Family update: yesterday was another milestone day. Mom was discharged from the ICU and released to a Neuro step down unit. It feels excellent to head to the 5th floor instead of the second, to not have to be let in by security to visit and not have more than just family on the floor. There are even windows! The paperwork will begin today for a release to rehab centre.
And speaking of milestones, the blog has reached day 100! It had been quite a journey. Mom could not miss this milestone so wrote a blog of her own for today.
Day 100. A note from the patients room.
By the patient herself
Hello friends, family and blogs readers. It has been quite an eventful five days. I cannot believe that kind of time has passed. I feel the closure of ICU. It was exactly what I needed when I needed it; however it is a part of my immediate past I am oh so willing to let go of. I will write more on it later because, as always, I learned a lot.
Your notes, letters, comments and blog writings have been read, and reread to me. I enjoyed them each and every time as though it was the first time I heard them. I'm easily entertained at the moment and my family are taking advantage of that.
I am finally in a Neuro step down unit and Dr. Fehlings has started the transition to move me to rehab. Having had a heart to heart via cellphone with him on Saturday, he felt certain it was necessary for me to stay in Toronto in an inpatient rehabilitation centre. I felt certain if it was going to be a rehab centre, than I wanted to have Lyndhurst as my first choice. Having spent my time there years ago it actually takes a little of the sting out of having to do inpatient rehab at all. Besides, I've done the hard work of facing my PTSD fears from my last experience down this road, so I've got a bone to pick with with this process. Seriously I want to get on with this next step and hopefully work some magic on it.
I am so very happy I allowed myself the privileged brief time of "what if?" Because when I opened my eyes from surgery and did the wiggle of my toes for the first time and they didn't move, I died a little bit right there on that bed. I felt a hot tear slip down my cheek and within minutes a nurse was asking why I was crying. I couldn't believe she could ask such a heartless question but then I remembered, only I knew. She only wanted to help, give me pain relief or comfort, but I needed much more.
By the time the Neuro team came by I had myself together to a degree. I did all their testing. Very extensive testing. It continued hourly through the night, there was an emergency CT scan just to be sure there was nothing obvious, which thankfully there was not, as they were ready to go back into surgery that night.
Over the course of the night little by little I got something back. First it was my left toes, then left foot, then left calf and something up patchy parts of the left leg. Finally, well into the night, I had feeling of some kind in the right foot. Once it started I was emotionally okay. I mean just okay, but that thread of hope is as bright as the sun shining down on a sparkling fresh fallen snow. It is intoxicating to me, and it is empowering beyond any meaning of that word I have ever known. I have known this feeling only once before, and at that time, it was the same reason. Man that saying give her an inch and she'll take a foot sure fits.
I wanted to scream. I smiled and felt a sense of calmness for a moment. I reassured the tired eyes of those earnest young doctors who were up all day operating then waking me hourly for a twenty five minute test. As I learned in my call with Dr Fehlings they then called him to discuss the hourly update. We had a moment. I told them I'm going to be okay. I can do this. You guys did good. They took it. I saw them standing before me like somebody's sons and daughters. They needed to know they won this one. They had, and they will. I just have to live up to it now. My work begins now. Theirs is done.
And speaking of milestones, the blog has reached day 100! It had been quite a journey. Mom could not miss this milestone so wrote a blog of her own for today.
Day 100. A note from the patients room.
By the patient herself
Hello friends, family and blogs readers. It has been quite an eventful five days. I cannot believe that kind of time has passed. I feel the closure of ICU. It was exactly what I needed when I needed it; however it is a part of my immediate past I am oh so willing to let go of. I will write more on it later because, as always, I learned a lot.
Your notes, letters, comments and blog writings have been read, and reread to me. I enjoyed them each and every time as though it was the first time I heard them. I'm easily entertained at the moment and my family are taking advantage of that.
I am finally in a Neuro step down unit and Dr. Fehlings has started the transition to move me to rehab. Having had a heart to heart via cellphone with him on Saturday, he felt certain it was necessary for me to stay in Toronto in an inpatient rehabilitation centre. I felt certain if it was going to be a rehab centre, than I wanted to have Lyndhurst as my first choice. Having spent my time there years ago it actually takes a little of the sting out of having to do inpatient rehab at all. Besides, I've done the hard work of facing my PTSD fears from my last experience down this road, so I've got a bone to pick with with this process. Seriously I want to get on with this next step and hopefully work some magic on it.
I am so very happy I allowed myself the privileged brief time of "what if?" Because when I opened my eyes from surgery and did the wiggle of my toes for the first time and they didn't move, I died a little bit right there on that bed. I felt a hot tear slip down my cheek and within minutes a nurse was asking why I was crying. I couldn't believe she could ask such a heartless question but then I remembered, only I knew. She only wanted to help, give me pain relief or comfort, but I needed much more.
By the time the Neuro team came by I had myself together to a degree. I did all their testing. Very extensive testing. It continued hourly through the night, there was an emergency CT scan just to be sure there was nothing obvious, which thankfully there was not, as they were ready to go back into surgery that night.
Over the course of the night little by little I got something back. First it was my left toes, then left foot, then left calf and something up patchy parts of the left leg. Finally, well into the night, I had feeling of some kind in the right foot. Once it started I was emotionally okay. I mean just okay, but that thread of hope is as bright as the sun shining down on a sparkling fresh fallen snow. It is intoxicating to me, and it is empowering beyond any meaning of that word I have ever known. I have known this feeling only once before, and at that time, it was the same reason. Man that saying give her an inch and she'll take a foot sure fits.
I wanted to scream. I smiled and felt a sense of calmness for a moment. I reassured the tired eyes of those earnest young doctors who were up all day operating then waking me hourly for a twenty five minute test. As I learned in my call with Dr Fehlings they then called him to discuss the hourly update. We had a moment. I told them I'm going to be okay. I can do this. You guys did good. They took it. I saw them standing before me like somebody's sons and daughters. They needed to know they won this one. They had, and they will. I just have to live up to it now. My work begins now. Theirs is done.
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