Yesterday afternoon, we went back to Rehab. Unfortunately, things just started off on the wrong foot. The instant the wheelchair transport arrived at our house, Bob decided he had to pee. Now you only have a five minute window to get to the van, or the van will leave, so I told him he'd have to hold it until we got there, because he still didn't have his shoes on and I had to get him in the wheelchair etc. So, he's agitated and I'm a nervous wreck and the day has just started. We get to Rehab and I rush him into the bathroom and, of course, he can't go. His urologist has doubled his medication, and doubled it again, and, you know, some days it seems to be working and others it doesn't and we were dealing with one of those days.
So, we leave the bathroom because Bob wants to go out and have a cigarette... (I know-I know-I know, don't jump all over me. It's bad for him, but he has so few pleasures in life--can't eat, can't drink--and it calms him down. And it's just a few a day and like I said, it calms him down... And he wants to. What can I say?) Anyway, we go outside and the Rehab Center is in the middle of this large hospital complex and, of course, everywhere is a "NO SMOKING" area, clearly posted. Pretty much the only place you can smoke is in the middle of the street, in the hot 90 degree sun and I'm not about to do that. So we find a bench where the ground is literally covered with about a million cigarette butts, so I figure this is the place. While he's having his cigarette, this very large, very unpleasant woman comes by and snipes at us, "Don't you see the signs? This is a No Smoking area." I'm thinking it's just best to ignore her, most of the time someone like this will just say their piece and move on. I kind of glance at her and then at the ground, at the bazillion cigarette butts, figuring she'll move on. But she doesn't. She stands there, hands on her hips, and says "Can't you read the signs? If the security guard catches you, there's a fifty dollar fine." I'm thinking, yeah right. But she still doesn't move on, and it's clear she's waiting for a response, so I say, "Thanks for the information, now why don't you mind your own business?" She glares at me, then shouts, "I'm calling security!!!" and then she shuffles off into the building, and I'm thinking, oh crap, but then Bob is nearly done so I'm figuring that by the time she gets to a phone and security gets there, we'll be gone. About two second later, lo and behold, here comes the security guard. So I say to Bob, "here comes security, you better put that out," and he gives me a look that reads are you crazy? Because he only gets a few a day and he's determined to finish this one down to the last puff. The guard tells him to please put out his cigarette and Bob simply ignores her and I stall for time saying things like "Is there a place in the shade where one can smoke?" and "gee, you'd think there'd be a designated spot somewhere, especially for someone in a wheelchair," and "look at all these cigarette butts on the ground," etc. Finally, the guard leaves and Bob finishes his smoke and we go back into the building, back to the bathroom, to try again, and still he can't go.
By then, it's time for Bob's appointment and I am completely irritated (by the Smoking Nazi woman) and frustrated (by the bladder problem) and freaking out because today is D-Day with Rehab and so much is at stake and so far, everything is going wrong. We are in the waiting room and Bob is just red-faced agitated and keeps pointing at his crotch (a gesture he makes when he needs to go to the bathroom) and I get up and ask the receptionist if I can take Bob into the therapy room and use the bathroom there. She says "sure", so I wheel him into therapy, straight-a-way into the bathroom and we pass his regular therapist, who is just then coming out to get us, and I tell him that we need to make a pit stop first. So there we are again, in the bathroom, and Bob can't go. The clock is ticking. Five minutes pass, then ten minutes. I finally say to Bob that we can't spend the whole therapy session in the bathroom, we need to get going and he screams, literally screams: GAAAAAA! But, he does hand over the urinal and I help him get his pants back on and wheel him out, all the while, just dreading whatever is to come next.
We come out into the therapy room and I see Bob's therapist, with his back to us, waiting at the receptionist's desk. The parallel bars are at the front of the room, near the receptionist, so I wheel Bob over to them. As we approach, I can hear the therapist and the receptionist talking and the receptionist is saying "He really did!" and she sees us coming and looks at me and says, "I was just telling him that Bob stood up on his own with Chris on Thursday! And I saw it! Isn't that right?" The receptionist is all excited and the therapist is looking confused, so I say, "Yes, that's right, he did. I think it was four times, total." The receptionist says, "See, I told you so!" The therapist looks like he can't believe it and grabs Bob's chart and starts flipping through it, evidently looking for Chris's notes.
