Tuesday, right? It's Tuesday?

Life gets blurry in the hospital

Yesterday was a long and frustrating day. I think I’ve been relatively positive that at least we’re getting some answers, blah, blah, blah, but sometimes that doesn’t feel like enough.

Yesterday, the hospitalist (or whatever we call them) came in and said the plan was for me to go to residential rehab. I questioned him about surgery and he was kinda, “Oh, yes, eventually.” Then he said, “Oh, but you’re getting better, walking further….” and I interrupted and said, “NO, I’M NOT! I’M NOT BETTER AT ALL!” He prevaricated a bit and I told him I didn’t understand why he thought that and I didn’t want that perception there, at least at this time because it was INCORRECT! I WAS SO PISSED! I managed to walk to the toilet with assistance and not fall. That’s not better, if anything that’s worse than I was at home. I continued to make my point until he backed off. Christ almighty that made me mad. He left and I tried not to cry.

Then some case managers came in to give me options for residential rehab. So, there are three options in town. Clark-Lindsey which is always full. a place I’ve never heard tucked back behind Sam’s Club on Prospect and the old nursing home that is near the Savoy theaters. Because of course Champaign County Nursing Home is no more, thank you very much, voters.

So I guess the Savoy option is best. I think it’s a new owner or revamped or whatever but when my mother was alive it was a nursing home. She was admitted (for residential rehab…) and I went to visit her that day after work. They couldn’t figure out where she was. They finally suggested that I just walk up and down the halls and peer into rooms looking for her. It’s been 15 years or so, I guess I should be over it, but I’m not. Oh, and I did eventually find her. Judi was still alive then so she was in charge of the complaining and she did a masterful job.

Then I spent time trying to figure out the wheelchair access issue. Whatever we do it will be thousands of dollars and of course we’re still trying to find out how to pay for Ernie’s teeth, which are thousands of dollars even AFTER so-called dental insurance. Mind you, the issues were caused by medical insurance approved drugs. Sigh. I know I should be able to afford that at this point in my life but life hasn’t gone quite as planned and the last few years wiped out our savings. Not that I’m asking for help mind you (truly) and I know, we have made our choices in life and they lead you one way or the other, don’t they? I do have to sort it out though. We’re talking either a 47 foot ramp or a lift of some kind. The free programs are full up, the city has a program but your house has to be up to code and..well, you’ve seen the paint on our house….

Ok, moving along. Later in the afternoon somebody from surgery came in and said they were now thinking surgery on Thursday. Then she realized I was on a bedpan and scuttled off. I suppose somebody will tell me before they slice me open.

I do feel a bit stronger and have had a little easier time standing. I think I was pushing myself so damn hard the last week or so, trying to use the stairs, trying to get to the car, that I was just utterly exhausted. I think a few days rest has helped. Thank God there is no video or audio of me trying to get up the stairs. It wasn’t pretty to say the least.

And might I say, being in the hospital certainly makes one conscious of how ruled we are by our body and its digestive system. I want you all to count and tell me how many times you go to the bathroom each day. Thank you.

Thanks for the good thoughts and kind messages.

Onward.

Love,
Cynthia

Oh, and Ernie says Esther misses me.