32. I'm Still Standing

My room was one of the ward's side-rooms, not gender-specified. To the left were: the day room (where everyone else ate, meetings were held, etc); a female bay (4 beds to a bay); another side room, and the doors to the ward. To the right were 2 more side rooms, 2 male bays, the gym, the nurses' station and the therapists' office. Straight ahead were 2 toilets and 2 showers. Because I didn't want to watch the TV, I asked if I could just sit at the entrance of my room, facing the toilet. Exciting. One time, one of the housekeepers took me to do a jigsaw with her. I remember making the same corner section 3 times as I kept dropping it on the floor, and slumping onto the table as I couldn't keep my chest and head up.

I was sitting in my chair for about 5 hours a day, and this stretched to 6 and then 7. Thankfully, in neuro rehab they took my blood pressure (observations) at the start of the shift, rather than the end, so it was more like 8-9am/pm (not as disruptive as brain injury's ridiculously early morning starts). I used to have real problems picking my clothes for the day, when presented with the choice. My mum had bought about 6 cheap (but very nice) pairs of pyjamas (to be thrown away if necessary), and every top went with every bottom. Since I was wearing pyjamas all day, you'd think I would mind, but at this point, what I was wearing was the last thing on my mind.

My first night in the ward, I couldn't pee, and was kept awake by this fact from 2-4am, needing to go, but not able to do so. I had several bladder scans that night, which confirmed that, yes, my bladder was full. I found the scan far too interesting. It's exactly the same as an ultrasound, with the jelly and clicky noise and everything. I learned that everyone's bladder is in a slightly different place, and mine was quite low down, and to the left. During the scan, I kept asking if it was a boy, and when was it due. In the end, they drained my bladder by briefly inserting a cathata, then took it back out again. They said this wouldn't hurt, and it didn't. It just tickled a bit. Surprising. At least I was able to sleep then.

The therapy team were all young and cheerful. I met them all gradually. In those early days, I was seen by a senior physio called Nathaniel, and his student Laura. (When physio students go on placement, they are assigned to a 'senior' physio, following them around ike a padawan, or a baby horse). Laura was a friend to me, being my peer, and I loved a chance to have one-on-one gym sessions with her. I did a lot of lying on my back and trying to keep my bent-up knee from wobbling. I loved the opportunity to chatter away to someone. I have definitely talked more than walked this year.

I would be stood up on my feet, and Nathaniel would kind of crouch and hold my knees firmly together. There I would stand, wobbling. My PEG tube used to dangle down from my stomach, probably just a bit longer than a hand-span (I never actually took a picture of it), level with Nathaniel's face. I had real trouble not laughing, as it looked ridiculous. A grown man huddled over my feet looking up at me, with my tube hanging at his mouth, with Elton John's 'I'm Still Standing' playing in my head. Surreal. Good to be finally standing though.

Mum's birthday. So hard to hit a piñata someone's holding.