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.