On questions to ask

Sometimes life is extremely frustrating, such as trying to deal with the SAAQ. At other times, answers just suggest themselves. Earlier today, I asked Caroline if she had any medical background. She said no, she was a dental hygienist by profession. To me this was near enough to a medical profession to suit my opinions, and let the matter lie.

This evening, I got an email from my dentist asking if I wanted to make an appointment. They had phoned back in the fall while I was still at the General. I at that time, I had explained that I was bedridden for the time being. Now, I might be able to go. However, dental beds are rather slippery to my mind, so I decided to ask Caroline her take on the matter, she having experience in the matter both as a dental professional and a person with wheelchair experience. She said not to worry about the chair, but rather about how much space there would be in the office to maneuver a wheelchair and/or a walker. It was good advice, and when I phone the place, I will include the questions in my enquiries.

On a new roommate

Well, that didn’t last long. 

This morning, some orderlies made the bed in the other part of the room. I took this a sign that a new tenant was coming. 

Later in the morning, my Physio popped her head in my room as I was doing some exercises (which made me look good) to say that I might come early to my session to get some extra time in. When I came back a little before lunch, the new patient had arrived. Her name is Caroline. She had lost her left foot in a car accident. She had had a prosthesis and had gone back home. However, she acquired a new and improved prosthesis which requires learning and training that couldn’t be provided at her home in Les Hautes Laurentides. In theory, she will only be here for a few weeks. She is much more talkative than M. Normand [X], as we have chatted much more in the few hours since she arrived than the weeks Normand was here.

Interestingly, she had suffered an injury and treatment not unlike the ones I received in New Brunswick. Her lower left leg was smashed and the doctors used a vein from her right leg to try to save her left. Unfortunately, there had been a greater delay between accident and hospital (as well as probably greater damage) than I had so that too much tissue had died and leg had to be amputated. She embarrassed me be knowing exactly which vein had been damaged in her case. 

From the way she talks to the staff, I get the impression she really knows exactly what is what, as well as exactly how to talk to them. Now that I think about it, I wonder if she is otherwise involved in medicine. Definitely not in orthopaedics as she talks too much.

On the departure of a second roommate

On Tuesday morning, I saw M. Normand [X] leave the room dressed to go outside with his wife. Around 12:30, they returned having eaten somewhere else. I left for therapy. When I came back, they weren’t in the room. I didn’t see any sign of him for a couple of days. Then on Thursday or Friday, some of the orderlies started gathering up his belongings into a pile. 

As I was preparing to shower this morning, I heard Mme Cécile [X]’s voice. I greeted her with a “How are you?” which she rightly interpreted as “How is Normand?” Not good, it seems. Without going into any particular detail, she said that a lot of things aren’t working for him so he is in a true hospital. Also, doctors had to operate on one of his kidneys. I wished her and, by extension, him good luck.

So, it seems I am without a roommate for a second time.

On being showered

I showered this morning. After being given the green light last Thursday, I had to wait until yesterday to have an occupational therapy session in which I could learn the procedures to carry out my ablutions safely and efficiently. 

This morning, under the supervision of an orderly, I experienced the great pleasure of hot water falling on my skin and to be able to scrub my hair. Bliss.

The last time I had a proper shower or bath was September 1st in Shediac.

On some bits of life in rehab

This entry is a collection of some short vignettes and random bits of life in the hospital.

About the first time I did my own laundry here, for some reason, I went into the elevator backwards rather than my more normal frontwards. Arriving at level 1, I got my small front wheels caught in the trough of elevator doors. My hands were occupied with the bag of laundry and the bottle of laundry detergent. A pair of maintenance men were in the corridor and asked me if I needed a hand. I said yes and handed one of them the bag of laundry to hold while I used my arms to extricate myself. They were a tad surprised.

There is an employee who works in gym I use. A significant part of her duties seem to be to disinfect the various exercise equipment after use by the patients. One day, I was using the Nu-Step machine which is across from her main work area when the sight of a clothes drying rack caught my attention. It seemed incongruous amongst the medical rehabilitation gear. I then saw the employee washing a large elastic band in disinfectant and carefully hanging it to dry on the rack. In hindsight, it made perfect sense. I chuckled aloud which caught the ear of the employee who mistook it for something being wrong. I explained my thought process which in turn both amused her and probably validated her work for her.

