My life suddenly took off and I am still playing catch up. My husband got a new job. It pays more. Still not what we really need, but more than he's making now with plenty of room for advancement. Plus, you pay less for benefits and they are *much* better. My deductible is going down to only $500 a year. We are only going to be w/o insurance for about 30 days. Guess who is *not* scheduling doctor's appointments or therapy sessions for a month or so?
So we are packing and cleaning like mad men. We have to be moved in about 2 weeks. You wanna see a woman scurry? Tell her she has to get an entire household ready to move about 1.5 hours away in less than a month while still doing her normal cleaning, cooking and toddler wrangling.
Oh, so we have a couch we got back in '05. It got some stains from milk and juice from tiny visitors that I have tried in vain to get out without much success. I got a couch cushion clean today! A bowl of steaming hot water and Oxy Clean. A lot of it. Seriously, the water was white. I scrubbed and scrubbed then used a hair dryer so it dried right. Also, if you have a light colored carpet and super stubborn stains you can pour hydrogen peroxide on it. Let it soak a minute or ten then scrub. It works. I've been doing it for a while on stains cleaners just don't get up. Just the hydrogen peroxide from the first aid isle.
We have been having some funky weather changes. My sinuses have been going mad. This equals worse headache and dizziness than normal. I keep my house cold to help. Not freezing, but definitely on the cooler side. Or if it isn't too hot/humid/muggy outside, an open window does wonders.
Do you ever get headaches at the base of your skull? Take a washcloth, wet it, stick it in the freezer. Leave it in there until it is frozen but still mold able. Wrap it around the back of your neck close to the base of your skull.
Tension headache? Put your hands in your hair letting it catch between your fingers. Gently pull up on the roots of your hair. You want to pull on the skin enough to lift it up some, but not to hurt yourself.
My son's birthday is next month. His party is already being planned. I can't wait to post pictures!!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Cleaning
Is my house always spotless? Of course. Bwahaha! I couldn't keep a straight face for that one. Yesterday I was feeling pretty bad. Which means I got nothing done. Which means today is going to be really hard. The next on my list is the kitchen. My dishes are overflowing right now. I hate doing dishes. I will probably not conquer them for another hour or two. Why? I just cleaned the front room. I picked up toys, trash and vacuumed. I am tired, hurting, huffing and puffing like I just ran a marathon. I am also extremely hot and sweating.
I recently got my hair cut. Was it a must have? In my mind, yes. I hadn't had it cut it over a year. When my hair goes to long without being cut the ends get itchy. My hair is also really, really thick. In Louisiana humidity this is not fun. I usually have it thinned when I get it cut. Plus, the hair that was growing back from where it had been shaved for my surgery was significantly shorter than the rest. It had become just long enough to stick straight out to the side like Bozo the Clown's but not quite long enough to put in a ponytail. I also refused to be tamed by clips.
In all my infinate wisdom, I had my hair chopped off. The cut looks good, mind you. I also got my bangs cut it a way that I can keep them over my left eye. It has seriously cut down on stares. It is just now to short to put up. Still long enough to cling to my neck when I'm hot and sweaty. Note to self: stop cutting too short to pull back.
Wasn't this post tittled cleaning? How many of you actually expected me to stay on topic? You should know better by now. Really.
I have laundry to do. Clothes and diapers. But see, we live in an apartment. We do not have a washer and dryer in said apartment. I can not get said laundry and toddler out to where washer and dryer are. So we have to wait for the poor husband to have time. I love the man, he tries so hard.
And yes, I did say diapers as part of my laundry. We cloth diaper. While the part about doing good for the enviroment makes me feel good. I even like the part about saving money. Heck, I love the part about saving money. My son has seemed to inherit my super sensitive skin. Meaning, he developed an allergic reaction to disposable diapers and wipes. It took us a little while, but now that we have the hang of cloth we wouldn't use anything else. I mean, get this. We can use the diapers we have now for the next baby. That's a lot of money saved. I may even be moved to do a post on cloth diapers at some point.
