Growth
My little family and I are back in Toledo, and life here seems so drastically improved since the last time we were here that I can’t help but be excited! When we left over three weeks ago, Dad was still delusional, in the hospital, and only able to do therapy every other day or so. Physical therapy at that point consisted of sitting up on the edge of his bed for as long as he could—usually for about ten minutes—sometimes wash his face and brush his teeth, and being reminded every few seconds to open his eyes.
Now, I can’t even remember the full list of things Dad told me he has done lately in physical therapy. He hits a large balloon back and forth with the therapist, catches and tosses it, holds a baseball bat in each hand to bat it back and forth, does the same with only one bat so that he has to change hands quickly, does leg lifts/circles/bends and extensions. He uses the slide board to transfer to and from a chair and wheelchair. If it weren’t for the fixators on his feet, I’m pretty sure he could do that task on his own. With the fixators, though, he needs someone to hold his feet off the ground and move them while he moves his upper body.
He also flexes his thighs and knees hundreds of times per day while he’s sitting in bed, which in the past two days alone has greatly improved the “twitch” he was previously able to acheive with his right thigh. Now his right thigh downright flexes. His enthusiasm about that change was fantastic to witness today. I got to hear him explain the difference to at least three people, and he said when asked by a visitor how likely he is to walk again, “I feel really encouraged now that that right leg is starting to do a little more.” I feel exactly the same. After his appointment with the neurosurgeon two weeks ago it seemed like his biggest potential handicap was going to be the numbness in his right leg. The leg is still numb, but the little bit of increased movement, as small as it is, is an enormous bright spot on this road.
The day after we left three weeks ago, Dad “woke up,” and has been fully coherent, participating in his care, making decisions, complaining about the food, and enjoying conversations with visitors, ever since. By the end of that first week of knowing what was happening around him, he had transferred to the rehab facility he is in now.
When we left, every time Dad was going to do therapy or wanted to sit up higher than 45 degrees, he had to be log rolled to have his back brace put on—a very painful process for him on most occasions. Now, he pushes himself forward with his arms into a sitting position and whoever is helping him can easily slide the brace down behind his back. Then he is able to tighten the buckles on it himself. He is only required to wear the brace during transfers and other large movements now, so once he has moved into the chair in his room the aides are able to take it off of him.
He is able to sit in a chair for hours at a time. He feeds himself all of his meals (what he eats of them, anyway). He likes to watch baseball (who is this man??). He directs the aides and nurses and therapists as they help to maneuver him, and he is particularly enthusiastic about explaining things in detail to the student nurses who are there every Wednesday. He seems to enjoy being considered a fascinating patient.
He sees the orthopedic surgeon for another follow-up appointment tomorrow. We’re hoping to find out when the fixators might come off.
The first half of the drive from my parents’ house to the rehab facility is the same as the route I took to the hospital last month. The corn is taller than me, now, and look how far we’ve come.
(If you’re wondering why I’m talking about corn, go read this post)
Now, I can’t even remember the full list of things Dad told me he has done lately in physical therapy. He hits a large balloon back and forth with the therapist, catches and tosses it, holds a baseball bat in each hand to bat it back and forth, does the same with only one bat so that he has to change hands quickly, does leg lifts/circles/bends and extensions. He uses the slide board to transfer to and from a chair and wheelchair. If it weren’t for the fixators on his feet, I’m pretty sure he could do that task on his own. With the fixators, though, he needs someone to hold his feet off the ground and move them while he moves his upper body.
He also flexes his thighs and knees hundreds of times per day while he’s sitting in bed, which in the past two days alone has greatly improved the “twitch” he was previously able to acheive with his right thigh. Now his right thigh downright flexes. His enthusiasm about that change was fantastic to witness today. I got to hear him explain the difference to at least three people, and he said when asked by a visitor how likely he is to walk again, “I feel really encouraged now that that right leg is starting to do a little more.” I feel exactly the same. After his appointment with the neurosurgeon two weeks ago it seemed like his biggest potential handicap was going to be the numbness in his right leg. The leg is still numb, but the little bit of increased movement, as small as it is, is an enormous bright spot on this road.
The day after we left three weeks ago, Dad “woke up,” and has been fully coherent, participating in his care, making decisions, complaining about the food, and enjoying conversations with visitors, ever since. By the end of that first week of knowing what was happening around him, he had transferred to the rehab facility he is in now.
When we left, every time Dad was going to do therapy or wanted to sit up higher than 45 degrees, he had to be log rolled to have his back brace put on—a very painful process for him on most occasions. Now, he pushes himself forward with his arms into a sitting position and whoever is helping him can easily slide the brace down behind his back. Then he is able to tighten the buckles on it himself. He is only required to wear the brace during transfers and other large movements now, so once he has moved into the chair in his room the aides are able to take it off of him.
He is able to sit in a chair for hours at a time. He feeds himself all of his meals (what he eats of them, anyway). He likes to watch baseball (who is this man??). He directs the aides and nurses and therapists as they help to maneuver him, and he is particularly enthusiastic about explaining things in detail to the student nurses who are there every Wednesday. He seems to enjoy being considered a fascinating patient.
He sees the orthopedic surgeon for another follow-up appointment tomorrow. We’re hoping to find out when the fixators might come off.
The first half of the drive from my parents’ house to the rehab facility is the same as the route I took to the hospital last month. The corn is taller than me, now, and look how far we’ve come.
(If you’re wondering why I’m talking about corn, go read this post)
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