After awhile, the therapist comes over, wheels Bob into the parallel bars and says, "OK, Bob, show me your stuff." Then, he stands back, waiting. I'm holding breath, because this is the moment, and can Bob do it? Bob is still red-faced and agitated and uncomfortable from not being able to urinate, but he grabs onto the parallel bar with his left hand and starts to try to get up, and I realize, oh no, he's leaning backward! So, I lean over and remind him "nose over your toes, remember?" and he readjusts himself and then I can see him mouthing "one, two, three" and up he goes! He does it, again! The therapist says, "Wow." A real understated "wow." No exclamation point.
The therapist sits down on the stool. They usually sit on this stool with wheels in front of Bob and usually, the therapist will hold onto Bob while he walks the bars, the therapist sort of pushing the stool backward as they go. But the therapist just sits there, not touching Bob, just sort of looking at Bob standing there and then, he says, "Well. Let's see if you can walk."
So Bob starts out, slowly, one foot in front of the other, holding onto the bar but without anyone holding onto him. Believe me, I am holding my breath the whole time because this is something new. He's never done this before. And he makes it! The whole length of the bars, without any help at all. He does this not once, not twice, but four times. Then, the therapist gets out the shopping cart. And Bob is able to push the cart twenty-five feet, the first time and twenty feet, the second time. Of course, two people are holding onto him, but he does much better this time then he did the last time.
Of course, I am just thrilled. So I ask if this means that Bob can continue his therapy now? That's when I'm told that it's all up to the other therapist, the female therapist, who has already written up the discharge papers. And she's not there today. And there's really nothing that he can do, because it's out of his hands and the paperwork is already done....
But he said that he would talk to her and see if she'll change her mind. He said, "I know your life depends on this decision, you've got so much riding on this." But he can't make any promises, because it's her decision and not his. And he doesn't know if the paperwork has been processed through the insurance or not and if it has, can it be undone?... So, that's where we stand.
We left Rehab and got on the wheelchair transport to go home. Pat is our usual transport driver, he's a real sweetheart, and has heard my rendition of our continuing saga each time he picks us up. Pat asked how it went and if Bob can continue his therapy and I told him the whole story and how the decision is in one therapist's hands. So Pat says, "well, Diane, I guess you need to go home and bake her a cake!" and I sort of laugh and he says, "Make that two cakes, identical, but one with cyanide in it, just in case."
We had a good laugh about that.
Bob's next appointment is Wednesday and his "last scheduled appointment" is Thursday.
Stay tuned....
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Day of Reckoning
Well, this is it. Today, we go back to Rehab and find out if Bob's performance on Thursday with Chris has made a difference in their discharge decision--or not. I am nervous. The last couple of days, we have tried to get Bob up and standing from the wheelchair without luck. For some reason, with the exception of twice on Friday, he just couldn't do it.... And then the bladder problems have come back with a vengeance. Just when I thought that problem was clearing up. Some days, it seems like we just can't win.
Boomer and I went back to see Our Lady of Lourdes this morning. Said another prayer and snapped this photo to share with you. It truly is a beautiful place.
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| Our Lady of Lourdes Built 1936 (click to enlarge) |
Saturday, July 9, 2011
An Angel At Rehab
My Aunt Pauline believes in angels. This is no secret. She collects angels (figurines, pictures and such) and often gives them as gifts. When Bob was still in ICU, back in October, and things were very touch-and-go, my mother and father rushed down to be with me and brought along with them my Aunt and Uncle. While they were here, Aunt Pauline gave me a little framed picture of an angel with the caption and saying called "Angels Are Everywhere" which has a magnet on the back and has since acquired a spot of honor on our refrigerator door.
After our last therapy session, I think Aunt Pauline might be onto something.
We went back to Rehab on Thursday, and after the "no functional improvement" session, I was armed with a million questions and a tape measure (to measure the height the bars, in case I need to put a grab bar in the hallway). I wanted to ask the therapists if Bob needed a better knee brace, if he could have another go at the ARJO walker, and a bunch of other things when the door swings open and Bob's usual therapist is not there, instead he has a substitute. And I'm thinking, oh dear, I won't get my questions answered because this therapist is "out of the loop" so to speak, and doesn't know what's going on.
So the therapist takes Bob to bars and starts him out. We've had this therapist maybe 2 or 3 times before, when the regular ones are not available for whatever reason. The therapist gets Bob started and I can tell, he's delighted in Bob's progress. He hasn't worked with Bob for over a month and tells Bob that he is amazed at his improvement. "We'll have you walking before you know it," he says and I pipe up and tell him that Bob is about to be discharged.
