June 26, 2006
The skin nurse came in this morning from her weekend off and checked Gary’s flap. She told him I’d done a great job with the silver nitrate and such. That was a huge relief, as it had made me a little nervous to be “in charge” of the various procedures involved in his flap care.
This morning after the OT helped Gary transfer from his chair to the mat and put him in a stretch, she said she had something for him to sign. She left to get it, and as Gary laid there flat on his back with his left foot crossed his right thigh, I joked that he was in no position to refuse to sign anything. “Ve haf our vays,” Gary said. I said her way would only have to be to leave him there on the mat until he signed, as at this point it would be impossible for him and me to get him back in his chair.
Fortunately all she wanted him to sign was his therapy goal sheet, and she ran down the list with us. Among the items: assisted coughing (him learning how to tell someone else how to help him cough if he ever needs it); bed mobility (rolling and turning in bed); wheelchair management (learning how to take the wheels off and put them on; where to take the chair if it breaks); range of motion (doing as many of the stretches on his own as he can); eight hours of proning; skin care (him checking everything he can see, me checking the rest); special instructions related to the care of his flap; depression weight shift for one minute (which he can do, but it takes its toll so he needs to work on his endurance); side to side weight shift without leaning on something (at this point he needs to lean his arm on something like a chair); depression transfer to/from chair, mat, car, bed, bathroom equipment; activities of daily living (bathing, drying what he can reach (I’ll do the rest), dressing what he can reach (I’ll do the rest)); balance training, which will assist with the attainment of many of these other goals; bladder training; bowel training; equipment knowledge (what he’s getting, who the vendors are, who to contact if there are any problems (there will be one person at United Seated Mobility who is responsible for coordinating the purchase of all of Gary’s equipment, and he will be the person Gary would contact if there are any problems)); strengthening the upper body; family training (i.e., my training, and that is ongoing); van evaluation.
After taking care of that paperwork, Gary then practiced skills needed for turning in bed and placing a pillow between his knees. The OT had him balance up on an elbow while in a side-lying position. From that position she had him reach to the front and back while holding a dumbbell at arm’s length. Then she had him practice moving his legs around while in that position, then sticking a pillow between his knees (we’re still not sure what is to be done about padding the ankles). For some reason he was much better at all of this than he was last Friday. The OT asked him what the difference was. He said it was because he’d had the weekend to rest. We laughed.
The PT took over and had him maneuver around the mat – moving his legs, sitting up. Again, he did much better than last Friday. They then went through his stretches, the goal being for him to do as many as possible with only the assistance of the chain loops, not another human. She thought it might be possible that he’ll get flexible enough that he can eventually do all the stretches on his own.
Next he practiced opening various doors by himself – he did great. Since we’d told her that he had trouble with the ramps last weekend, we went to the garden ramp. She watched him attempt going up the ramp and gave him tips. It turned out that by leaning farther forward in his seat (his chest strap firmly in place), he accomplished the feat much more smoothly – no wheelies.
Therapy sessions over, we went back to his room. He pointed out how some nurse had written “G. Man Gruenhage” on one of his supplies. As you might suspect, everyone who’s been involved in his care has mispronounced his last name when they come in and introduced themselves. He’d then always told them to call him “Gary.” Some of them call him “Mr. G.” But he rather liked this new designation of “G. Man Gruenhage,” so when a new supply item came in a short time later, I wrote that on it in magic marker to make him laugh.
I’m not sure what he’d think if people in the math department started calling him that, though ;-)
After lunch he had another therapy session, this time with his tech. They started out with “the rickshaw exerciser” (see http://www.wisdomking.com/product17194c90020.html for a picture) which “develops the specific arm and shoulder muscle groups used for transfer in and out of a wheelchair.” Then she helped him transfer to the mat and they went through his stretches again. For some reason everything is much more awkward with this tech. She makes me neurotic – I always have the urge to question her about every little thing.
