By coincidence, my friend, Nancy, posted a report today on FB about the new arena being built in Lincoln, Nebraska which her husband is helping construct working on the high steel. I am happy for Lincoln and even happier that this is a union project. Nancy, Shane would be proud that the bridge I take to work every day is named in honour of his union brothers who perished during its construction, The Ironworkers Memorial Bridge.
Yesterday, I opened by speaking of focusing on two things. The first being the Notre Dame football game which turned out to be a disappointment but I was still happy for the team; they made all Irish fans proud for a remarkable season with only a small blemish on its record.
The other focal point of my day was making progress on the stairs. If you read my journal yesterday you would know I wasn’t too pleased with that either. I didn’t feel much more confident this morning when I found one of the physios on the floor was off sick.
I had another tantrum that began with the OT, bringing in what they called a heavy duty commode/shower chair that was huge. Any first year physics student could tell you that it was actually structurally less sound than the regular weight unit which by the way worked fine when I had my shower on Sunday. Ironically, it reminded me of the bridge collapse I was referring ti above. She made the error that they were just trying to be cautious and then went into the “if you lived on one floor” bullshit that I’d be out of here. It’s the stairs in your townhouse that are the problem. This is when I went ballistic. They weren’t even challenging me. How could they know if I can or cannot do stairs without even trying? I still want to talk to that idiot surgeon. If he doesn’t want to cooperate sign himself off the case and assign someone that knows something about patient care rather than just anatomy.
I even implied if something isn’t done soon, I would be walking out of here on my own because I would be getting the same treatment or more at home.
Well the squeaky wheel does get the grease. Sabina talked to the physio, Amanda, and because of it Amanda agreed to try me out on the shallow stair set they have in the outpatient clinic. Well, I tried it out with no problem up and down several times. She then asked me if I wanted to try the set of regular stairs today and I did and conquered those just as easily. The only problem I had was remembering rather than alternating feet I have to take one step at a time. Left leading going up and right leading going down.
The second physio session in the afternoon built upon this morning’s session doing more quad strengthening exercises and more stairs. We ignored the low stairs and went straight to the regular ones. Amanda did want to try walking without the braces but the idiot...er...I mean surgeon had specific instructions on the chart that the braces must be on when weight bearing and the effing clown is nowhere to be found.
One problem with the rehab unit is it is obviously meant as a stopping off place for elderly patients before moving to or back to an independent care facility and not really geared for relatively healthy people my age. Dale and I are the only patients under 80. Believe me there is nothing therapeutic about eating your meals with a room full of elderly sick people.
Joanne was my night again. And I had to laugh when she heard who my surgeon was and said “I met Dr. McConkey when I was working downstairs and I have to say I liked his father better.” She had worked with the senior McConkey at UBC Hospital. The elder surgeon started the UBC Sports Medicine Clinic along with Jack Taunton and Doug Clement. I have never met his father but I already like him better.
It was a standard finish to evening, a fist full of delicious pills, an orange, a chocolate goodie while watching the Big Bang Theory and Rachel Maddow.
To be continued...