August 19-24 2016 Come Out Fighting

My brain was pretty alert by the time I went home. The physical therapists at St. Joseph's Villa had trained me well. I was now shuffling with a cane, and able to slowly roll on one side and pull myself up from bed with the help of the bed rail. Which meant I could shuffle to the bathroom on my own! And finally have the privacy that a bathroom was meant for (insert sigh of relief).
I was also finally wearing normal clothes--well, normal in comparison to a hospital gown. I lived in loose pajama pants and button down shirts, not yet able to pull a shirt over my head or pull up anything more fitted than sweatpants.

The PTs helped me find the right items to purchase, so I could create a make-shift rehab environment within my own home. For the next couple weeks, I kept notes daily in a spiral-bound calendar. Most of the entries were along the lines of these:
Emotionally and mentally drained from visitors. Love seeing them, but so hard to keep focus without my brain getting tired.
Nausea and headache with added pain today.
Sudden sharp pain in lower back. Dizzy and headachey.
Constipated. Worst night. All day uncomfortable.
Dizzy and tired. Woke up stiff and achey.

Pretty dismal, right? Surprisingly though, no one would have known how miserable it really was unless they were staying with me. I kept a fairly positive attitude. In a situation like this, you have to. Hope for a future that will be better, and finding good out of a bad situation. It was easier said than done, but it was done. I am a fighter by nature, and this wasn't going to pull me down.

Getting outside in my pjs...and my cute cane my brother decorated for me.

My makeshift hospital bed--bed rail, foam wedge. I'm holding a little mechanism I had to suck breath in several times a day to strengthen my punctured lung.