I’ve realized that although I thought I was pretty “with it” when we came home I actually blocked most of that first 6-12 months at home out. This is probably my brain’s own defense mechanism since as Mommy says, I don’t need to remember all that – I wasn’t allowed to get out of bed into my wheelchair, dress, use the restroom, or bathe by myself.
When I was discharged from RIO I told Mommy gleefully, Now we can do WHATEVER we want!!!
Yeah, no, that’s actually not what that means, she replied.
The first time I took a shower by myself I waited until she was on the phone long-distance and snuck in to the bathroom. I got in big trouble. But let the record show that I didn’t fall down!
If nothing happened, that makes it okay, right, M (my partner in crime)?
Last week I almost fell off a table at The Running Gym. Poor Coach R, after telling me to stay still and verifying that I was stable, had turned around for one second to get something for my leg and I shifted my weight unsuccessfully. (Yes, I almost fell and I was already lying down. Welcome to my world. PS. I think all the tables at the Running Gym are very narrow.)
I gasped but started laughing hysterically – Don’t worry! Nothing happened, R – this is COMPLETLEY under control.
Coach R: Don’t DO that!! My heart rate just skyrocketed.
Me (to the lady on the next table): I was just checking to see if he was paying attention.
Yeah, he was paying attention. Also, my right forearm has been acting up (Mommy says it’s bc I keep a death grip on my cane) so Leo has been on vacation. This, in combination with my better-but-still-wrapped ankle, makes Coach R nervous. So he pretended to be my assistive device for my entire session on Thursday. I guess the table incident didn’t boost his confidence. But I’m just saying he’s a lot nicer than, oooh, say…..M37. That’s right, M37 – I totally just said that out loud. Incidentally I saw M37 a couple weeks ago and as we walked to the front door I very gingerly put a forefinger out to balance myself.
I see you touching that wall, she said. Some things don’t change.
In other news, I recently managed to light a piece of toast on fire. It was a small piece of gluten free bread that slipped through the grill in the toaster oven when I had a motor skill malfunction with the chopsticks I was using to remove it from the machine. (See that, Boo Boo? They were wooden chopsticks.) Let the record show that it was a teeny tiny flame. I managed to rectify the situation without incident. More accurately stated, the flame extinguished itself while I wiggled around, hoping to block it from view. Don’t worry, nothing’s happening! I assured Mommy as I hastily bustled around that corner of the kitchen.
I then proceeded to fall into the laundry room closet that evening when I was practicing my ADL’s. I might have screamed a little. But I caught myself, or the clothes in the closet caught me, and I called out to Mommy, Don’t worry, I’m fine – but I stood still for a few minutes, eyes moving shiftily even though I was alone, waiting to hear her footsteps. Sure enough, she appeared within seconds to verify that I was indeed okay. I said nothing happened, I laughed when I saw her.
Mm hmm… Mommy is not overly convinced by my assurances. I guess she figured out pretty soon after we came home that I have a stubborn and sneaky streak I managed to keep under wraps for 30 years. Well, it’s all out in the open, now, and I thank the Lord that I have come to no harm considering the tricks I’ve pulled in RecoveryLand, and the magnitude of my deficits, even though I do my best to keep them on the DL.
“moving my eyes shiftily…” hahahaaaa! That phrase will always make me laugh. It’s because of a home improvement salesman years ago that Jon referred to as “shifty-eyed.” I’ll need to tell you that story.
I think I should know this but what does ADL stand for? Couldn’t see it in that associated link.
Activities of Daily Living! You practice them in rehab 🙂
Aaah, kinda like WOD (thanks Crossfit fanatics) and OOD (thanks Joyce). 🙂