The therapist can't believe this news. He asks if it's because the insurance has run out. I tell him that I don't think it's the insurance, it's because the regular therapists see "no functional improvement." I mention the fact that Bob can't even stand up from the wheelchair without help. And this gets Chris, the substitute, thinking. Then he says, "I know what the problem is, Bob, you're leaning backwards. You're way too far backward." He goes on to explain that he sees this a lot with stroke survivors, that they are afraid of falling forward and tend to overcompensate by leaning too far backward. They do this while trying to get up, but also while walking. And I'm thinking, what? No one has mentioned this before. And Chris goes on to demonstrate, by sitting on a chair and leaning a bit backward and showing how difficult it is to get up from that position. He tells Bob, "You have to lean forward, way forward, so forward it will seem awkward at first, but put your nose over your toes."
I can tell, Bob is afraid to try this. But Chris keeps prodding him along: "Put your nose over your toes. Believe me, this will work. You can do it, Bob! I know you can do it!" Along with assuring Bob that he wouldn't let him fall. So Bob leans over, as far as he can, with "his nose over his toes", and he grabs onto the parallel bar and, dammit, if he doesn't begin to rise up from that wheelchair. Slowly and with much shakiness, but he does it. I mean, he really did it! Bob got up from the wheelchair on his own two feet! He stood up without any assistance at all!!
This is nothing short of a miracle.
And who would have thought it would be such a simple trick as leaning forward? And all this time, the other therapists have been lifting him out of the wheelchair, pulling him up with the gait belt (me included).....
Bob spent the whole session, 45 minutes, working with Chris on the parallel bars. He walked the length of the bars 7-8 times (I lost count, he usually can only manage 5 times) and stood up the last four times on his own!
And so yesterday, at home, I got out the straight legged walker and placed it by the side of Bob's hospital bed and, from the edge of the bed, Bob was able to stand up, on his own, twice! With no help from me, except I steadied the walker. (Although the other two times we tried this, he fell backward onto the bed. Oh well... Practice makes perfect, right?)
We are going to work on this technique this weekend. I hope, that on Monday, Bob will be able to wow the regular therapists by standing up from his wheelchair all on his own. And I ask you? Is that not "functional improvement"? And, of course, I am praying this will be the thing that will keep him therapy for a little while longer.
And I know my Aunt Pauline doesn't have a computer, so she doesn't read my blog. But anyone reading this who knows her, please tell her that Diane said she's right. Angels are indeed everywhere. And I believe we just ran into one last week at Rehab.
And heck, maybe Boomer and I need to visit the Our Lady of Lourdes shrine a bit more often. Perhaps Plan A is working.....
After our last therapy session, I think Aunt Pauline might be onto something.
We went back to Rehab on Thursday, and after the "no functional improvement" session, I was armed with a million questions and a tape measure (to measure the height the bars, in case I need to put a grab bar in the hallway). I wanted to ask the therapists if Bob needed a better knee brace, if he could have another go at the ARJO walker, and a bunch of other things when the door swings open and Bob's usual therapist is not there, instead he has a substitute. And I'm thinking, oh dear, I won't get my questions answered because this therapist is "out of the loop" so to speak, and doesn't know what's going on.
So the therapist takes Bob to bars and starts him out. We've had this therapist maybe 2 or 3 times before, when the regular ones are not available for whatever reason. The therapist gets Bob started and I can tell, he's delighted in Bob's progress. He hasn't worked with Bob for over a month and tells Bob that he is amazed at his improvement. "We'll have you walking before you know it," he says and I pipe up and tell him that Bob is about to be discharged.
The therapist can't believe this news. He asks if it's because the insurance has run out. I tell him that I don't think it's the insurance, it's because the regular therapists see "no functional improvement." I mention the fact that Bob can't even stand up from the wheelchair without help. And this gets Chris, the substitute, thinking. Then he says, "I know what the problem is, Bob, you're leaning backwards. You're way too far backward." He goes on to explain that he sees this a lot with stroke survivors, that they are afraid of falling forward and tend to overcompensate by leaning too far backward. They do this while trying to get up, but also while walking. And I'm thinking, what? No one has mentioned this before. And Chris goes on to demonstrate, by sitting on a chair and leaning a bit backward and showing how difficult it is to get up from that position. He tells Bob, "You have to lean forward, way forward, so forward it will seem awkward at first, but put your nose over your toes."
