Managing Boredom in Captivity

This weekend, I had the great privilege of having nothing on my schedule except meals. No PT. No OT. Just breakfast, lunch and dinner. My room is what feels like 80 degrees. So I sweat a lot. And I watched an entire season of Veronica Mars. And I thought that I was going to die either from heat or from boredom. But I survived, and today is less boring, but still just as hot. Unfortunately, this unit is occupied primarily by people who are more than two three times my age. One thing I know about old people is that old people are cold. Old people being cold means me (and my roommate) feel like we are in an oven. In the words of Devaughn, one of my summer Pittsburgh Project students, "I'm bout to bake myself" (except I'm being baked--and not in the "fun" sense of getting baked.

I'm getting close to getting out of here. Until then, I will bide my time doing things that may not be terribly productive. But hey, when am I going to have another time when heading into my third week off from work I am able to sit around, rest and do nothing? And because I've been off from work for so long, I probably won't be able to take time off from work for another three years...unless, of course I decide to break other parts of my body. Although it seems to be a very effective way to get some time off work, I would not recommend it.

seeking peace in the midst of uncertainty

Yesterday, I found out that I will be staying at Hararville until 11/9/10 when my ortho appointment is. Prior to obtaining this information, I was very worried that I would be discharged. After finding out I would stay, my anxiety peaked to uncomfortable levels. Why is it that the outcome that yesterday seemed to bring the most comfort now brings such unrest? I feel like a caged tiger...except that I do all of my pacing in my brain while laying in bed with my foot elevated. I think that physical pacing would be less exhausting at this point.

I was just handed my schedule for tomorrow, and I have no scheduled activities. This pretty much means that I will be spending the day writing, watching movies and drawing...I may take a nap. I do have visitors coming tomorrow, which gives me some hope. Otherwise, I am trying to strap myself in for an thrilling day of absolute boredom. This lack of activity used to feel amazing. Now...I'm about ready to take my wheelchair and roll myself home. I won't...because that's actually a really terrible idea.

So where is the peace in the middle of this unrest? I think it might be in the hour of PT I have in which I'm actually able to move my body. It's remembering the independence I've gained: strength, stability and the ability to safely transfer from the wheelchair to the bed/chair/toilet without assistance. It's remembering the phrase my mom always used to say to me at night, "Emilie...it will all look better in the morning." My mom was always right about this. I don't know how it works, but somehow...it always looks better in the morning.

I have peace that I will be able to go back to work. I have some anxiety that I'm not there and that I have been gone for two weeks, but I'm sure the transition back won't be nearly as complicated as I think it will be. It never is. So for tonight, I will breathe and remember that things will be better in the morning...because I know they will be.

Ode to Humility

To say that this situation has evoked the most humility might be a slight exaggeration, but only slight. Since September 23, 2010, I have had to ask other people for almost everything I need. I have fallen in attempts to get around. I have had clients help me when I would get stuck, drop something, try to shut the door, etc. Since being in the hospital I have had a catheter, had said catheter removed, used bedpans multiple times, been unable to finish dressing myself, had people (including men) get me on and off the toilet...help me pull up my pants. I have used a bedside commode. I have been unable to take a shower for about two weeks. I have people documenting every move I make and every bodily function that occurs or does not occur. I have zero privacy. Once I had a nurse forget that I could wipe myself and he attempted to wipe me after I used the bathroom.

And so, I have learned a lot about the concept and practice of humility. I still don't like it much, but it's getting easier to ask for what I need. It is easy, however once able to ask for what you need to forget what you can do by yourself, and this has definitely been my experience. For all I gripe about OT, I like it because Diane will say..."Ok, you need to get some foil." After I sit there for a minute and stare at her blankly, she says, "It's in that drawer over there." And suddenly I remember that I can get things for myself.

I hope that my experience carries over into my everyday life. I hope that I remember to ask for help when I need it, while being keenly aware of the things I can and should do independently. I hope that I become less afraid and ashamed when I need help, even when the help I need isn't comfortable. And, I hope that the next time I want time off from work, I use a slightly less elaborate method. I'll be honest. This whole injury requiring surgery thing is not very fun.

Another 5 Days

I had my meeting today and it turns out that I'm officially on the Transitional Care Unit for five more days. I'm hoping after my ortho appointment on Tuesday I will 1.) be able to use crutches and 2.) be able to move into more intensive rehab.

Currently, my worst symptom is boredom. Now that the pain is mostly gone, I can focus on how unoccupied I am. I spend two hours a day in therapy: one hour in Occupational Therapy and one hour in Physical Therapy. Physical Therapy is challenging. Occupational Therapy is challenging, too...however I find it somewhat frustrating that making banana bread is challenging, though. And I also find it funny that I'm allowed to use an oven, but not allowed to take a shower.

