On down, up and sideways

I have to write this entry before more stuff happens. 

On Wednesday morning, the Occupational Therapist discussed with me the draft of a planning document for my future. In it, there was a mention of the possibility that if my left leg was unable to bear weight above a certain amount after the operation, then I might be sent to another facility to recuperate before coming back here. The notion upset me rather badly as I felt it would a regression from my present relatively good condition. I also disliked the idea of leaving the Lindsay and its known qualities. Thankfully, my next session was with the psychologist.

Among the other things in the plan that I was able to take in was teaching me how to get back up if I fell out of the wheelchair or the walker. I hadn’t really thought about that issue, so it both scared and grounded me. Fate, in her fickle way, hammered home the sobering message that evening. While in my room, I heard a thud and then a call for help from my roommate who was in the toilet. After verifying that I had heard correctly, I buzzed for assistance, then went out into the corridor to accelerate the arrival of assistance. I kept out of the way. I was later informed that in transferring to the toilet, his leg had failed and he had gently fallen. No harm done, but he couldn’t get up again.

During physio on Wednesday afternoon, I pushed myself quite hard the replacement Physio worked my left ankle and knee. By the end of it, I had to rest on the physio bed for a quarter hour before getting back into the wheelchair.

On Thursday, I asked to try the stairs again. I did it three times. The first time, I used both handrails. The second time, the Physio suggested that I try using one handrail and a crutch under the other arm, to simulate using my stairs at home. This I did. Then I suggested trying what I thought of as the safe “emergency” technique of sitting on my bum and lifting with arms and fit leg. This went smoothly enough, however, I ran into a snag when I tried to get back into the wheelchair. I had pulled myself up to the handrail, but then couldn’t see how to maneuver myself into the wheelchair. I lowered myself back down before trying a different technique. A lot of my time is spent working on spatial maneuvering problems.

At the formal planning meeting in the afternoon, the Occupational Therapist rather wisely emphasized that my returning home was relatively close at hand after the operation. As in about two months or so. This was somewhat earlier than I had been thinking, but the pieces are there. There is a lot of work involved and a number of ifs. But there is light.

In the optimistic mood I left the meeting, I booked a medical taxi-van for today to take me to work. I didn’t tell anyone there, so I was a pleasant surprise when I rolled in. My co-workers were happy to see me. When one of them asked me why had I come, I half-joked that I needed an excuse to cry. I also did a small bit of work while I was there, giving my superior a document about how to catalog Children’s DVDs which would help her catalog DVDs for the adult population. While heading to my desk, I had a weird experience of seeing my ultra familiar workspace from a height of about four feet instead of just under six.

The Mole came by after lunch and we had a good chat. He is leaving for a deserved vacation in Mexico next Monday. Among other things, we made plans for videos calls via Facebook Messenger.