Home Sweet Home
You would think with my incarceration at home I would have tons of time to get caught up with my story. Sorry that I am still behind. I’ll see what I can do…
Finally! I get to go home. As we only own a minivan and an SUV we had my brother bring his car to pick me up from the hospital. It was a fairly easy transition to get from the chair into the car using the transfer board. I was still whacked out on the percoset and just barely made it home with everything still inside where it should be. Since my husband had the ramps built he navigated me up and inside the house. Kevin promptly wheeled me into his office where he set up a bed. I think he expected me to get in and stay there for the next 6 weeks! Now I’ve just been in bed for the last 3 days and there is no way I’m getting in there! (at least not right away). The look on Kevin’s face was asking “what the heck am I going to do with you then?”. He toured me around the house and showed me the furniture and carpets he moved to make room for my new wheels. After that I had to admit that I was still dizzy and nauseous from the drugs and had to go lie down.
The first full day home was probably the most stressful of all. Kevin is now looking after three and I was probably the most needy of all. The kids were constantly fighting that day. I spent most of my time in my new bedroom listening to the screaming, whining, and crying and not able to do anything about it. When I had to use the facilities, I had to get Kevin to assist me by transferring onto the comode outside the bathroom and then he had to push me over the toilet. This was probably his (and mine) breaking point. He said I was 40 years too early for this to be happening and I rightly agreed. He had just come from upstairs and I am sure he had been holding his head in his hands ready to breakdown. Something had to change and I was resolved to be able to get onto that damn toilet myself. So we removed the leg supports from the wheelchair and carefully maneuvered it and around through the narrow doorway and up to the toilet at an angle. We removed the side piece to the chair and used the transfer board to slide on. It worked! The triumph on my face and the relief on Kevin’s was unparalleled. Who said it couldn’t be done?! Kevin then immediately said he was off to the bookstore. The kids and I managed fine. They are 8 and 6 and terrific little helpers. If there is one thing that may be gained from this is that those kids will definitely become more self-reliant. Kyle answered the phone while Kendra answered the door and they both were willing to fetch anything I asked of them. It was nice to be home.
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Cheryl, please keep catching up — it’s a great story!
And it’s great that you’re already starting to appreciate the Little Victories along the way. I think that attitude — and a sense of humour in general — are pretty key to winning the Mental Game, right up there with a loving and patient support network. (Go, Kevin!)
I don’t know if your Doc is going to get you into exercise and PT fast — e.g., at 2 weeks post-op like bit.ly/UWOProtocol , or maybe even a smidge sooner — but you still will probably be around 4 weeks post-op before you start walking on two (booted) feet. Hey, wait, I just checked your “ATR Timeline”, and you’re at 4 weeks post-op NOW!! (Are we there yet?)
For most of us one-sided ATR folks, that milestone — putting down the crutches and picking up the coffee cup or WHATEVER! — is probably the single biggest “Yippee!” on the whole voyage! Yup, I’d say it’s even bigger than getting into 2 shoes, getting back on a bicycle, or getting back to the sport that “did you in”!!
But for you, who will probably move straight (or quickly) from a wheelchair to walking on two feet, . . . it sounds like Yippee squared!!