Family, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

Heat

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Final entry from my bed in room 103. Back into the stream of daily life without periodic checking of my vital signs, room service meals, and therapy with Margaret, Jenny, and Britinni. Though I’ve had a good experience I’m ready to leave rehab.

Still boggles my mind that I was at home on June 30th, then in the E.R. on July 1. In this hospital bed or that one until today, twenty seven days later. Must have been serious.

Joe and Mary worked hard over the weekend getting things ready for me. I’m excited to see what they’ve done.

We’re making a to go order from the Lazy Butcher for a homecoming meal. Barbecue, burgers, lots of Southern side dishes. Conveniently close to my doctors where I have to go for a bone strengthening shot after I leave here.

Joe has also arranged a tour of Elk Run assisted living at 3 pm. It will be my first time there. Elk Run is not far from the Life Care Center and is behind the synagogue. Their location in a place I know well matters to me.

 

Elsewhere the world is on fire. Wildfires make regular front page news. Trump gets mad at Canadian smoke and slaps on tariffs just because he can. Spain and France have major fires approaching Madrid and Bordeaux. Heat. Hotter.

Dopy Donald can’t find a path out of the Chinese finger puzzle he’s created for himself in Iran. I hope he finds something because this war is a plague on all of our houses.

 

Fourth Phase, Health, Shadow Mountain

Changed

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The success of rehab. Feeling ready for the transition. Going home. And, I do feel ready. A bit stronger, more mobile, feeling good.

How will it be at home? No way to know until I get there. Twenty-seven days after the E.R. All in medical facilities. A long time to be away from the familiar.

Life Care center’s rehab wing with its private rooms, quiet halls reminds me of Catholic retreat centers of the same modernist vintage. Going with that I’ve tried to use this as a time for reflection, for considering my life as it is now. Not as I wish it was, but as it is.

Frailer in body. Diminished in size. Fresh intimations of mortality in recent memory. Surrounded by friends and family. Visitors every day. My curiosity, my eagerness to learn if anything heightened by the alone time I’ve had in abundance this medical month.

I feel myself changed. Less beholden to previously unexamined life choices like needing to remain in the house. Keenly aware of life’s fragility. Even more grateful for the relationships I have.

As I feel changed, I also find myself open to change. It may come, maybe soon.

 

Family, Fourth Phase, Health

Teshuva

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Another quiet weekend at Life Care rehab. The busyness of therapy  vanishes. The hallways have fewer staff. Relaxed.

That means more alone time. Time to contemplate what brought us here, where we’re headed after this gap between the hospital and home. Or, somewhere else.

I could not have navigated these last few weeks without Mary and Joseph. They’ve kept the homefires burning. Taken care of Shadow. Readied the house for my return. Sought options and resources. Visited. Mostly been present when I needed hem.

My time here is almost done. Insurance says move on Monday, not Tuesday. Yes, sir. I have gained a lot here, tips on activities of daily living, how to strengthen myself, confidence in my physicality. Too, I’ve had what Kate would call the tincture of time. Time to recover from the brutal, disorienting moments that kept me alive. I needed that time to clear my head, return to myself. Teshuva.

 

Fourth Phase, General, Health, Shadow Mountain

Turtling

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Since July 1st, the day I went to the emergency room, I’ve been turned inward: a turtle with head, legs, and tail tucked inside. At first this was self-protection from the shocks caused by disease and then by the efforts to keep me alive.

Later it was a response to severe disorientation brought on by being suddenly thrust into vulnerability, having my body managed by others. Blood draws. Pills. IV insertions. How quickly I became dependent. Lost agency.

Don’t get me wrong. These were necessary, even life-saving interventions. I’m deeply grateful to be here, able to write. Even so the sudden turn into patient, into bystander rocked my world. How quickly I adapted, gave in. That frightened me. Is this all it takes to lose my identity?

Twenty-three  days later, I’m on my way back. Yet I now need a walker, sometimes a wheelchair. The last three showers I’ve had a staff member doing much of the work. I’m contemplating a move to assisted living.

My sense of self has undergone a major transition. Independence is no longer a primary driver. Rather a focus now: my identity as a reader, a writer, a man of the arts. Less struggle with reality, more attention to core parts of who I am. Continuing and strengthening each precious relationship. Living for wonder, for awe. For a tactile spirituality.

I go home, not this weekend, but next Tuesday. Melissa will be there in the afternoon, ready to cook. Shadow will be there. Mary and Joseph, too. I’ll take a while to see how this feels from Shadow Mountain. I’ll decide my future later.

Family, Fourth Phase, Health, Shadow Mountain

Getting Buff

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Yesterday  I put pills in organizers as a test of my ability to manage my own meds. I passed.

Next I stood on plastic foam, spelling words with letters posted at random on the wall in front of me. Having to reach up and down to tap the letters tested my ability to balance. The plastic foam added to the difficulty. Hard.

Later I did squats, abductors, calf raises, leg extensions while standing. Wore me out.

O.T. and P. T. I feel good about my progress. We’ll see how it works at home.