I can tell, Bob is afraid to try this. But Chris keeps prodding him along: "Put your nose over your toes. Believe me, this will work. You can do it, Bob! I know you can do it!" Along with assuring Bob that he wouldn't let him fall. So Bob leans over, as far as he can, with "his nose over his toes", and he grabs onto the parallel bar and, dammit, if he doesn't begin to rise up from that wheelchair. Slowly and with much shakiness, but he does it. I mean, he really did it! Bob got up from the wheelchair on his own two feet! He stood up without any assistance at all!!
This is nothing short of a miracle.
And who would have thought it would be such a simple trick as leaning forward? And all this time, the other therapists have been lifting him out of the wheelchair, pulling him up with the gait belt (me included).....
Bob spent the whole session, 45 minutes, working with Chris on the parallel bars. He walked the length of the bars 7-8 times (I lost count, he usually can only manage 5 times) and stood up the last four times on his own!
And so yesterday, at home, I got out the straight legged walker and placed it by the side of Bob's hospital bed and, from the edge of the bed, Bob was able to stand up, on his own, twice! With no help from me, except I steadied the walker. (Although the other two times we tried this, he fell backward onto the bed. Oh well... Practice makes perfect, right?)
We are going to work on this technique this weekend. I hope, that on Monday, Bob will be able to wow the regular therapists by standing up from his wheelchair all on his own. And I ask you? Is that not "functional improvement"? And, of course, I am praying this will be the thing that will keep him therapy for a little while longer.
And I know my Aunt Pauline doesn't have a computer, so she doesn't read my blog. But anyone reading this who knows her, please tell her that Diane said she's right. Angels are indeed everywhere. And I believe we just ran into one last week at Rehab.
And heck, maybe Boomer and I need to visit the Our Lady of Lourdes shrine a bit more often. Perhaps Plan A is working.....
Thursday, July 7, 2011
"No Functional Improvement"
Well, that's the verdict. Rehab says "get ready for discharge". Bob is showing "no functional improvement" so he's being cast out. He's flunked, if you will. One more week of therapy and that's it: this is the end, my friend.
Wow. Even though I was half-expecting this, I still cannot believe it's happened. Around here, everyone is talking about the big Casey Anthony trial in Orlando, but it feels like this week it's been Bob on trial. And the verdict is not so good. His sentence: LIFE in a wheelchair.
And where does that leave us? Bob still can't lift his own butt out of the wheelchair, he has to be lifted. He can only stand hanging onto a bar. He can walk in the parallel bars, but not outside of them and even then, someone has to catch his right foot when he places it wrong. He can't even sit up at the edge of the bed, I have to pull him up and then, once sitting, he begins to wobble and I have to steady him.... And we still have to use the slide-board to transfer him from bed to wheelchair and vice versa. And I just can't believe he's being discharged from therapy like this---I mean, I never expected this, when he started Rehab I figured he'd at least be hobbling around a bit with a walker or something before they discharged him....
So once again, it's all on my shoulders. And I've been going back and forth (in my mind) trying to figure out the next step. Couldn't sleep at all last night, my mind reeling: What to do? What to do? Because, you know, I'm not about to give up. So, screw the therapists! They might have the practical know-how and the experience and equipment, but I've got one thing over them: I love this guy!
So, I'm thinking I need a plan. Here's what I've come up with so far:
Plan A: Pray for a miracle. That Bob will rally 'round and show them some "functional improvement" in the next four sessions. OK, this is a long shot, but miracles have happened to him before.
Plan B: Take a bit of a break from therapy and see his doctor next month. Maybe we can go to a different rehab center? (Will the insurance allow this? God only knows. But I'm told that folks some times "take a break" and return to therapy, so there must be a way to do this...)
Plan C: Turn the Pink House into Bob's personal gym. Easier said than done. Especially with no cash to speak of.... But I'm thinking, for starters, that maybe I can get a grab bar installed along the wall in the hallway and Bob can hang onto that for walking practice. This is a bit scary, as what happens if he falls? At Rehab, they always have two people there for him and I, of course, am only one person.....
So back to Plan A. I walked Boomer early this morning and we took a little detour and paid a visit to the Our Lady of Lourdes shrine behind a Catholic church near our neighborhood. There, I said a little prayer for a miracle.
