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Posts Tagged ‘recuperation’


I had missed my 3-week vacation to France. I sorely needed a good, healing change of scenery. I decided Puerto Rico would be a vacation unlike most of our typical active vacations. Warm climate during our miserable winter, quick plane ride, US protectorate, possible beach visits (I am NOT a beach person, rather an explorer, but it sounded like the right location for recuperating). We booked a weeklong trip for the end of February. I was feeling good.

Unable to lie around, we explored the old city where we stayed in a small boutique hotel. The area is small and walkable when I am in my usual state, but the hills are steep and the temperature was high, thus challenging for this weakling. Still, I enjoyed the sights, food and time away with my husband.

We arrived on a Saturday and roamed the area for the next few days. Then – you guessed it – I was sidelined again on Wednesday, spending the rest of the week a limited distance from my hotel room. I was having extreme pain in my pelvis. We got home on Sunday and I returned to the hospital to look for a cause for and management of the pain, as well as intermittent fevers. In the coming months, I spent three separate weeks in the hospital and many visits to various specialists to test for bladder issues, intestinal issues, infections, etc.

I was discharged the last time, on heavy narcotic medications, with no more information on the cause of pain. Feeling desperate and too sick to seek out new opinions in faraway places, I confined myself to bed most of the day. My appetite had waned and I lost another 5 lbs.

My resolve had thawed. The hopelessness returned. More astonishing was the fact I had held up for so long under the circumstances, for so long before.

To be continued . . . . . .

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After a month in the ICU, I was moved to the surgical floor, where I spent the second month recuperating. Still hooked up to many drains, tubes, suction devices and food being administered by IV, I was unable to eat anything by mouth. I passed the time binge watching old TV shows. I was only just able to focus my eyes after all the anesthesia left me out of focus for weeks. On October 18th, the wonderful hospital staff secretly made and hung banners to throw me a 60th birthday party in my room, in lieu of the dinner I was supposed to be having in Lyon, France. My sister, nieces, sons, husband and cousins came bearing gifts (no cake) and got me outside for a breath of fresh air on a beautiful fall day.

The chief of the rehabilitation floor came twice to assess my ability to handle the necessary amount of rehab. Both times she said I was not a candidate, as I could not cope with the amount of rehab they require for admission to their unit. Their suggestion was to receive rehab at a nursing home. Only one would take patients on parental (IV) feeding. I steadfastly refused the option. I wasn’t leaving the hospital until I could go home. I had several unplanned physical therapy sessions when the staff had the time to fit me in. They started by standing me up. Next time I used a walker in my room to take a few steps. After several days I could shuffle to the to the bathroom myself! Then I ventured into the hall with my walker. The next day I used the cane. The day after, I walked once around the floor only holding my IV pole. Then another lap, and another, day by day.

The last thing standing between me and my home was being able to walk up 10 steps so I could enter my house. I asked the physical therapist to take me to the stairwell to practice. I pulled myself up those steps – and kept going, forgetting I had to also come down. Twenty steps. I could do it. Suddenly, talk of a nursing home ceased. I was going to be able to go directly home!

Still unable to take in anything by mouth, I was sent home on Halloween with a central line for IV feeding and antibiotics. Drains and tubes came along too, but at last I would be in my own bed after two long months! It was both exhilarating and scary to be removed from the care I still depended on. Visiting nurses and infusion specialists set me up with home care, teaching both my husband and I how to manage the feedings and medications. It was hard to be in a home environment and unable to participate in the usual activities: showers, meals, outside activities, social visits. At times, the hours were endless. My husband became nurse and provider, a job he did with amazing grace and care.

To be continued . . . . . .

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