Joe has several projects going. Checking on long term care insurance. Looking at assisted living places. Co-ordinating with Mt. Evans home health care. Finding out when I can restart my drug trial. Investigating a check engine light on Ruby.

Mary continues her clean up, spiff up work. She’s done so much. She came voluntarily and has stayed, steady, dogged. Familia.

 

 

 

 

 

Fourth Phase, Health, Shadow Mountain

Pulling My Head In

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Hot days in the mountains. Means scorchers down the hill. We can’t complain though when considering the heat dome and wildfire smoke that has troubled the east.

My room has remained in reasonable temperatures in spite of its morning sun exposure. I’m glad. Heat and I do not have a good relationship.

Waning days here at chez Life Care. Get as much therapy as possible. Going home. Each transition has had some level of anxiety for me. ICU to step down, step down to Life Care Center, now Life Care Center to home.

I’m still weak though I walk and move pretty well. Will continue rehab at home. How much my daily life will be affected I don’t know.

I’m grateful to so many for help over the last two weeks. Doctors. Nurses. Staff. Joe. Mary. Visitors. It takes a village, always.

I’ve not yet recovered from pulling my head all the way into my shell. Interacting with others has been hard, most of my ability to do that spent in encounters with medical and rehab folks. Little left over.

I will get back to my old routines. Maybe another week or so.

Fourth Phase, Health, Shadow Mountain

Changes

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Got into O.T. early yesterday. Forgot to write.

I’m in my last week at Life Care rehab. Go home Sunday. At that point Mt. Evans home-health care takes over. A lot less frequency.

Questions. Stay at home. What I prefer. Assisted living? Maybe. Shadow. The house. Not ready right now to answer these questions.

Life Care center rehab has been a good fit. Caring staff, close to home, decent rooms. A soft landing after I crashed and burned at St. Anthony’s E.R. Needed it.

A transformation of some kind is underway. What it will be I do not know. Stay tuned.

Family, Fourth Phase, Health, Mountains, Shadow Mountain

In Evergreen

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Located at Life Care Center Evergreen I’m only a short walk from Congregation Beth Evergreen. Elk often fill the driveway, mountains on the horizon outside my room. I love being in the mountains, near home, while I work rebuilding my strength.

Occupational therapy. Activities of daily living. Increasing standing stamina. Moving plastic cones from one spot to another. Using a hand crank machine to rebuild arm muscles. Learning ways to work around a stiff leg.

Physical therapy. Walking with the walker. Feel strong. More standing stamina. Using a device that makes me rotate left, then right.

Speech therapy. Cognition. Difficult word finds. How to make sure my voice can be heard.

In theory I’m eager to do each one because it moves me closer to home. In fact, due to fatigue I often find myself wanting to pass. Fatigue=low T, head drop strain on back, the cellular level hit my body took from the pneumonia. I tire quickly, find the work onerous instead of challenging.

Mary and Joseph (oh, Mary and Joseph. Ha.) have been so wonderful. Working on matters related to home coming. Cleaning. Finding things I need. Visiting. Being the buffer between home and my absence. So necessary right now.

Still unsure how this will all workout. A significant part of me wants a simpler, less demanding life. I feel that in my bones. Another significant part of me loves Shadow Mountain, my home. The memories.

Fourth Phase, Health, Shadow Mountain

Moving Parts

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Life Care Center: Evergreen, day 8

5:30 am:   Charlie. Charlie. I have your synthroid.

6:30 am: Have to get your vitals. Blood pressure. O2 saturation. Temperature. Heart rate. A brief whir. Contraction. Release.

In between I lay with my hands on my chest, eyes closed. Drifting. Sometimes considering nothing. Dozing off. Wondering about the purpose, the meaning of this end of the trail life. About family. Friends. Dogs. Mountains.

Breakfast. Biscuits and gravy. Scrambled eggs. Oatmeal. Pretty good.

Brittney stops by. Time for physical therapy. Needed.

Over now. The day stretches out ahead of me. Languid. Outside mountain summer heat builds.

What happens next? Return to Shadow Mountain. Assisted living. Unsure. Joe’s on it with Rich for the assist.

My feelings are in flux. Jettison the house. Keep the house. Be alone. Seek some help. What will I be physically capable of? Unclear.

Moving parts. So many.

Health

A Gift

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Getting back on the horse.

Or, the keyboard. Whatever.

Aiming for regular posts. Post ICU, post hospital. Back in the mountains. Near home.

Lots of life altering. Walking with a walker. Being pushed in a wheelchair. Having Joe, Mary, the grandkids coming to visit me.

One observation from the ICU/hospital experience. I registered in the emergency room. Infantilization began. Questions, lie down. EKG stickers on. Numbers. O2 80, How do you feel? Clothes off, hospital gown. CT scan. Back to the worried room.

A tussle over what to do right now. My agency slipped away and I became a patient with breathing issues. Infectious disease specialists take a day to identify streptococcal pneumonia. In and out of awareness in the dim lights of the ICU. Targeted antibiotics hit.

Gradual turn from death toward life. I missed most of the turn, only catching up to it in my hospital room, one step down from the ICU.

I’m grateful to so many whose kindness and expertise saw me through. A gift, this life, and it can be taken from us so fast.