My biggest cleaning frustration is trash. I can not take it out and it is often difficult to get my husband to do so. It kind of goes like this:
Day 1:
Me: "Babe, don't forget to take out the trash."
Him: "Okay. In a few minutes."
The next morning, he leaves for work and I still have trash.
Day 2:
Me: "Baby, the trash really needs to go out."
Him: "All right. In a few minutes."
About half an hour or so goes by.
Me: "Baby, don't forget about the trash."
Him: "I know. I said I'd get it in a few minutes."
Me: "It's been 30, dear."
Him: "I'll get it."
This goes on for the rest of the evening. Something about me nagging gets entered in there somewhere. At which point I remind him he does have a tendancy to forget. Finally, as wee are about to go to bed...
Me: "Did you remember to take out the trash?"
Him: "Crap. But it's dark and cold outside."
Me: "It wasn't when I asked you to do it the first time."
At this point it usually gets taken out first thing the next morning. Now my husband is not lazy by any means. He works hard to support a family of three. He helps out with household chores and with our son. He tries his best to be there for me. I love him a lot and honestly couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else.
I recently got my hair cut. Was it a must have? In my mind, yes. I hadn't had it cut it over a year. When my hair goes to long without being cut the ends get itchy. My hair is also really, really thick. In Louisiana humidity this is not fun. I usually have it thinned when I get it cut. Plus, the hair that was growing back from where it had been shaved for my surgery was significantly shorter than the rest. It had become just long enough to stick straight out to the side like Bozo the Clown's but not quite long enough to put in a ponytail. I also refused to be tamed by clips.
In all my infinate wisdom, I had my hair chopped off. The cut looks good, mind you. I also got my bangs cut it a way that I can keep them over my left eye. It has seriously cut down on stares. It is just now to short to put up. Still long enough to cling to my neck when I'm hot and sweaty. Note to self: stop cutting too short to pull back.
Wasn't this post tittled cleaning? How many of you actually expected me to stay on topic? You should know better by now. Really.
I have laundry to do. Clothes and diapers. But see, we live in an apartment. We do not have a washer and dryer in said apartment. I can not get said laundry and toddler out to where washer and dryer are. So we have to wait for the poor husband to have time. I love the man, he tries so hard.
And yes, I did say diapers as part of my laundry. We cloth diaper. While the part about doing good for the enviroment makes me feel good. I even like the part about saving money. Heck, I love the part about saving money. My son has seemed to inherit my super sensitive skin. Meaning, he developed an allergic reaction to disposable diapers and wipes. It took us a little while, but now that we have the hang of cloth we wouldn't use anything else. I mean, get this. We can use the diapers we have now for the next baby. That's a lot of money saved. I may even be moved to do a post on cloth diapers at some point.
My biggest cleaning frustration is trash. I can not take it out and it is often difficult to get my husband to do so. It kind of goes like this:
Day 1:
Me: "Babe, don't forget to take out the trash."
Him: "Okay. In a few minutes."
The next morning, he leaves for work and I still have trash.
Day 2:
Me: "Baby, the trash really needs to go out."
Him: "All right. In a few minutes."
About half an hour or so goes by.
Me: "Baby, don't forget about the trash."
Him: "I know. I said I'd get it in a few minutes."
Me: "It's been 30, dear."
Him: "I'll get it."
This goes on for the rest of the evening. Something about me nagging gets entered in there somewhere. At which point I remind him he does have a tendancy to forget. Finally, as wee are about to go to bed...
Me: "Did you remember to take out the trash?"
Him: "Crap. But it's dark and cold outside."
Me: "It wasn't when I asked you to do it the first time."
At this point it usually gets taken out first thing the next morning. Now my husband is not lazy by any means. He works hard to support a family of three. He helps out with household chores and with our son. He tries his best to be there for me. I love him a lot and honestly couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Marriage
I said before I would do a post about the effects this has had on my marriage. I'm not going to lie, both my husband and I did each other wrong.