Maybe I should have questioned her about one thing though – at one point she moved Gary’s legs for him in such a way that he fell back onto the mat and hit his head hard. I could see it in his face that that had hurt, and once again I felt like bursting out with “Just leave him alone.” Gary told me later these things were bound to happen; I told him I just didn’t like seeing them happen to him. He said be prepared, because there will no doubt come the time when we have to call 911 to get him back in his chair, since he won’t be allowed to even attempt such a skill until his flap is healed and I certainly can’t lift him back into his chair.
Anyway, back to the session. He was supposed to practice wheelies with her, but fortunately we ran out of time – I don’t think I could have taken having her balance him backwards on his chair without his tip bars in place ;-)
We made our escape, going back to his room so he could have some of his protein drink, and then we went back out to the parking garage so I could get some bottled water from the car. He practiced his door opening, then said, “See ya,” and zoomed down the ramp. We met down by the car. On the way back to his room he practiced going up the ramp that had given him particular problems yesterday. He still couldn’t get up it by himself, even with leaning over, so I had to help. I asked him what he thought the solution for that problem was. He said, “To get stronger.”
Back in the room, we prepared to give him a haircut. I laid a sheet down in the bathroom connected to his four-man room, he wheeled over that sheet, and then I put another sheet around him. I then discovered he wanted *me* to cut his hair. I thought he was crazy, and told him I couldn’t – he should do it. He insisted I could do it. So I used the trimmer on his electric razor, and after he showed me a little of how he did it, I attempted it and thought I did the sides fairly decently. I started on the back and had it going pretty good, but when I was nearly finished he decided to take some scissors and do more with the front of his hair. This was a mistake because he moved his head just as I was finishing shaping the back of his hair, and because of that movement I removed about an inch of hair at the bottom of the very back of his head (it could have been worse, I suppose – I could have cut a hunk from the middle). Of course, that meant I had to trim the rest of it to that length, and I don’t think it looks that great now – it looked much better before that little disaster. Fortunately, he can’t see it ;-), and more fortunately, it’ll grow back. The PT came around later, and looking at him from behind, told him “Great haircut.” I scrutinized her to see if she was being sarcastic, but she didn’t seem to be. However, I suspect she was being kind.
Anyway, if you see him and think the back of his hair looks strange, you now know the reason.
The reason the PT had come was to ask if Gary had any pain. He told her he had that “line of discomfort,” but that it was never really painful. He told her he’d asked his doctor about it, and his doctor had said it was common – in fact, he said he himself had experienced the same sort of thing for several months after his own accident, but that it had gone away. The doctor also said that if it did become painful, that there were medicines for it, but that it was best to avoid taking them if possible because of the side effects.
Mail call. Thanks to Michel Smith, Norma Kramer, Mark and Dottie Meschke, and Bruce Noda. As always, each piece of mail and email we get means so much to us. Just taking today as an example, getting mail from Michel reminds us of how supportive he and the math department have been; the letter from Norma reminds us of the love of our families; Mark is a childhood friend of Gary’s, Bruce is a friend of Gary’s from his graduate school day, and their letters bring home to me how many people Gary’s life has touched.
And also how many other lives have touched Gary’s. Bruce mentioned in his letter that another memorial for Gary’s good friend Ward will be held at the end of July and said if Gary liked, he could compose something to be read during it. Ward died a couple of weeks after Gary’s accident. When I’d first learned of it, I hadn’t been sure whether or not to pass the news on to Gary – he wasn’t in such great shape himself, and as he couldn’t speak, I wasn’t sure how fragile his psychology was. But since Gary had asked me several times if I’d heard any news of Ward, I decided to pass the news on, telling him I wasn’t sure I should be doing so. The news of Ward deeply affected him – it still does – but he said he preferred to know.
He is going to compose something for that memorial. And he is now at the point where he feels up to getting on the internet and looking at some of his email for a short time. I’m sure he’ll be talking some math with people in the near future. We take these as further signs of his progress in healing.