While I was getting my hair cut yesterday, the hairdresser asked what had happened to my leg. Before I could formulate my answer she added: “Was it a car accident? A bike accident?” I replied: “Both! I was riding a bike when I got hit by a car.”

On being shorn

In my last post, I left out the fact that the non-essential staff had a training day which meant that I had no therapy sessions. That is part of the reason I chose yesterday to visit the Library.

In the same wave of optimism that had me book that trip, I left a message on the hairdresser’s answering machine about getting my hair and beard trimmed. For various reasons, it turned out that today was the best day for both of us. So just after lunch, I went down to the hairdresser’s room and had my hair washed and trimmed. The beard was trimmed down to a more elegant length as well.

I hadn’t thought the effect was that noticeable, but when I returned to my room, Cécile, the wife of my roommate immediately noticed. She asked me where had I gone. I explained the arrangement and gave her the extension to call. It is my belief that she considers Normand is in need of tonsorial services.

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.

On walkering down the line

The Occupational Therapist has been getting me at 9 AM for the last two days. She has been drilling me in how to maneuver and do things using the walker. Yesterday, it was the kitchen. Today, we worked first in my room, before going to the gym. I used the walker in the elevator for the first time. That was an intro to using the walker on slightly uneven surfaces. She asked me if I wanted to have the walker in my room as an alternative to the wheelchair. I said I wasn’t sure, which pretty much meant, “No thank you!”

Today, my physio session was right after OT. The replacement physio worked on my left foot and ankle quite a bit. The muscles and tendons are rather atrophied or stiff.

I was pleased in having the afternoon off, as it allowed me to indulge in one the few pleasures available to me right now: a good long snooze after exercise. Bliss.

On my birthday weekend

Friday had to be the worst birthday of my life. First of all, the General phoned to move my appointment ahead from 1:15 to before noon, which meant transport wasn’t ready. 

At the General, I was sent to be x-rayed. I was waiting in the hall when the technician came by and asked if I was ready to have my femur x-rayed. I was a bit surprised by this and said “Are you sure it isn’t my tibia you mean?” I’m not a medical professional, but I was pretty sure it was my left tibia which needed x-raying. Before checking her computer, she asked for my name and date of birth. An older gentleman was listening to the exchange, as he then wished me happy birthday! The first to do so. 

Once my left tibia was x-rayed, I waited for a long time in the waiting room before being shown to an examination room where I waited for a long time. Dr. H. eventually came in and briefly examined my left leg and noted that the external wounds had healed to his satisfaction so that the long awaited operation could now be initiated. Of course the exact date was not revealed because of X, Y and Z. My only idea is probably the week after next. I tried to ask the questions the various professionals at the Gringras-Lindsay had wanted me to ask but only got vague replies. 

I then waited for a needlessly long time in order to fill out something that I didn’t really need to fill out. I did sign a document consenting to the operation.

Then it was a SNAFU-fest trying to arrange transport back to the Lindsay. I had lunch, then discovered the General’s boutique. I went into buy a thank you card for the people at the Fredericton hospital and a birthday card for Dominique. The sight of the assorted cards made me want to cry for some reason. I found a very good card for Dominique and a generic thank you card.

The driver back to the Lindsay spent most of the drive on the phone with someone in violation of the Montreal taxi-driver’s code of conduct. After we arrived, he got out of the mini-van and started chatting with a passing patient at the Lindsay whom he knew well. I was ready to scream. The driver then insisted on pushing me to the elevator and on pushing the elevator buttons. Wrongly as it turned out, as when the elevator doors opened again, I rolled out and went to my room only to find I was still on the same floor!

When I finally got back to my room, I buzzed for pain meds, then broke down in tears. The nurse came by with the goodies and began to debrief me on the trip. Danielle, the replacement physio also came by. It was a good conversation. I eventually went down to the gym where I first chatted with the occupational therapist, then tried to exercise out my frustrations on the Nu-step machine.

Supper proved to be a bland abomination which I simply could not bring myself to eat. So I ordered myself a pizza.

My brother Stephen phoned me to wish me happy birthday from Vancouver Airport on his way back to Victoria. Mr. Sensitivity “moasted” (a combination of moaned and boasted”) to me that he hadn’t been home this year, having spent New Year’s in Kitchener before going straight to New Orleans for a conference. I broke down in tears pointing out that while he had been home in December, I hadn’t been home since August!

