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.