Post by sasha on Nov 8, 2022 16:18:53 GMT -5
Nov 3, 2022 - I fall asleep after Gail's final checkup, and awaken around 7:00. I stoke up on a hunter's breakfast - then a pair of physical therapists load me into a wheelchair for a ride to the 5th floor gym for some OT (geting in/out of a car/bathtub, ascending/descending a short flight of stairs, etc.) - flying colors (it's all review from last year anyway). Some consultations with members of the team, then - Honorable Discharge!
One last wheelchair ride, this time to the lobby - a short wait by the entrance until Becky pulls up in her car - I clump the walker outside to the curb and into the car - we stop by the pharmacy for a new regimen of drugs - then...
Home.
Doubts: Can I do this? Can I make this journey again? Getting into & out of bed by myself, onto and off of the toilet by myself? Can I wipe? Shower? Can I learn to do my home PT unassisted? Can I fetch my glasses, fix my coffee & fill my mug, make my bed, perform all those homely rituals of life that an old bachelor is accustomed to doing?
Four days later: YES. I can. I do. I will. The journey back is well underway, but it's not until the Home Healthcare guy swaps my walker for a cane, and Beck & I make our first foray to the mailbox & back that the magnitude of this miracle hits me again. There are no tears this time - the surprise isn't that it has happened, but that it is happening AGAIN - that the first miracle was not a fluke. But there were lessons learned: This time I will not overdo the exercises - I will not risk injuring myself like I did last time, trying too hard - though I will contine to imbue them with the sanctity of the religious rites that they are. I do not wish to spend my remaining years as an invalid, and I will not. I accept that I have probably climbed Mount Monadnock for the last time - and that's OK. I accept that I am on the cusp of being an Old Man, but that shall not deter me from the rail trails, or my beloved Birch Hill WMA. I have merely taken a hiatus from them, which will make my return all the sweeter. And I accept that I am at the beginning of the journey; I am not back yet.
And the operative word here is - Yet.
Onward...
One last wheelchair ride, this time to the lobby - a short wait by the entrance until Becky pulls up in her car - I clump the walker outside to the curb and into the car - we stop by the pharmacy for a new regimen of drugs - then...
Home.
Doubts: Can I do this? Can I make this journey again? Getting into & out of bed by myself, onto and off of the toilet by myself? Can I wipe? Shower? Can I learn to do my home PT unassisted? Can I fetch my glasses, fix my coffee & fill my mug, make my bed, perform all those homely rituals of life that an old bachelor is accustomed to doing?
Four days later: YES. I can. I do. I will. The journey back is well underway, but it's not until the Home Healthcare guy swaps my walker for a cane, and Beck & I make our first foray to the mailbox & back that the magnitude of this miracle hits me again. There are no tears this time - the surprise isn't that it has happened, but that it is happening AGAIN - that the first miracle was not a fluke. But there were lessons learned: This time I will not overdo the exercises - I will not risk injuring myself like I did last time, trying too hard - though I will contine to imbue them with the sanctity of the religious rites that they are. I do not wish to spend my remaining years as an invalid, and I will not. I accept that I have probably climbed Mount Monadnock for the last time - and that's OK. I accept that I am on the cusp of being an Old Man, but that shall not deter me from the rail trails, or my beloved Birch Hill WMA. I have merely taken a hiatus from them, which will make my return all the sweeter. And I accept that I am at the beginning of the journey; I am not back yet.
And the operative word here is - Yet.
Onward...