When I had my surgery, my husband had only been in his new position for a few months. He was a store manager and working hard. He took the day of my surgery and a day or two after off. That was it. I don't remember for sure because I don't remember that time. Was I hurt by this? You bet. The whole time I was in the hospital, he only came to visit twice a week. I was 1.5 hours away so I accepted it. What I didn't accept was him spending most of the time on the phone with work.
When I came home, my dad helped with my son and me. My husband worked 70+ hours a week. I grew more and more angry and bitter. I tried talking to him but all he said was that he had to. For the money. Everyone says it's all about the money. I do understand money is important. But I felt like that job meant more to him than me.
So I started picking fights and yelling. So mature of me, wasn't it? I spent a month at my mom's with Gabe in August. It really was just a vacation. My mother had just won her battle with breast cancer and I hadn't seen her since it begun over a year ago. During that time, I missed my husband like crazy.
I got home and the fighting started. My dad left soon after this point and I was along taking care of a toddler most of the time. I had a really bad day. One where I could barely move because I was so dizzy and my head throbbed. I asked my husband if he could take a personal day off. His reply was that this is not what sick days were meant for and to find someone else. I sobbed.
I yelled at him over everything. I was so mad and he either wasn't listening or didn't understand. Or worse, both. I began to feel alone, abandoned and unloved by my best friend. I don't know exactly what he felt, but not good. There was a plan for me to take Gabe back to my mother's after Christmas. We had talked about custody, visitation, child support... About a week after the decision was made, I broke down crying at the thought of not having him here anymore. We talked and he listened. I also went to counseling to help me learn how to deal with things in a less destructive way.
We don't fight anymore. Not really. They are just heated discussions now. No more yelling and screaming. I'm also on Prozac. I had fallen into depression without realizing it.
There's more but I don't remember. I don't want to. I'm happy the year is over and I have no problem leaving it in the past.
When I had my surgery, my husband had only been in his new position for a few months. He was a store manager and working hard. He took the day of my surgery and a day or two after off. That was it. I don't remember for sure because I don't remember that time. Was I hurt by this? You bet. The whole time I was in the hospital, he only came to visit twice a week. I was 1.5 hours away so I accepted it. What I didn't accept was him spending most of the time on the phone with work.
When I came home, my dad helped with my son and me. My husband worked 70+ hours a week. I grew more and more angry and bitter. I tried talking to him but all he said was that he had to. For the money. Everyone says it's all about the money. I do understand money is important. But I felt like that job meant more to him than me.
So I started picking fights and yelling. So mature of me, wasn't it? I spent a month at my mom's with Gabe in August. It really was just a vacation. My mother had just won her battle with breast cancer and I hadn't seen her since it begun over a year ago. During that time, I missed my husband like crazy.
I got home and the fighting started. My dad left soon after this point and I was along taking care of a toddler most of the time. I had a really bad day. One where I could barely move because I was so dizzy and my head throbbed. I asked my husband if he could take a personal day off. His reply was that this is not what sick days were meant for and to find someone else. I sobbed.
I yelled at him over everything. I was so mad and he either wasn't listening or didn't understand. Or worse, both. I began to feel alone, abandoned and unloved by my best friend. I don't know exactly what he felt, but not good. There was a plan for me to take Gabe back to my mother's after Christmas. We had talked about custody, visitation, child support... About a week after the decision was made, I broke down crying at the thought of not having him here anymore. We talked and he listened. I also went to counseling to help me learn how to deal with things in a less destructive way.
We don't fight anymore. Not really. They are just heated discussions now. No more yelling and screaming. I'm also on Prozac. I had fallen into depression without realizing it.
There's more but I don't remember. I don't want to. I'm happy the year is over and I have no problem leaving it in the past.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
How I do it
One day at a time. One task at a time. Because I have to. That is the simple answer. I saw a quote online months ago. I have no idea who it is originally from.