Yesterday I was sitting across from a very funny man in OT. He had just worked with an OT to fill out his menu for the following day. We were listening to music and "Margaritaville" came on the radio. He looked at me and said, "Where do we find those on the menu?" Also, today in Recreation Therapy (which I did not attend) they had "Happy Hour". This included fruit punch and fresh veggies. I'm all about the fresh veggies, but I'll be honest, alcohol or not, my idea of Happy Hour does not involve people twice my age.

I'm sure that tomorrow will bring more adventures. I certainly hope so.

Tears and Recreation Therapy

Implied in the title "Recreation Therapy" is that there will be an element of fun. I was unable to find anything "fun" about sitting around a table with women in their 70's or older, a very rude recreational therapist and playing a game of Outburst. I'm going to be honest, when speaking about elderly people, I do not recommend using the word "outburst"--ever. Just sayin'. Well, the recreation therapist was making the "buzzer noise" when the elderly ladies would give a wrong answer (i.e. would name a fruit instead of a vegetable). I found this to be extremely inappropriate. And furthermore...personally I did not find it to be therapeutic...and I don't think anyone else did either. (May I also just say that the recreation therapist attempted to do an evaluation with me this morning when I was half comatose with a migraine. I love her intuition.)

As for tears: I have been asking for a while to make a lateral move from one pain medication to another. The two medications are used interchangeably, but one has worked for me in the past, and the other has not. Today, I was in immense pain. I am still struggling with surgery pain and also dealing with stretching out a contracture in my left leg because I was not wearing my boot enough. Needless to say, the pain was a 9/10 and I was on the verge of tears. So, the nurses decided that because I was "very upset" that they should send in the psychiatrist. (This is what I used to have to do when I worked in the hospital..."fix" people who were crying.) The psychiatrist said, "That's all you need?", and promptly wrote the order to switch me from the med I was on to the med I requested.

So the questions I have for today are: Why would you choose a career in recreation therapy if you are not that interested in whether or not other people are having fun? I guess as long as YOU'RE having fun...that's all that matters. And: Why does it take a psych consult to get a pain medication changed, when a simple call to the attending would have had the same result? Because here in the field of medicine, we like to make everything as complicated as humanly possible. Carry on, then...fantastic job.

Things I could do two months ago.

Gather round, children and hear my lesson for today. I cannot do the things that I did two months ago. Today in Occupational Therapy, with my OT Diane (who is wonderful) I did laundry and made a bed. Now...the humor here is that I rarely make my bed at home. Still, I was a good patient and did not argue...much. I was doing okay--rolling from one side of the bed to the other--pulling at and tucking in sheets. I had a "grabber" for assistance. All was well...until I dropped the grabber. "Ok...how am I going to grab the grabber?" I thought to myself. No worries. I will just reach down and get it, since that is what I will have to do once I am home. This just happened to be one of my "fantastic" and somewhat impulsive ideas that resulted in nearly spilling me from my wheelchair onto the floor. Once again--I am awesome.

"What do I do, Diane, when I drop the grabber?" I asked. "You call me! I will get it for you!" Diane replied...with just a slight edge of frustration in her voice.

I'm finding myself very frustrated that I cannot do many of the simple things I was able to do before I was injured. I have a similar experience when my ADHD medication wears off and I am unable to organize myself the way I could have two hours before. Being fiercely independent is not working to my advantage in this situation and makes me wonder how I'm going to be safe when I return home. I suppose that the simple solution would be to just not make my bed! Crisis averted...for now.

Deaf and Dumb

Apparently, being confined to a wheelchair instantly makes you hard of hearing and stupid. I learned this as I have had instructions given to me by someone who uses their "outside voice" rather than their "inside voice". Additionally, the instructions are stated simply and slowly. Granted, I am currently residing in what closely resembles a nursing home. This morning I had occupational therapy with a group of women who were (at least) in their mid-late 70's. I also understand that some persons who are elderly happen to be hard of hearing. Must we shout to everyone? I submit that this is unnecessary.

I suppose this begs the question, what will I do when (and I'm sure they will) someone shouts at me. Suggestions? I could cry and tell him/her to stop yelling at me or ask them why they are so angry. I could shout back--especially if I shout slowly and use very simple language. My favorite option would be to say nothing for a few seconds, and then say, "What? I didn't hear you." Perhaps I shall. And rest assured, I will post the reactions post haste.

People...use your inside voices...even when you think people can't hear. Save the shouting for the Steeler's games...and shouting at the Pirates when they play a lousy game (warning: you may lose your voice!). People in wheelchairs are typically not deaf...or dumb...even the old people.