The silver lining is the person with the better room. His name is Steve. He is an British-born Canadian and former rock musician. He is here after having a permanent prosthesis attachment point fitted to what remains of his right femur. His right leg was amputated about forty years ago. He explained that he’d used regular prostheses for many years but despite advances over the years, they had worn away at his stump as is apparently quite common with protheses.
This was something I need to hear. Why? I had been having “idées noires” about my lower left leg because of the pain it produces. Part of me was thinking that I would be upright sooner if I lost it or had lost it earlier in the healing process. I remember mentally waving goodbye to it in the ambulance from Moncton to Fredericton. Now I know that I am lucky to have my lower left leg, pain and all.
The staff here seem to be on the ball for the most part. And there are a lot of them. I don’t think I have met all the people who are on “my” team. A lot of Wednesday and Thursday was spent meeting them which meant getting poked, prodded, x-rayed and measured. A wheelchair was provided for me, though I didn’t get the opportunity to sit in it, much to my later regret.
Steve lives in Mission, B.C., which he presented as “I don’t know if you know where that is.” I did know where it was, and regaled him with how crossing the bridge there in 2009 had stressed me out. He then told me that the bridge is notorious for accidents including fatalities to the point that real estate is or was less expensive than it would otherwise be. The government had only installed a “k-rail” to divide the opposing streams of traffic after a large and bureaucratic number of deaths. I wish I had known that at the time as I would have used the narrow pedestrian part of the bridge despite the intruding vegetation.
I had an appointment at the General on Friday which went rather badly. After an early wake up and breakfast, it came out that my wheelchair wasn’t probably fitted for my left leg. Cue more than an hour of comings and goings as various people tried to sort things out. The eventual “solution” was that a folded up blanket was put between the footrest and my left leg which more or less hung in the air, partially supported by my hands. This was fair from ideal and deedless to say, we were late getting to the General which meant more waiting. I’d wanted to use the opportunity to pay to have my medical reports release to Human Resources at work but the correct place to do so proved elusive and the orderly accompanying wasn’t very familiar with the General nor very pro-active.
The only new development that came out from meeting Dr. Harvey was that the plan is that once the skin wounds have healed on my leg that I will be operated to have a plate inserted into my lower left leg and a bone graft fitted to my tibia.
Going home involved a long wait for my adapted transport. By the time I got back to my room, I was tired, frustrated, hungry and cold. I said to the orderly who accompanied me that I wanted to get back into bed. Her response was something like “Il n’y a pas de monde pour m’aider.” I found this an ineffectual answer and snapped back at her in an angry voice with: “Alors, trouve du monde!”
I was instantly filled with shame and remorse at my tone of voice. (I was subsequently also ashamed for using the second person singular rather than the second person plural.) I felt a surge of sadness and exhaustion overtake me. I think I apologized on the spot, but I am not sure. I really felt terrible for having snapped like that. I know I have spoken to a number of other staff members about this and they have said not to worry. However, I would like to make a written apology as I think it will make me feel better.
The silver lining from Friday is that I found it fairly easy to get myself into the wheelchair from the bed with someone to help with my left leg. I required a bit more assistance to get back into bed, though part of that was my exhausted state. I also got to propel myself which proved relatively easy, even with my weakened left arm.
No comments:
Post a Comment