"There is always going to be someone behind you telling you that you can't. The important thing is to turn around and say 'watch me'".
I try to live by this. When people tell me I can't do something, I take it as a personal challenge to find a way to do it. Better than them if I can pull it off.
"There is always going to be someone behind you telling you that you can't. The important thing is to turn around and say 'watch me'".
I try to live by this. When people tell me I can't do something, I take it as a personal challenge to find a way to do it. Better than them if I can pull it off.
Some days I feel useless
Really, I do. Take days like today. Today is a bad day. My head is in a fog. It is also feeling heavy. Not hurting, just heavy. I feel sick to my stomach. This is a day I will do the bare minimum. I will not pick up toys. I will not do dishes. I will do nothing but change diapers and fix my son lunch. If my husband is not home in time, I will fix dinner. If he still isn't home I will put him to bed without a bath. It is one of those days. I feel physically weak. I have no energy. I feel emotionally week. Today is one of the days I am reminded of my limitations. This puts me in a bit of a funk. I am going to stay in my sweats. Every muscle in my body feels shaky when I stand, so I will be doing so as little as possible. I will be short of breath easily.
On these days my husband will come home from work. He will make dinner, give our son a bath and put him to bed if he is home in time. He will pick up the toys. He will do the dishes. He will take care of me.
The only thing that comforts me is that my bad days are becoming fewer and farther between.
On these days my husband will come home from work. He will make dinner, give our son a bath and put him to bed if he is home in time. He will pick up the toys. He will do the dishes. He will take care of me.
The only thing that comforts me is that my bad days are becoming fewer and farther between.
Friday, January 8, 2010
You become a child again
I am trying to make this post without whining. I have been whining far too much in this blog and I fully intend to stop.
When you go through something like I have, something that alters your reality and abilities, you become a child again in the eyes of others. What I mean is decisions are made for you. I have an idea of what my toddler feels like. I want to do things myself. There are things I still struggle with and things I am very capable of doing.
When your toddler is doing something that you think they may find a bit difficult, you tend to step in and do it for them if they ask or not. Yeah. I stopped stepping in unless I see him getting frustrated or he asks. Sometimes it takes your toddler longer than it would you. But letting them figure out is an important part of developing motor and problem solving skills.
Same goes for me right now. I have had to re-learn a lot of things. How to brush my hair, ties my shoes, change diapers, cook... a lot of things. Some things I have had to find a new way of doing. Humans are adaptable. This is what makes us survivors. I don't have to find different ways of doing things because of my disability; I do things in spite off it. Okay, I do have to find different ways because of it, but you get my point. I can even show people a more simple way of doing things. I have had to simplify things in my life. Lesson? Stop doing everything for me and maybe we will both learn something.
And we have also re-visited the teenage years. You know? The one where it is decided if you will be okay to go somewhere or do something for you? Or whether or not it can be afforded for you? I hated these years the first time around. I really freaking despise them now. I have held down a full time job while maintaining a marriage, keeping a home and raising a child. I don't have a full time job anymore, but the others have gotten much more difficult. You could imagine the kind of strain this all puts on a marriage. I'll post that another time. My sex life will not be involved or open for question.
I get up between 6-7 am every day. Give or take 45 minutes. It all depends on the smallest being in the house, of course. My husband is always home for breakfast because the earliest his job will ever require he go in is ten. So because he loves me and is made of win, he makes breakfast every day. It's edible and usually pretty darn tasty, too! From then my day goes one of two ways:
Scenario one: My husband of win works from 10-7. Which means he is gone from 9:30-8. So he makes breakfast and leaves at 9:30. So I am chasing after a toddler and trying to get my house cleaned up. I mostly focus on our front room (living/dining) and kitchen. Trust me, this is enough. In the winter I only need to vacuum once a day. Spring, summer and some days in fall I need to vacuum 2,3,4+ times a day for allergies. I need a better vacuum and this exhausts me. I do 2 loads of dishes a day (I do not believe in using paper products for convenience). I handle 2-3 snack times, lunch and dinner. I try to make our meals as balanced as possible. When I slack on this, my husband and I lose precious energy and my toddler gets cranky. I bath and bed time. I collapse on the couch or in my papasan chair (which the husband of win bought me as a present this year) and ache. Sometimes I spend my evenings on www.diaperswappers.com . I highly recommend this site to anyone interested in cloth diapering. Most of the time the ladies on this board are very, very helpful. I read. I watch Hulu. I am currently revisiting a favorite series from my childhood called Major Dad. I am also learning how to knit. Scarves are evil.
