They tried to make me go to rehab…

Two weeks later.

I’ve been in the hospital for two long weeks.

How’s it going?

Glad you asked. It’s Wednesday at about 8pm, and they’re about to pick me up and move me literally across the street to the rehab clinic. In the old days (old days being literally two weeks ago) I could have walked there.

Now I’m not walking anywhere. At least for a while.

The two weeks in the hospital have gone by quickly. They were wonderful. Legitimately wonderful. Shout out to the 5th Floor nursing staff at Ascension Seton Kyle. Y’all are the very best I could have asked for,

Did you know that, when you have a major traumatic injury, you suddenly get swarmed with a series of doctors that come and see you at all times of the day and night? I did not, but I do now.

There were internal specialists, and surgical specialists, dieticians and limb specialists, administrators and diabetes specialists…it was a lot, but they were all really nice.

And then there were the nurses and interns that came in to poke me, and give me pills, and change IVs. I am not joking when I tell you that I saw a new person about every half hour, all day and night.

I guess that’s what happens when they are concerned that you’re going to die.

Pro tip: If you end up in the hospital, remember that they’re going to ask you your name and your date of birth and where you are and what happened to you every time. Just in case you might have forgotten, or are so traumatized that you can’t process.

Now, an interesting thing happened when I was in that space. Every time they came in, they asked me how much pain I was in, and, I swear to you, my limb (or lack thereof) was never in any pain. I am very lucky to have not had any phantom limb pain or anything since the surgeries. Also, gabapentin is a miracle drug.

The only pain I had at all was in my back and my butt from laying on a small bed without the ability to turn over for days on end. They offered me pain medication, and I stuck to Tylenol, because I didn’t want to develop a taste for anything stronger.

One night, by back was so sore from over exercising that I couldn’t get any rest, no matter how hard I tried, so I relented and took the very smallest dose of oxycontin.

This, dear reader, was a mistake.

I am SUPER drug sensitive, like even taking cold meds knocks me out for hours, so you can imagine what this experience may have been like, but, since I’m the one writing, I’ll tell you,,,

Remember the air mattress I previously mentioned? Well, that mattress auto adjusts every few seconds to account for your weight and the disposition of your body in the bed.

The effect of which, on oxycontin, was like being at sea. And not in the good way. YMMV, but the experience was, as my 9 year-old says when we make him try new food, “not for me.”

Daily, my residual limb had to be bolstered by a towel and a series of pillows so that it stayed extended, because when I get the prosthetic, it will be much harder to use if my leg has been resting in the bent-knee position, which is how most people usually rest.

Don’t worry, Jimmy was protected by a large brace with a foam pad inside that kept my leg in that position, courtesy of the prosthetist who came in to tell me all about my future foot.

More on that later.

Of all the people who came, though, it was my friends and family who showed up for me every day that really lifted me up through the experience.

At this time, I feel it’s important to introduce you to some friends of mine. I will introduce you to many over time, but these three are important to the story.

I have three dear friends who are all medical professionals, two of whom I was in a production of The Rocky Horror Show with in October, and who I instantly fell in love with. The third is the husband of Dr. Frank N’ Furter, and I fell in love with him as soon as we met.

These are very important people in my life, and they were before the hospital experience. In fact, I spent my last evening with both legs at their house, having been there for wine and cheese the night before my hospital visit. That they happen to be medical professionals with experience in what I was going through is just a happy bonus.

They came to visit when my father and wife were there. It was a full house. As soon as they came in, they were able to speak “hospital” fluently to me, interpreting the language of the doctors and staff with amazing precision, and explaining it to me in ways I could more easily understand.

I can’t begin to tell you how comforted I was by that visit. When they left, I not only had a more comprehensive understanding of what would happen next, but a pathway to improve in the immediate future.

So, for any of you who may be reading this from a hospital room, and are able, let me give you a couple pieces of advice they gave me:

1. Don’t eat in bed if you can help it - The routine of getting up to eat will motivate you to get out of bed as often as you can.

2. Try to order foods with double protein from the hospital menu. - Protein is super important to healing.

3. Wean yourself off the sliding scale insulin as soon as you can - Insulin dependence can be a bear, although I was afraid of taking insulin for a long time, which probably deterred me from regular doctor visits, but I’m here to tell you it’s not that bad,

But the one that’s most important to this part of the story is this:

Don’t refuse any kind of rehab they offer you.

You will have opportunities to say that you’re too tired, or you don’t feel good, or you aren’t up to it today. Don’t. Your rehab progress, especially in the early phases, is key to setting up the way you’re going to get through this.

I took that advice to heart, and got in those habits early.

Now, the idea of rehab scared me a little. You have to realize that I was not traditionally the kind of person for whom physical activity was a good thing. In fact, I avoided it at all costs.

But I knew that if I ever wanted to do any of the things I want to do again, I was going to have to shift that mentality. I vowed to work as hard as humanly possible to get back on my metaphorical (and physical) feet.

And rehab, friends, is hard.

Going to the rehab center, alone, late on a Wednesday night, with no idea of what was going to happen to me, with no means of getting around, and with no familiar faces, was one of the most difficult moments of this entire experience so far.

It was, in fact, the reason I decided to start this blog.

If there is literally one person that reads this and finds a little extra comfort, or a little advice, either emotional or practical, that helps, then I will feel it has all been worth it.

And so, in addition to the long story of how we got to this point, this blog is going to feature more tips and advice on how to be…well, disabled. Or at least non-ambulatory (for the moment).

Please, please, if you are reading, and you know someone who would benefit, let then know about this. Also, if you have questions, I’m so happy to answer. I am an open book.

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As always, if you have it in you, please give a thought to donating time or money to Hospice Austin. They do amazing work for people who are going through the hardest thing a person can face.

I will add some thoughts from a friend who works there in a future post, but hospice care is some of the most generous work a person can do.

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