What can I say?
Wow. Even though I was half-expecting this, I still cannot believe it's happened. Around here, everyone is talking about the big Casey Anthony trial in Orlando, but it feels like this week it's been Bob on trial. And the verdict is not so good. His sentence: LIFE in a wheelchair.
And where does that leave us? Bob still can't lift his own butt out of the wheelchair, he has to be lifted. He can only stand hanging onto a bar. He can walk in the parallel bars, but not outside of them and even then, someone has to catch his right foot when he places it wrong. He can't even sit up at the edge of the bed, I have to pull him up and then, once sitting, he begins to wobble and I have to steady him.... And we still have to use the slide-board to transfer him from bed to wheelchair and vice versa. And I just can't believe he's being discharged from therapy like this---I mean, I never expected this, when he started Rehab I figured he'd at least be hobbling around a bit with a walker or something before they discharged him....
So once again, it's all on my shoulders. And I've been going back and forth (in my mind) trying to figure out the next step. Couldn't sleep at all last night, my mind reeling: What to do? What to do? Because, you know, I'm not about to give up. So, screw the therapists! They might have the practical know-how and the experience and equipment, but I've got one thing over them: I love this guy!
So, I'm thinking I need a plan. Here's what I've come up with so far:
Plan A: Pray for a miracle. That Bob will rally 'round and show them some "functional improvement" in the next four sessions. OK, this is a long shot, but miracles have happened to him before.
Plan B: Take a bit of a break from therapy and see his doctor next month. Maybe we can go to a different rehab center? (Will the insurance allow this? God only knows. But I'm told that folks some times "take a break" and return to therapy, so there must be a way to do this...)
Plan C: Turn the Pink House into Bob's personal gym. Easier said than done. Especially with no cash to speak of.... But I'm thinking, for starters, that maybe I can get a grab bar installed along the wall in the hallway and Bob can hang onto that for walking practice. This is a bit scary, as what happens if he falls? At Rehab, they always have two people there for him and I, of course, am only one person.....
So back to Plan A. I walked Boomer early this morning and we took a little detour and paid a visit to the Our Lady of Lourdes shrine behind a Catholic church near our neighborhood. There, I said a little prayer for a miracle.
What can I say?
Monday, July 4, 2011
Stand By Your Man
For the past three days, we've been working on leg exercises and standing practice. Whew! I am beat and only can imagine that Bob is beat, too. This regimen of ours takes all afternoon because Bob is slow and, of course, bathroom breaks... So, pretty much all other therapies flew out the window with the exception of mirror therapy (I have him do this while I give him a tube feeding, which takes about 15 minutes, a sort of multi-tasking here) and a pudding cup for swallow practice while I eat my supper.
Standing is a terrible ordeal. The problem here is that Bob is so weak he cannot get up out of the wheelchair to his feet, so he has to be pulled up. At Rehab, it takes two people to do this or one big strong guy. And me? I'm 5'4" and he's 6'3" and weighs about 185 lbs. and even with a gait belt (which has to be worn under his armpits because of the peg tube), I am stretched to the max trying to pull him upwards (over my head!). We manage to accomplish this using a straight legged walker braced against the footboard of his hospital bed, the wheelchair pushed snug against this and then it's 1,2,3 and Bob pushes and I pull until he's on his feet. Once he's up, he pretty much can hold himself up without help, but even then I can tell he's leaning too far to the left, not putting weight on his right leg like he should. Sort of standing one-legged while I stand next to him, holding onto his gait belt in case he falls, and reminding him to put weight on that right leg and clocking him with my watch. Our record this weekend is 3 minutes and 20 seconds.
But I can tell you, my legs and arms are sore and stiff this morning. My back's not doing so great either.
And of course I will not say a word about our difficulties to the therapists. I have learned that anything you say "can and will be held against you". And Bob doesn't need any more strikes on his progress report. It's a sad thing when the people who are supposed to be there to help seem like the enemy....
Bob has two more scheduled weeks of PT before another dreaded evaluation. But today I am tired and worn out from all that standing and really thinking a day of Scrabble therapy sounds pretty darn good....