Saturday was better. I ordered Indian food online to be picked up by a party from North Hatley, viz. Mummy, Pappy, Philip and Dominique. The Mole arrived before them. Eventually we sat down to the most delicious meal I have had since August. I inadvertently ordered a little bit too much, but it was good to the point that I was still tasting it in my burps at 11 PM despite supper, two snacks and brushing my teeth! Mummy made a particularly delicious Queen Elisabeth cake at my request.

Dominique’s birthday is only in a couple of weeks, but I politely insisted that she open her card in my presence. It went better than I hoped. The front of the card had a dachshund going “HappyHappyHappy” with the word “Birthday” inside. Having Maki the dachshund at home, my sister-in-law was very and emphatically overjoyed by it.

If the Mole has a flaw, it is that he is sometimes overly modest. He had quietly grumbled about how it took him an hour to get here from his home, which isn’t that surprising given that the trip involves first a bus, then two different metro lines followed by another bus. However, when my Mother offered to drop him off as his home wasn’t far off the route back to North Hatley, he was politely refusing. I decided to employ my power as the birthday boy to insist he take up the offer.

Afterwards, I went through the mail brought to me. It included a document from the SAAQ which allowed me to access my account with them and to finally be able to order a replacement driver’s licence. Only, I had to jump through some additional hoops to do so. I swear, the SAAQ is getting nearly as bad as the depictions of American Departments of Motor Vehicles.

That may have been why I had a vivid dream this morning. I was back at work and the place was quite busy. I trying to help a patron find out if we had any books on some software called “Turbo type”. The problem was that the Online Public Access Computers or (OPACs) had overly aggressive autofill settings so the words I was trying to type in kept on getting distorted. As well, the search software had changed and kept on changing while I worked. After shooing away some kittens, I went to the Reference desk to see if those computers would work better. They didn’t. While I struggled another patron with dyed black hair and a comb-over came seeking information about naval warfare strategy. I explained that he would have to wait as I was helping another patron and the other librarian was on the phone. He immediately left in an impatient huff. I later when downstairs and behind the scenes where I was confronted by the fact that the Library now had not one but two library cats. These were both large and fluffy. Just before I woke up, I commented that they were not so much cats as moving sweaters. Please note: the presence of cats is contrary to the Library’s policies and merely represents my subconscious anxieties.  

On stepping up in the World

Well, dear readers, yours truly just took some steps up in the world. This morning after using the regular walker to go a bit more the 50 meters around the gym non-stop (an achievement in itself), I went over to a set of stairs. After discussing the procedure with the physio, I grabbed the railings and slowly went up, right foot first and left foot trailing. At the top of the five steps, I hummed the Rocky theme and would have done a double air punch had I anywhere near enough confidence to let go with both hands. The physio and I had brief discussion about how royalty waves. I wasn’t sure how King Charles waves, but I enlightened Danielle about how the late Queen had used a “elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist, wrist” technique.

After lunch, the O.T. session was largely held in my room. I was asked to practice transit to the walker from my bed, the latter being set to various heights. I also transitioned from the walker to the toilet. While maneuvering with the walker around my room, I observed that it was odd to see the place from “on high”. As my more astute readers may deduce, the purpose of these exercises is to get me ready to started using the walker instead of the wheelchair to get around, with all the benefits and perils inherent in such a switch. What with a meeting with Ortho at the General tomorrow, I’m feeling a shade hopeful-nervous.

On communication, thoughts

During a session with the psychologist yesterday, we discussed some of my barriers to communication and my tendency to get tongue-tied. I told him of some of my worries about saying the wrong thing and more importantly not being understood. Part of that stems from having a family conversation code that has countless allusions to all kinds of things. 

In trying to explain that, I referred to an episode of Star Trek : the Next Generation in which Picard and the crew encounter a species that communicates by allusions. I referred to the episode as “Tanagra when the wall came down.” The psychologist is Trekkie to the point that he instantly got the reference. This made the process so much easier and yet illustrates the barrier I sometimes feel in trying to communicate. 

Of course, my desire to be precise also gets in the way. This came be seen as the episode was called “Darmok” and the repeated phrase that conveys the opening of communication was “Shaka, when the walls fell.”

