The sky is mostly gray but the sun is attempting to come out and spread a little warmth. The Fall is here and the leaves are turning, dropping and dancing in the Oklahoma wind. I do enjoy Fall but I’m still mourning the loss of Summer, just can’t help myself. This weather of late has been so beautiful though, so I’m going to enjoy it, for what it is and quit lamenting that I can’t stop the rotation of the earth, for my own purposes.
Today is a new day for me. It marks the first day that I feel alive again and on my way to recovery. My surgeon did his follow up, from my surgery and told me that I did not have to EVER go back to the house of pain again. That would be the physical therapy center and the Nazi’s that run it. I’m a little bitter, can you tell? I needed therapy but talk about overkill, they hurt me in ways I don’t want to ever think about again. I won’t bore you with the details, I’ll just say I’m now under my own rehab program and one that my surgeon feels will work just fine.
I’ve had a few steroid injections which are never fun but again, I welcomed them and if I was cussing like a Quentin Tarantino movie in my head, that’s OK, I asked for forgiveness and smiled through the whole process. I was worried he’d be reluctant to give me another injection but when he pulled out that huge needle filled with that liquid lava, I smiled and welcomed the burn. Nurse Cindy asked if I needed a gown first but I was way ahead of her. I didn’t wait for them to leave while I changed and possibly had him change his mind. Nope, I dropped my bad shoulder down, then wrenched it back up and through the neck of my shirt, exposing my shoulder and arm for his convenience. Not the classiest move ever but you’d have to be me of late to understand that some pain is worth feeling, to alleviate a pain that is unrelenting.
My shoulder feels a little worse today than usual but that’s OK, I am still in the early stages of recovery and only my hard work will pull me through it. I’m now down to only 1 hour each day of rehabbing. The Nazi’s had me doing 2 hours plus the 1 1/2 hours of torture that they put me through. See what I mean? This started less than 24 hours after my surgery, while my arm was screaming inside from being torn apart. Maybe I should add a little bitter management to my rehab, to get over the bad thoughts I have of them. I know they meant well but I also know I was a piece of meat and nothing more. When I called to cancel all the P.T. I had scheduled, in the upcoming weeks, I found myself on the phone with Maegan instead, asking “How are you?” She just found out that she lost a victim, from her den of torture and wanted to know why. Now that I think about it, asking me “How are you,” should have come at the beginning of my therapy. If I was going to inflict pain on someone, even for their own good, I’d introduce myself and at least tell the patient that it would be OK and we’d work through it together. Maegan’s way was to say, “Yeah, that lady is a walking zombie over there, she’s totally out of it!” This was me, less than 24 hours after surgery, an arm that was still blocked, pain meds coursing through me and so incoherent that my Mother was following behind, answering for me and possibly even wiping drool from my mouth.
When I met Maegan in a more coherent state, the following day, she still had nothing to say to me. When she put her hands on me and started truly hurting me, there was no explanation of it and no concern. The strange thing is, the whole room was like that. The walking wounded were everywhere around me, in various stages of pain and recovery and we were ALL just waiting to be helped, into a better life. Instead we were very nonchalantly being told what to do, how to do it and with little or no communication. I think that is what kept getting to me the most. There was no talking between the patient and the therapy team. It’s a very isolating feeling to be in a roomful of people but the only communication is between the workers, with each other. There are no smiles and I’m not kidding on this. I get that now and yet I know people and their personalities. You’ll always have the bubbly person that will do whatever it takes, with a smile on their face because it’s their nature. Not here, this was the exception.
I really liked the therapist that I consulted with and he was more of a hands on person but still, removed somehow. A moment connected would get cut quickly and it just felt wrong. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t there to make friends and have a good time and I knew that. I was there to get my life back and I expected pain and I expected a lot of it. To give credit, Andy did explain himself and tried to be gentle and caring. I think my only objection would be that the medical profession always seems to want to treat the illness or disease the same, not taking into account the uniqueness of the individual. I kept trying to explain that there were other considerations going on inside my shoulder, to no avail.
I won’t give Maegan the same consideration since I think she gave me none. I was meat and nothing more. When she enlisted the aid of her assistant in pushing me beyond my limits, it was the assistant that told her to stop, that I couldn’t go further. Am I wrong? Shouldn’t there be some kind of personal involvement with a person you’re going to so intimately touch and cause pain to? Is that why there isn’t, because of guilt or something? They say surgeons are like that but on the whole, that has not been my experience. Mine have all been caring individuals and although they have to hurt you, they also try to help you through it.
I will put this behind me and in blogging about it, I suppose that is what I’m attempting to do. I’ve just come to realize that it isn’t just the pain but the unfortunate circumstances of last week that didn’t have to happen, that I’m trying to put to rest. It’s definitely a live it, learn it thing. If ever I need P.T. again, I will probably fear it but I will go in armed with more knowledge and I won’t expect to meet another Maegan, but if I do, she’ll have a hard time getting anywhere near me.
Through all of this, I’ve had my most beloved man beside me. I could wax on about his perfection, because he is perfect and I could list all the amazing things he’s done, because he has done them all and I could tell you my incredible love for him, ad nauseam and that too would all be true but you’d either think me exaggerating in the extreme or simply not believe me. If I read something like that, I’d probably be skeptical too because I know I’m the only one on earth that has such perfection, right? He is life and he is mine and I will spend my life trying to be worthy of him.
I have also had the loving arms of my Mom. She doesn’t really believe it when I tell her that her hugs are healing and make me feel better. Even when I’m not hurting, they make me feel whole and happier. She has fed me and loved me through this time, but even more, she’s listened and cared about every step I’ve taken.
My girls. Oh my girls, who make me prouder than I have any right to be. As if I have anything to do with their perfection. They have grown up and though they have always been my friends, as well as my daughters, they’ve become even more so now. It’s a mother’s nature to try and not worry her children and I attempted to do just that but I failed many times and let my fear and pain show through and they let me. I will reward them with me, being whole for them and that will be enough for them. Since it will not be enough for me, I will reward them with all my love, holiday feasts and the best Christmas ever. It’s a start.
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