Scenario two: My husband closes. He works 5pm-11 or 12 depending on the night. Which means he is gone from 4:14 -12 or 1. These days are easier and harder at the same time. My husband is here to help so we get things like the bathroom done. The trash gets taken out. We run errands. Running around for errands is sometimes more exhausting than my day in scenario one. The rest of the day is similar to above. I just get a little help so my body is not crying "STRIKE!" at the end of the day.
Scenario three: It happens once a week and it's my favorite. My husband's day off. We do our grocery shopping on this day. We try to take Gabe outside. Poor baby needs it. I need it. Scenario one is still the base formation for our day.
Now in all of this, I squeeze in one physical therapy appointment a week; random slews of doctors appointments ranging from 15 minutes to 1.5 hours away and 30 minutes to 3 hours in length; visits to the in-laws who live 3 hours away or friends who live over an hour away.
I manage all of this even if I have a headache. After this past year migraine has a new definition for me. I can deal with most headaches and my cabinets always have a couple of bottles of different types of headache relievers in it. I pop a pill or two and go. I deal with the aches. I will push myself until I physically can not move anymore. Why? Because I have standards for my home. I refuse to let this thing mess up my life more than it already has or more than I absolutely have to.
As for deciding if I can afford it or not? If all we did with our money was pay doctors and bills, we'd really be depressed. I can't always go. I can't always say the money would be better used for fun. But I do wish people would leave it up to me to decide if the individual circumstance is one worth my money or not.
When you go through something like I have, something that alters your reality and abilities, you become a child again in the eyes of others. What I mean is decisions are made for you. I have an idea of what my toddler feels like. I want to do things myself. There are things I still struggle with and things I am very capable of doing.
When your toddler is doing something that you think they may find a bit difficult, you tend to step in and do it for them if they ask or not. Yeah. I stopped stepping in unless I see him getting frustrated or he asks. Sometimes it takes your toddler longer than it would you. But letting them figure out is an important part of developing motor and problem solving skills.
Same goes for me right now. I have had to re-learn a lot of things. How to brush my hair, ties my shoes, change diapers, cook... a lot of things. Some things I have had to find a new way of doing. Humans are adaptable. This is what makes us survivors. I don't have to find different ways of doing things because of my disability; I do things in spite off it. Okay, I do have to find different ways because of it, but you get my point. I can even show people a more simple way of doing things. I have had to simplify things in my life. Lesson? Stop doing everything for me and maybe we will both learn something.
And we have also re-visited the teenage years. You know? The one where it is decided if you will be okay to go somewhere or do something for you? Or whether or not it can be afforded for you? I hated these years the first time around. I really freaking despise them now. I have held down a full time job while maintaining a marriage, keeping a home and raising a child. I don't have a full time job anymore, but the others have gotten much more difficult. You could imagine the kind of strain this all puts on a marriage. I'll post that another time. My sex life will not be involved or open for question.