Norma, to reply to your letter, I have no idea if “Hell Explained By Chemistry Student” really happened or if it is an urban legend. At the least, it gave some of us a big laugh. If the story is true, it is amazing the person could come up with it during the heat of an exam – I wish I were clever enough to come up with something like that at all!
My subconscious has it’s own definition of hell – or maybe it’s not so subconscious. I had a dream the other night, in which I couldn’t get checked out of a hotel, though I’d been trying to do so for several days. The desk clerk finally told me that no one ever left the hotel; once you came, you were executed shortly thereafter. Reminded me of the roach motel commercials. Or Hotel California. Or the fact that I’ve been living in hotels/apartments for over ten weeks now, and maybe sometimes it seems like that will never end!
All for now.
The skin nurse came in this morning from her weekend off and checked Gary’s flap. She told him I’d done a great job with the silver nitrate and such. That was a huge relief, as it had made me a little nervous to be “in charge” of the various procedures involved in his flap care.
This morning after the OT helped Gary transfer from his chair to the mat and put him in a stretch, she said she had something for him to sign. She left to get it, and as Gary laid there flat on his back with his left foot crossed his right thigh, I joked that he was in no position to refuse to sign anything. “Ve haf our vays,” Gary said. I said her way would only have to be to leave him there on the mat until he signed, as at this point it would be impossible for him and me to get him back in his chair.
Fortunately all she wanted him to sign was his therapy goal sheet, and she ran down the list with us. Among the items: assisted coughing (him learning how to tell someone else how to help him cough if he ever needs it); bed mobility (rolling and turning in bed); wheelchair management (learning how to take the wheels off and put them on; where to take the chair if it breaks); range of motion (doing as many of the stretches on his own as he can); eight hours of proning; skin care (him checking everything he can see, me checking the rest); special instructions related to the care of his flap; depression weight shift for one minute (which he can do, but it takes its toll so he needs to work on his endurance); side to side weight shift without leaning on something (at this point he needs to lean his arm on something like a chair); depression transfer to/from chair, mat, car, bed, bathroom equipment; activities of daily living (bathing, drying what he can reach (I’ll do the rest), dressing what he can reach (I’ll do the rest)); balance training, which will assist with the attainment of many of these other goals; bladder training; bowel training; equipment knowledge (what he’s getting, who the vendors are, who to contact if there are any problems (there will be one person at United Seated Mobility who is responsible for coordinating the purchase of all of Gary’s equipment, and he will be the person Gary would contact if there are any problems)); strengthening the upper body; family training (i.e., my training, and that is ongoing); van evaluation.
After taking care of that paperwork, Gary then practiced skills needed for turning in bed and placing a pillow between his knees. The OT had him balance up on an elbow while in a side-lying position. From that position she had him reach to the front and back while holding a dumbbell at arm’s length. Then she had him practice moving his legs around while in that position, then sticking a pillow between his knees (we’re still not sure what is to be done about padding the ankles). For some reason he was much better at all of this than he was last Friday. The OT asked him what the difference was. He said it was because he’d had the weekend to rest. We laughed.
The PT took over and had him maneuver around the mat – moving his legs, sitting up. Again, he did much better than last Friday. They then went through his stretches, the goal being for him to do as many as possible with only the assistance of the chain loops, not another human. She thought it might be possible that he’ll get flexible enough that he can eventually do all the stretches on his own.
Next he practiced opening various doors by himself – he did great. Since we’d told her that he had trouble with the ramps last weekend, we went to the garden ramp. She watched him attempt going up the ramp and gave him tips. It turned out that by leaning farther forward in his seat (his chest strap firmly in place), he accomplished the feat much more smoothly – no wheelies.