On the theme of language, today, I was chatting with Danielle, my substitute physio, during a break. For no good reason, we talk in French. I mentioned that it seemed a little odd to be Daniel and Danielle, as in French the names are pronounced the same whereas in English they aren’t.* She hadn’t been aware of this.

*Unless the “Daniel” in question is francophone in which case the French pronunciation is sometimes used.

On some charges

I got in contact with the RCMP about the court case. It seems there was another request to delay entering in a plea. Now it will be the 8th of February if my memory serves. *Grumble*

However, I did find out what he was charged with:

-Failure to stop after accident causing bodily harm under sec. 320.16(2) of the Criminal Code.

-Dangerous operation of a motor vehicle causing bodily harm under sec. 320.13 (2) of the Criminal Code.

-Mischief under 5000$ under sec. 430 (4) of the Criminal Code.

On some changes

I apologize for having slacked off writing blog posts but I’ve been feeling a little down, partly because things were rather static. Some of that changed today.

A little before lunch, an orderly came by with a wheelchair looking for a Monsieur [X]. I knew of no such person and asked if he had the right room? It turns out he did and thus I had my first inkling that I was about to get a roommate. He arrived around lunchtime with a nurturing woman in tow presumably his significant other. He is Normand [X], a man in his seventies or so who reminds me of our family friend, Jean-Paul F.. I haven’t spoken much with him as for much of the day he has had string of medical visitors, etc.

My regular physio is off on vacation for the next two weeks, so I am now under the care of her replacement. This afternoon was our first session together and she used it partly to form her own evaluation of your humble correspondent. It was interesting in many respects as one of the first things she had me do was to try to put more weight on my left leg than I had been doing previously. Most intriguingly, she had me stand on a contraption consisting of two scales combined in a shallow platform which she placed between two parallel bars. With one foot on each, we could see just how much weight I was putting on either foot, though the left foot was the one that interested us. I had been cleared to put 50% of my weight on my left leg which works out to about 40 some kilos. I don’t know how much I had ever put on it, but I knew it was nowhere near 40 kilos. In fact, the most I achieved was a bit less than 30 kilos, the limiting factors being the soft tissues around my left ankle and knee.

She then asked if I wanted to try a regular walker as opposed to the “high” one I had been using. In my long-winded manner, I said that when I been feeling a bit down last week, I had thought about asking to try using a regular walker but hadn’t. Therefore, I would be quite happy to try the regular one. So she got me one and set it before me between two parallel bars. With some trepidation, I pushed myself up out of the wheelchair and onto the walker. I was going to say that it went like a charm except that it wasn’t magical. I walked fairly well with it to the point that my name has been written on it as it is to be “my” walker for the time being. My left arm is now presenting its protests and a bill for services rendered, viz. it now aches. 

On progress and its price

I wish I could absolutely tell myself that I am getting better. As in tell off my all my doubts and fears. I should know this, yet somehow the doubts creep back in.

In a way, I proved that I am getting better today as I went out to lunch with James and Normand. This involved travelling approximately 850 meters (selon Google Maps) to a burger joint on Côte des Neiges in the wheelchair. This was largely self-propelled with a little bit of assistance from James dealing with some obstacles crossing Van Horne. Coming back, I asked for a push for about 100 meters near the end. Of course, an orderly later told me off for not having first cleared the jaunt with my physio and my O.T. 

Last Thursday, I walked about 170 meters, including 50 meters in one go. However, there was a price to pay as during the O.T. session in the afternoon, while taking off the “boot” on my left foot, I swore “tabernak” when the Velcro straps caught on the gauze bandage for the umpteenth time. A little later in the session, the O.T. asked why I was “à fleur de peau”? I was definitely tired as it took me about of minute of thinking to formulate my response, which was what does “à fleur de peau” mean? To put the question into context, I have been reasonably fluent in French since 2nd grade but had never encountered the expression before. It seems it means being overreactive. From Google: “En son sens propre, l'expression « à fleur de peau » est une locution adverbiale qui désigne la surface de la peau. Dans le langage courant, c'est le sens figuré qui est davantage utilisé. Être à fleur de peau veut dire que la moindre sollicitation entraîne une réaction exacerbée chez la personne dont on parle.” I was then able to say that I was tired of Velcro catching on the bandage. I was also a bit tired from the morning’s work.

And of course, I was tired of still being in the condition that I still am. I still have a badly damaged leg, the same as I’ve had for four months now. I know I’m getting better, but I am so tired of the process.