I get up between 6-7 am every day. Give or take 45 minutes. It all depends on the smallest being in the house, of course. My husband is always home for breakfast because the earliest his job will ever require he go in is ten. So because he loves me and is made of win, he makes breakfast every day. It's edible and usually pretty darn tasty, too! From then my day goes one of two ways:
Scenario one: My husband of win works from 10-7. Which means he is gone from 9:30-8. So he makes breakfast and leaves at 9:30. So I am chasing after a toddler and trying to get my house cleaned up. I mostly focus on our front room (living/dining) and kitchen. Trust me, this is enough. In the winter I only need to vacuum once a day. Spring, summer and some days in fall I need to vacuum 2,3,4+ times a day for allergies. I need a better vacuum and this exhausts me. I do 2 loads of dishes a day (I do not believe in using paper products for convenience). I handle 2-3 snack times, lunch and dinner. I try to make our meals as balanced as possible. When I slack on this, my husband and I lose precious energy and my toddler gets cranky. I bath and bed time. I collapse on the couch or in my papasan chair (which the husband of win bought me as a present this year) and ache. Sometimes I spend my evenings on www.diaperswappers.com . I highly recommend this site to anyone interested in cloth diapering. Most of the time the ladies on this board are very, very helpful. I read. I watch Hulu. I am currently revisiting a favorite series from my childhood called Major Dad. I am also learning how to knit. Scarves are evil.
Scenario two: My husband closes. He works 5pm-11 or 12 depending on the night. Which means he is gone from 4:14 -12 or 1. These days are easier and harder at the same time. My husband is here to help so we get things like the bathroom done. The trash gets taken out. We run errands. Running around for errands is sometimes more exhausting than my day in scenario one. The rest of the day is similar to above. I just get a little help so my body is not crying "STRIKE!" at the end of the day.
Scenario three: It happens once a week and it's my favorite. My husband's day off. We do our grocery shopping on this day. We try to take Gabe outside. Poor baby needs it. I need it. Scenario one is still the base formation for our day.
Now in all of this, I squeeze in one physical therapy appointment a week; random slews of doctors appointments ranging from 15 minutes to 1.5 hours away and 30 minutes to 3 hours in length; visits to the in-laws who live 3 hours away or friends who live over an hour away.
I manage all of this even if I have a headache. After this past year migraine has a new definition for me. I can deal with most headaches and my cabinets always have a couple of bottles of different types of headache relievers in it. I pop a pill or two and go. I deal with the aches. I will push myself until I physically can not move anymore. Why? Because I have standards for my home. I refuse to let this thing mess up my life more than it already has or more than I absolutely have to.
As for deciding if I can afford it or not? If all we did with our money was pay doctors and bills, we'd really be depressed. I can't always go. I can't always say the money would be better used for fun. But I do wish people would leave it up to me to decide if the individual circumstance is one worth my money or not.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Back to the story
I have gotten so caught up in now, I forgot about my story. I think I left off with the tube and the numbness and a major case of the cranks.
So after what I think was only 3 or 4 days, I was moved to rehab. I will give you a varying number of days each time you ask. Anywhere from 3 to anytime less than a week. Why? Because I have a very vague idea myself. People told me...I think. Funny thing is that now even my husband is not 100% sure.
I remember very few things. There were the nurses I tortured. They started it. The poking and prodding. There was a TV in my room. I remember being upset because I couldn't see or hear it. My vision was messed up bad and I had not yet adjusted to my single sided deafness. Ended up not mattering anyway. Aside from that one moment of frustration with it, I never even noticed it. I guess I slept a lot. There was also a speech therapist that came in my room. She had to check to see what kind of diet I could be on. I almost choked on ice. I was on puree.
I was on the rehab floor a couple of days before I started therapy. I started three kinds:
Physical - Self explanitory, I think. Walking, balancing, strength, etc...
Speech - Speech and facial muscles. I had been left with partial facial paralysis. It's almost gone, now. But I learned how to talk clearly and eat safely. Yeah. When you're numb on part of your face and it includes half your mouth...I bit my tongue a lot. It is not numb. I swear I have permanently pierced it. I still can't chew on that side.
Occupational - This is hand control and everyday activities. Brushing your teeth, hair, getting yourself dressed and tying your shoes. I had figured this stuff out with my left hand pretty quick. Of course, it was not numb. It was the right hand she pushed me to use. Good thing.
