It’s Sal’s birthday. She gets to celebrate it at the physio department up at the hospital this afternoon. We think they are gonna ‘push her’ to bend and walk and jump and twist. It’s gonna be brutal. Happy Birthday, baby!
I managed to get her through her first week post-surgery unscathed and improving but, of course, it was all really done by her and all I did was steppin’ and fetchin’, cookin’ and cleaning. PURE HELL!!!!
Yesterday, she insisted that ‘we’ go to Fabricland and shop for quilting supplies. She was barely a week out of bone-sawing surgery and she wanted to quilt! That was some kind of crazy fun.
Here we are at a fabric store managed by three old women with two other old women in there shopping. And so we joined the throng, the excitement, the buying frenzy. All hair was either grey or an unnatural colour not found anywhere in nature except, perhaps, poisonous amphibians and fungi.
I swear everyone there limped to some extent and two had walking aids (Sal had her walker, another had a cane). The cloth cutter had two hearing aids. All were a bit hunched over, all seemed a bit doddering and all were focused intently on bolts of cloth. And all of us tripped over things in the aisle.
Seems Fabricland uses the aisles to display even more weird stuff, limiting the width of the walking area to such an extent I had to walk ahead of Sal to clear the way. You’d THINK that a store catering to old women more than say, young, hip athletes, would at least allow enough width in the aisles for walkers and canes, wouldn’t you?
So THAT day-at-Fabricland was day 7 (Family Day) – seven days after having been discharged from the hospital. Today is day eight, the first day of the Physiotherapy era.
And I will continue the saga after this afternoons pain event…………….
(continued)………and it turned out be a ‘nothing-to-see-here’ kinda visit. The physio checked that Sal could do what she was supposed to do and then she said, “Well, that’s good. See you Thursday.”
“Unh, Ms Physio? If, when Sal attends her next session, and the extent of the physiotherapy is to simply check her progress, then……?”
“Oh, no. Next time we work her. Next time she gets on the machines. But she is at least one week, and more likely two weeks, ahead of where we expected her to be so this visit was just a progress assessment.”
Sal walked the hallway for the physio to see….and she walked almost normally. “Can I graduate to the cane today?”
“No! Good God, no. You are doing very well but you still need the walker for at least another week or two.”
And so we left. On the way out, we saw Sal’s ward mate come in. She is 3 years younger than Sal. The woman could barely move. She looked ten years older. After greetings we continued out of the hospital. Sal walked at least 400 feet going in (I dropped her at the entrance) and 600 feet leaving (200 feet longer to get to the car and parking lot). “Whew” she said. “That was a good walk. Now I need tea.”
Yes, I know. A blog on Sal walking is sad. But, you see, that is what old people do now. “Hey! First bowel movement in a week! Holeee!” “Unh, that’s good to hear, ma’am. You do know that this is the waiting room for physio, right?” “Course. Just wanted to share the good news. Have a good day!”