Solid Food

The rest of the week was a blur; it was hard work. I enjoyed physical therapy and occupational therapy because I saw results and the work made sense to me, unlike speech therapy which continued to be a strain on my persona of having a positive attitude. I did get the speech therapist to let me start eating more solid foods. I don’t understand why she had that power, but she did. My first real "solid" meal was chicken parmesan, made with ground chicken; but it was fantastic!

I talked to the occupational therapist and the doctor agreed to allow pool therapy. I just had to prove three things: first, I had to be able to control my bladder, second, I had to be able to control my bowels, and third, I could not have any open sores, which meant my bed sores had to heal up. Fortunately, I only had one left; it was on my butt. So, I had to retrain my bladder, although it wasn’t hard, it was uncomfortable. The bowels were not problem, and the bed sore was just in a bad spot. I ended up having to show my keester to a lot of nurses; it’s not as must fun as it sounds. One time a specialist came in with trainees to show them my butt and many of trainees were young ladies. Boy, modesty goes right out the window when you’re sick and in a care facility. They rolled me over and the specialist said, “Where is it? I thought I was coming down here to see a butt, but all I see is a crack, there’s no butt here.” Everyone laughed. All I could think was it is official “I’m an old man”.  She said it was healing well, but I still had a day or two before it would be ready for the pool.

I was becoming more aware of my surroundings every day and became even more of a people watcher. I noticed there were ten or more patients in the workout room pretty much all day. We got where we recognized each other and occasionally cheered each other on. It was good to see other people improve. I also realized how lucky I was; I had family there every day all day long. Most of the patients never had visitors or only occasionally, maybe once a week. You sure could see big improvements in the patients when a visitor did come to visit them.

I wasn’t a big fan of the weekend because visiting hours were moved back later. Saturday the kids came and brought me a milkshake. I was very thankful even though sweet foods no longer tasted as good as I thought they should, my taste buds were off. In the evening the two ladies from the church came knocking. It was nice to see them again. I was sitting up in my wheelchair and had use of my hands this time. They were impressed with the improvement. We prayed and took communion; the same feeling of energy rushed through me again and this time an even stronger peace of mind. It was great.