There were a small group of physical therapists. A few annoyed me to no ends. This one was nothing but pure sunshine. Looking back, she helped. The sunshine part could have flown the coop, but she was a good therapist. I had one therapist for a couple of weeks. But she left to take a job back at her hometown. Don't blame her. But at this point I really, really hate change. I got used to my next therapist and I like her. When my son came to visit, he'd try to follow her around. Now I had one therapist most of the time but every now and then I'd have another. This one was practical. She helped me figure out how to get up and down off the floor; pick up my son at least while sitting; and change a diaper. I liked her. Sometimes physical therapy hurt. I almost fell a few times while walking, but they are very careful not to let it happen.
There were two speech therapists. A student doing her clinics and the actual therapist. I liked the student better. She didn't talk to me like the other patients. See, at 23 I was the youngest person on the floor by 20 years. Most were in their 60s-99. Yup, 99. Some of their patients had dementia and had to be talked to like children. I was not one of them and the therapist seemed to forget this on a daily basis.
Occupational. There were two occupational therapists. I liked them both. I had one most of the time. She was probably the therapist who helped me the most. She wouldn't do anything for me and wouldn't accept me being cranky. She was my favorite of all.
I was in the hospital from March 13th, when I was admitted to the ER through April 16th, when my husband and baby boy left and I finally got to go with them.
So after what I think was only 3 or 4 days, I was moved to rehab. I will give you a varying number of days each time you ask. Anywhere from 3 to anytime less than a week. Why? Because I have a very vague idea myself. People told me...I think. Funny thing is that now even my husband is not 100% sure.
I remember very few things. There were the nurses I tortured. They started it. The poking and prodding. There was a TV in my room. I remember being upset because I couldn't see or hear it. My vision was messed up bad and I had not yet adjusted to my single sided deafness. Ended up not mattering anyway. Aside from that one moment of frustration with it, I never even noticed it. I guess I slept a lot. There was also a speech therapist that came in my room. She had to check to see what kind of diet I could be on. I almost choked on ice. I was on puree.
I was on the rehab floor a couple of days before I started therapy. I started three kinds:
Physical - Self explanitory, I think. Walking, balancing, strength, etc...
Speech - Speech and facial muscles. I had been left with partial facial paralysis. It's almost gone, now. But I learned how to talk clearly and eat safely. Yeah. When you're numb on part of your face and it includes half your mouth...I bit my tongue a lot. It is not numb. I swear I have permanently pierced it. I still can't chew on that side.
Occupational - This is hand control and everyday activities. Brushing your teeth, hair, getting yourself dressed and tying your shoes. I had figured this stuff out with my left hand pretty quick. Of course, it was not numb. It was the right hand she pushed me to use. Good thing.
There were a small group of physical therapists. A few annoyed me to no ends. This one was nothing but pure sunshine. Looking back, she helped. The sunshine part could have flown the coop, but she was a good therapist. I had one therapist for a couple of weeks. But she left to take a job back at her hometown. Don't blame her. But at this point I really, really hate change. I got used to my next therapist and I like her. When my son came to visit, he'd try to follow her around. Now I had one therapist most of the time but every now and then I'd have another. This one was practical. She helped me figure out how to get up and down off the floor; pick up my son at least while sitting; and change a diaper. I liked her. Sometimes physical therapy hurt. I almost fell a few times while walking, but they are very careful not to let it happen.
There were two speech therapists. A student doing her clinics and the actual therapist. I liked the student better. She didn't talk to me like the other patients. See, at 23 I was the youngest person on the floor by 20 years. Most were in their 60s-99. Yup, 99. Some of their patients had dementia and had to be talked to like children. I was not one of them and the therapist seemed to forget this on a daily basis.
Occupational. There were two occupational therapists. I liked them both. I had one most of the time. She was probably the therapist who helped me the most. She wouldn't do anything for me and wouldn't accept me being cranky. She was my favorite of all.
I was in the hospital from March 13th, when I was admitted to the ER through April 16th, when my husband and baby boy left and I finally got to go with them.
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