Standing is a terrible ordeal. The problem here is that Bob is so weak he cannot get up out of the wheelchair to his feet, so he has to be pulled up. At Rehab, it takes two people to do this or one big strong guy. And me? I'm 5'4" and he's 6'3" and weighs about 185 lbs. and even with a gait belt (which has to be worn under his armpits because of the peg tube), I am stretched to the max trying to pull him upwards (over my head!). We manage to accomplish this using a straight legged walker braced against the footboard of his hospital bed, the wheelchair pushed snug against this and then it's 1,2,3 and Bob pushes and I pull until he's on his feet. Once he's up, he pretty much can hold himself up without help, but even then I can tell he's leaning too far to the left, not putting weight on his right leg like he should. Sort of standing one-legged while I stand next to him, holding onto his gait belt in case he falls, and reminding him to put weight on that right leg and clocking him with my watch. Our record this weekend is 3 minutes and 20 seconds.
But I can tell you, my legs and arms are sore and stiff this morning. My back's not doing so great either.
And of course I will not say a word about our difficulties to the therapists. I have learned that anything you say "can and will be held against you". And Bob doesn't need any more strikes on his progress report. It's a sad thing when the people who are supposed to be there to help seem like the enemy....
Bob has two more scheduled weeks of PT before another dreaded evaluation. But today I am tired and worn out from all that standing and really thinking a day of Scrabble therapy sounds pretty darn good....
Friday, July 1, 2011
Mixed Messages At PT
Just when you think at least one thing is going good, someone drops a bomb and your little bubble bursts. This is how I'm feeling after yesterday's physical therapy session.
Bob works with three different physical therapists at PT. Two of them are guys and the third, a woman. I am always happy when he's scheduled with one of the guys, because Bob just seems more motivated and comfortable with them and, all around, it seems there is better rapport. Bob calls his favorite male therapist "Meanie", this being said with a fake scowling face whenever the therapist asks him do something, and is always followed by hoots of laughter and a lot of joking back and forth.
This week at Rehab, Bob was scheduled with "Meanie" on Monday and Wednesday. Meanie kept Bob in the parallel bars and at one point the female therapist stopped by to watch and then asked why they weren't using the ARJO to which Meanie replied "I get more work out of him this way." On Wednesday, Meanie seemed quite delighted with Bob's progress, told me Bob's "step quality" was "greatly improved" and also that Bob has started to "self correct" meaning that when Bob's foot falls the wrong way, he is sometimes able to realign it without the therapist's help. He told me, "I've never seen him walking so good!"
So, I'm feeling rather pleased about this. After all, at least one of the therapies is going well! Then came Thursday and Bob was scheduled with the female therapist.
It's no secret that the female therapist wants Bob "out of the bars". This seems to be her mantra lately, i.e. "You can't live your life in the parallel bars," "you won't have bars when you get home", etc. etc. So on Thursday, the therapist brings out the shopping cart. Now this is actually a real shopping cart, in fact it says Walgreens on the handle. So, imagine one of those small drug store shopping carts laden with weights to give it stability. The idea here is that Bob was to push the cart slowly across the room with a therapist on each side of him to keep him steady. I was, again, called into duty pushing the wheelchair behind them.
So, off they went, Bob pushing the shopping cart. Then, his right knee began to buckle. He hasn't had a problem with knee buckling for a couple of weeks, but there it was. The therapist had to brace his knee with her leg, but still they continued on this slow shopping cart trek across the room. At one point, Bob was asked if he wanted to stop but he said "no". I think he pushed that cart about 30 feet, which I thought was pretty good. Then he sat down, exhausted. The therapist said that was enough for today, but Bob indicated (by pointing) that he wanted to work out on the bars. So, we rolled over to the bars and Bob got up and walked the length of the bars, four times. I could tell he was very tired from the trek with the shopping cart. After his fourth turn on the bars, she let him rest. As he was resting, she began her mantra once again, "you can't live your life on the bars," etc. So I piped up and said I thought he did pretty good with the shopping cart, I mean, he really went a long way. She told me that the problem was that they were holding him up the whole time and if the therapists hadn't been holding him up, he would have collapsed. So I asked what she thought the problem might be, his balance? or what? and if there was some type of exercise we could do at home to improve that? But she said that "unfortunately" it seems that it's Bob's "whole right side" that's the problem and he's just "too weak" and really, "it's amazing" that he's gotten as far as he's gotten, but now he's "hit the wall" and he's probably not going to go any further than this.
And I'm thinking: oh shit. Because the female therapist is the one who is "in charge", I mean, she's the one who does the evaluations and pretty much is in control of continuing Bob's therapy, or not...
