The most uncomfortable car ride since… well, since knee surgery in 2009.
That’s me. In the passenger seat. On the way home from the hospital.
I’m not a good passenger.
Notice: Treating the cross trainers, untied, like loafers. Left hip needs to be higher than the knee. Not supposed to pigeon toe (if you notice, looks like I might have been doing that; oops). Towels on the seat to ensure butt and hip are sufficiently elevated.
My only current means of transportation.
Dad’s old walker. 5/16/14 is the day he came home from the hospital, four months after he arrived.
FOUR MONTHS!
This will be my world for the immediate future. The fake parts need time. I thought it was to give the bones time to adhere to the new fake parts. Instead, it’s about the time necessary for the muscles and iliotibial band to repair around the hip socket.
No driving. Narcotics make you crazy! My mood swung almost violently in an hour Tuesday afternoon as I progressed from successfully ascending and descending a flight of stairs to working with the occupational therapist with the raised toilet seat (I told you this was going to be unfiltered), showering strategies, and then a complete meltdown by yours truly as I recalled helping Dad with some of these things when he first got home after his four-month confinement.
Now that was a run-on sentence!
But it’s a fitting way to exemplify yesterday’s mood.
And then I got the list of precautions during my discharge consultation with the nurse. By the time I left, I was pissed off. I was blindsided. Either I wasn’t told before or I wasn’t listening.
In any event, I wasn’t aware.
Then s short trip to pick up some of my Dad’s old medical equipment. That brought my mood lower.
Then the long, rush hour drive home. Which made me nauseous.
Then I got into the house. And saw all the obstacles. And envisioned all the things I wasn’t going to be able to do in the next few weeks.
My poor, poor family. I ranted the rest of the night.
