My roommate Denice went home. And my pal Helen went home. I got to say
goodbyes to Helen and Jamie and Jamie's husband and I got Helen's
address and email address so we can continue to be in contact.
The day started in the same bad way as the last few; waking up early
with great pain in my inner and top thighs, especially my right leg. On
my way back from a trip to the public bathroom (which is near the
entrance to the center), because somebody was occupying our joint
bathroom, I met Dr. Sturgeon, the on-staff doc (there are two of them, I
understand, but neither is in-house all the time), and he said, "and how
are you doing, Judith? It looks like you're moving well."
"Yes,I am moving well," I replied, "but I am having a very hard time
"Do you want something stronger?"
"Stronger or different. Something that works better, " I said.
"I'll take care of that," he said, as he sped away.
I didn't hold out a whole lot of hope but still. Managing the pain is my
number one concern right now.
In the afternoon a nurse came by to put a fentanyl patch on my upper
shoulder! Woo! I worried a little that I might get nauseous but they
have drugs for that and I'd take them. I knew and they knew that I could
tolerate narcotics because Percocet is one. By the time Tim came around
for my afternoon therapy I felt the pain was manageable. Tim was extra
cautious yesterday, though, didn't want to push anything, afraid it
would set off more pain issues later. Perhaps today he will be willing
to go again with the clock or something like that.
Last night came and I was afraid. Would the patch do all right? My brace
felt scratchy against my leg and it was hard to get comfortable. I tried
every which way, as usual, and finally asked for one sleeping pill and
one Percocet at about nine. I learned, in other words, that I don't have
to depend on the patch alone.
I slept better than I had in the last few days but it continued to be
difficult to get comfortable after I got up to go to the bathroom. When
I woke this morning I just wanted to keep sleeping. Which I did. Finally
breakfast came along and I got up to eat that and decided I needed to
get moving. Scott came in to ask about when I'd like to go for therapy
and we agreed on an hour from then, which gave me time to hit the
bathroom with my toiletries and take a shower.
I had just gotten out of the shower and was dressed and sitting on the
bed, waiting for therapy, when the administrator came in.
"You were in the washroom," she started.
I worried that my shower activity had leaked (we aren't supposed to do
this without assistance and only twice a week and in another shower!),
and that my wet hair was giving me away.
But no. "You are getting another roommate," she said.
I groaned. She said it will only be for one night and she's quiet, like
you, reads, like you, doesn't watch television all day or talk all the
time,so it should be a good fit. and anyway it's just one night.
So I sat and watched another bed being rolled into the room. They are
forever moving beds around here. And shortly after came my roommate,
whom I had met in therapy. She's nice, she's quiet, it will be okay.
Therapy this morning consisted of three walks around the building,
inside and out, leg kick-outs, leg raises (sort of like marching),
stepping sideways while holding onto Scott's hands (like a dance), and
doing some beanbag throwing using first my right hand with my right leg
stepping out, then the left. Needless to say, my left side work needs
work,but I think I did better than I expected. Anyway, I liked doing it,
using those different muscles, getting that additional balance work.
Afterwards I requested ice and got it. Damn cold, that stuff.
Which brings me up to date. Which means I may be writing more posts that
are generally about this experience rather than day-to-day.