neyronrose (neyronrose) wrote,
neyronrose
neyronrose

Thursday day

The physical therapist -- this one named A. -- called to see if she could see me today.  I said I had two people coming and an afternoon appointment.  She said she'd come before the first person in the morning.  She came at 9-something, when I'd just finished breakfast and taking my various meds.  I did my exercises for her.  The home health aide came early, midway through the physical therapist's visit.  I was anxious to take my bath, and didn't want to keep the home health aide waiting, so I was really trying to speed through things.  I think I scared everyone but myself when I got up from the chair, spun, and started to take a step before I was fully upright.  They said I needed to slow down, to pivot in a way that didn't put that much torque on my good knee --  hop around rather than just swiveling from the torso and hip -- and not start walking until I was fully upright and aligned with the walker.  I'd caught myself before I did more than tip a little, so I wasn't concerned.

I got my bath, and got my hair washed again.  I hopped over to the recliner to put on the Ted stocking and my sock and shoe, since I can balance much better to bring my leg up in the recliner.  It's lower, and I can sink into it, so I can bring my good leg up and around.  The thing I was most concerned about was having the time to have a good bath and get my hair washed.

I had about an hour to relax, then the occupational therapist's assistant came.  She made much more sensible suggestions this time than she did yesterday.  I'm still supposed to be helping with whatever household tasks I can do sitting down, so I made the egg salad for our sandwiches.  They now know I can use an egg-slicer about as well as the average person.  We went into the living room, where Dad had brought my computer down and hooked it up.  I checked to see if I could access the Changeling server, which I could.  By this weekend, I should be back in business doing line edits.  It will feel great to be working again.  We figured out a way I could prop my foot up under the computer desk, so I should be good.

We had a quick lunch, then I had about another hour of downtime.  Mom went off to go swimming.  Dad went upstairs.  He knew he was supposed to take me out so we could get there by 3.  I called from my cell phone to the house phone at 2:20.  "I guess I'll stop what I'm doing and go take a part off the lawnmower," he said.  My reaction was: !?!  Fortunately, he took the lawnmower part off relatively quickly, then brought the wheelchair into the garage.  While he was doing whatever he was doing -- he went back to pick up all the things that had fallen out of his shirt pocket while he worked on the lawnmower -- I wheeled myself to the car.  The car door was unlocked, so I set the wheelchair brakes and got in.

We headed out.  "I think I'll go a different way," he said.  "I know [borough] pretty well."  He'd never been to this particular building.

"Why don't we go the way I know, then we can go whatever way you want to on the way back," I countered.  We actually got there at five of 3, and I got to the appointment on time.  He went a completely different route on the way back, but I didn't care, because there was nothing else today that I had to get done in any particular time frame.  His experimental way didn't take all that much longer.  I wasn't paying enough attention to be able to do it again, but I was tired by then.  When we got home, I took some painkillers, put ice on my ankle, and watched deepdarkmidnight's Chrolli kiss channel for a while.

Mom is going out to dinner.  She's trying to salvage at least a tiny bit of her ruined vacation.  Dad doesn't cook, and I can't reach the stove from the wheelchair.  I'm not about to try standing to cook.  Standing for me now involves me balancing on one foot and holding the other foot up, while needing to keep both hands on the walker handholds.  I know some people with walkers still cook, but I'm sure they are people who can bear weight on both feet.

On the way home, Dad and I got into a discussion of who in the family needed a therapist.  I thought everyone did.  He said he already had one, through the VA, but that he was "a busy guy."  He added, "I was thinking of going there for a walk-in visit this week."  I said he should have.  "But then I wouldn't have been able to get everything else done," he said.  I think anything that stabilizes whatever small amount of mental health he's got left is a top priority.

"You could go in Friday morning," I said.  "I think it's a great idea."

This week was Dad's vacation week, too, and he's been horribly bitchy and uncooperative, and saying "Sucks to be you," when Mom and I ask him to do something we can't.  He's always extremely passive-aggressive, but he's usually relatively even-tempered otherwise.  This week, he's been in a terrible mood.  He had some screed about everyone being demanding and bossing him around, acting like they knew what he should do when he knew how to do things.  I've been saying things like that he needs to set the brakes for the wheelchair before I go to transfer into it, and brace the kitchen chair that has wheels before I sit down in that.  I know what needs to be done for me to reduce my risk of falling again.  I'm just speaking from experience.

It's not like Dad wanted to go away for a week.  Mom and I were the ones who wanted to go to the shore.  He hates any trip that involves going more than a few miles from home.  While I was venting about Dad, someone asked me if I felt he was upset that I'd gotten injured, but couldn't articulate it.  "He doesn't seem at all upset about it, " I said.  Mom was bitterly resentful about having to take care of me that first week, and not being able to leave me alone for more than a few hours at a time.  She seems to be doing better now that the home health aides are coming in.  We both get a little stressed when the nurses show up two hours or more later than they said they would.  But I think Mom is realizing now that I'm doing the best I can, considering how incapacitated I temporarily am.

Tags: medical, rambling
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