“She’s
the ‘bilateral’,” I heard the nurse mention to the aide that entered the room
with her.
I turned my head towards the door and moved my bed up with the cool electronic device that
enables you to remain motionless for as long as you want. Considering the fact that my body felt
like it had rolled down a mountain at full speed bouncing off of every rock and
boulder it encountered, that was precisely what I wanted.
It
had been three days since both of my total knee replacements, and the most I had done
myself was howl each time I was helped in and out of the wheelchair. The powers that be insist you go to the
bathroom “yourself” after having both knees completely rebuilt. (Because surely it doesn’t hurt THAT
much.)
I
had been moved to the rehab facility the night before, and was pretty convinced
that I would never, EVER walk again, let alone slide out of a bed.
The
nurse, however, was convinced otherwise.
“Let’s
go! Time for PT!” she said with a smile as she pushed the wheelchair towards
the bed. I looked at her thinking
she was out of her mind and then willed my legs to slide towards the side of
the bed.
They
didn’t listen.
I
forced my bed to the upright-est position I could and then grabbed my legs and
gently pushed them over. “Sweet
Jesus in heaven” I muttered.
I would say far worse things than that before the days PT session was over.
I
was wheeled down the hall where I met a lovely and energetic young girl about
Bitchy’s age. (Except she was a lot NICER.) She explained who
she was and what our goals were. I
smiled and tried to make light, humorous conversation. It wasn’t easy. She excused herself for a few moments
to attend to several other “clients” who were working on various pieces of
equipment around the room.
I
took that time to take in my surroundings. I had been wheeled into what looked like a high school
gymnasium. The walls were filled with inspirational quotes written in larger
than life print. The room itself
was filled with short “massage” tables, designed for patients to lay on while practiced certain exercises. In one
corner there were more than 50 walkers of all shape and size, as well as
wheelchairs and other walking aides.
There were other tables peppered around the room for patients working on
activities designed for hand-eye coordination and fine motor skill
practice. There were many other
torture devices around the room, but I was distracted by the clients I saw
moving to and fro around the room engaged in their own journey back from the
dead. From what I could see, I was
almost the youngest in the room. I
noticed a young man who appeared in his twenties with what looked like a severe
head injury working very hard to pedal something with his arms. I looked away, trying hard not drown in
the sea of emotion these sights had thrust me into. If I looked too closely at
all of the struggles, I wouldn’t have the strength to face my own.
My
therapist joined me with a walker.
I looked at her and laughed.
“Really? You want me to get UP?”
“That’s
right. Your rehab begins NOW,
lady!” she said smiling, but with just enough of a challenge for this ex-gymnast
to accept.
I
grabbed the walker and forced myself up. "Holy Mother of GOD!" I said through clenched teeth. I looked at her and then put one foot in front of the other. I slowly made
my way around the room. It seemed like an eternity, but it might have been ten minutes. She showed
me a few exercises we would be working on, and after a very painful hour she
wheeled me back to my room.
“You
were great. We’ll see you three or
four times a day, and you’ll do better each time. Don’t get discouraged! Baby steps here; you’ll make baby steps
each day.”
She
managed to help me into my bed and got me comfortable. It wasn’t until she turned and walked
out of the room that I closed my eyes and let the tears flow.
This
wasn’t gonna be easy.
But,
unlike many of the “clients” I had encountered that morning, I knew I WAS going
to get better. I knew I WAS going
to stand on my own, I knew I WAS going to shower on my own, and soon I knew I
WAS going to walk out of here.
It
was just a matter of kicking my own @$$.
But I think I’ve had a lot of practice in that area….