As we were talking, Bob was certainly listening to all this, because he grabbed onto the bar and started to pull himself up again. I think just to show her that he wasn't giving up. She freaked out, because she wasn't ready for him to get up again, and ran to assist him. And he walked another full length of the bars... Just to show her. Even though he was exhausted.
She said, "well, it's not for lack of trying."
And I asked her, again, what we can do at home to improve this problem? She told me that the only thing we could do is practice standing, get some weight bearing on his right leg.
So, this weekend, while everyone else is enjoying the 4th of July, think of us. Because, damn it, screw the other therapies, I'm going try to get him up and standing as much as I can (which will be no small feat, because Bob really hates "standing practice").....
Bob works with three different physical therapists at PT. Two of them are guys and the third, a woman. I am always happy when he's scheduled with one of the guys, because Bob just seems more motivated and comfortable with them and, all around, it seems there is better rapport. Bob calls his favorite male therapist "Meanie", this being said with a fake scowling face whenever the therapist asks him do something, and is always followed by hoots of laughter and a lot of joking back and forth.
This week at Rehab, Bob was scheduled with "Meanie" on Monday and Wednesday. Meanie kept Bob in the parallel bars and at one point the female therapist stopped by to watch and then asked why they weren't using the ARJO to which Meanie replied "I get more work out of him this way." On Wednesday, Meanie seemed quite delighted with Bob's progress, told me Bob's "step quality" was "greatly improved" and also that Bob has started to "self correct" meaning that when Bob's foot falls the wrong way, he is sometimes able to realign it without the therapist's help. He told me, "I've never seen him walking so good!"
So, I'm feeling rather pleased about this. After all, at least one of the therapies is going well! Then came Thursday and Bob was scheduled with the female therapist.
It's no secret that the female therapist wants Bob "out of the bars". This seems to be her mantra lately, i.e. "You can't live your life in the parallel bars," "you won't have bars when you get home", etc. etc. So on Thursday, the therapist brings out the shopping cart. Now this is actually a real shopping cart, in fact it says Walgreens on the handle. So, imagine one of those small drug store shopping carts laden with weights to give it stability. The idea here is that Bob was to push the cart slowly across the room with a therapist on each side of him to keep him steady. I was, again, called into duty pushing the wheelchair behind them.
So, off they went, Bob pushing the shopping cart. Then, his right knee began to buckle. He hasn't had a problem with knee buckling for a couple of weeks, but there it was. The therapist had to brace his knee with her leg, but still they continued on this slow shopping cart trek across the room. At one point, Bob was asked if he wanted to stop but he said "no". I think he pushed that cart about 30 feet, which I thought was pretty good. Then he sat down, exhausted. The therapist said that was enough for today, but Bob indicated (by pointing) that he wanted to work out on the bars. So, we rolled over to the bars and Bob got up and walked the length of the bars, four times. I could tell he was very tired from the trek with the shopping cart. After his fourth turn on the bars, she let him rest. As he was resting, she began her mantra once again, "you can't live your life on the bars," etc. So I piped up and said I thought he did pretty good with the shopping cart, I mean, he really went a long way. She told me that the problem was that they were holding him up the whole time and if the therapists hadn't been holding him up, he would have collapsed. So I asked what she thought the problem might be, his balance? or what? and if there was some type of exercise we could do at home to improve that? But she said that "unfortunately" it seems that it's Bob's "whole right side" that's the problem and he's just "too weak" and really, "it's amazing" that he's gotten as far as he's gotten, but now he's "hit the wall" and he's probably not going to go any further than this.
And I'm thinking: oh shit. Because the female therapist is the one who is "in charge", I mean, she's the one who does the evaluations and pretty much is in control of continuing Bob's therapy, or not...
As we were talking, Bob was certainly listening to all this, because he grabbed onto the bar and started to pull himself up again. I think just to show her that he wasn't giving up. She freaked out, because she wasn't ready for him to get up again, and ran to assist him. And he walked another full length of the bars... Just to show her. Even though he was exhausted.
She said, "well, it's not for lack of trying."
And I asked her, again, what we can do at home to improve this problem? She told me that the only thing we could do is practice standing, get some weight bearing on his right leg.
So, this weekend, while everyone else is enjoying the 4th of July, think of us. Because, damn it, screw the other therapies, I'm going try to get him up and standing as much as I can (which will be no small feat, because Bob really hates "standing practice").....
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