Therapy sessions over, we went back to his room. He pointed out how some nurse had written “G. Man Gruenhage” on one of his supplies. As you might suspect, everyone who’s been involved in his care has mispronounced his last name when they come in and introduced themselves. He’d then always told them to call him “Gary.” Some of them call him “Mr. G.” But he rather liked this new designation of “G. Man Gruenhage,” so when a new supply item came in a short time later, I wrote that on it in magic marker to make him laugh.
I’m not sure what he’d think if people in the math department started calling him that, though ;-)
After lunch he had another therapy session, this time with his tech. They started out with “the rickshaw exerciser” (see http://www.wisdomking.com/product17194c90020.html for a picture) which “develops the specific arm and shoulder muscle groups used for transfer in and out of a wheelchair.” Then she helped him transfer to the mat and they went through his stretches again. For some reason everything is much more awkward with this tech. She makes me neurotic – I always have the urge to question her about every little thing.
Maybe I should have questioned her about one thing though – at one point she moved Gary’s legs for him in such a way that he fell back onto the mat and hit his head hard. I could see it in his face that that had hurt, and once again I felt like bursting out with “Just leave him alone.” Gary told me later these things were bound to happen; I told him I just didn’t like seeing them happen to him. He said be prepared, because there will no doubt come the time when we have to call 911 to get him back in his chair, since he won’t be allowed to even attempt such a skill until his flap is healed and I certainly can’t lift him back into his chair.
Anyway, back to the session. He was supposed to practice wheelies with her, but fortunately we ran out of time – I don’t think I could have taken having her balance him backwards on his chair without his tip bars in place ;-)
We made our escape, going back to his room so he could have some of his protein drink, and then we went back out to the parking garage so I could get some bottled water from the car. He practiced his door opening, then said, “See ya,” and zoomed down the ramp. We met down by the car. On the way back to his room he practiced going up the ramp that had given him particular problems yesterday. He still couldn’t get up it by himself, even with leaning over, so I had to help. I asked him what he thought the solution for that problem was. He said, “To get stronger.”
Back in the room, we prepared to give him a haircut. I laid a sheet down in the bathroom connected to his four-man room, he wheeled over that sheet, and then I put another sheet around him. I then discovered he wanted *me* to cut his hair. I thought he was crazy, and told him I couldn’t – he should do it. He insisted I could do it. So I used the trimmer on his electric razor, and after he showed me a little of how he did it, I attempted it and thought I did the sides fairly decently. I started on the back and had it going pretty good, but when I was nearly finished he decided to take some scissors and do more with the front of his hair. This was a mistake because he moved his head just as I was finishing shaping the back of his hair, and because of that movement I removed about an inch of hair at the bottom of the very back of his head (it could have been worse, I suppose – I could have cut a hunk from the middle). Of course, that meant I had to trim the rest of it to that length, and I don’t think it looks that great now – it looked much better before that little disaster. Fortunately, he can’t see it ;-), and more fortunately, it’ll grow back. The PT came around later, and looking at him from behind, told him “Great haircut.” I scrutinized her to see if she was being sarcastic, but she didn’t seem to be. However, I suspect she was being kind.
Anyway, if you see him and think the back of his hair looks strange, you now know the reason.
The reason the PT had come was to ask if Gary had any pain. He told her he had that “line of discomfort,” but that it was never really painful. He told her he’d asked his doctor about it, and his doctor had said it was common – in fact, he said he himself had experienced the same sort of thing for several months after his own accident, but that it had gone away. The doctor also said that if it did become painful, that there were medicines for it, but that it was best to avoid taking them if possible because of the side effects.
Mail call. Thanks to Michel Smith, Norma Kramer, Mark and Dottie Meschke, and Bruce Noda. As always, each piece of mail and email we get means so much to us. Just taking today as an example, getting mail from Michel reminds us of how supportive he and the math department have been; the letter from Norma reminds us of the love of our families; Mark is a childhood friend of Gary’s, Bruce is a friend of Gary’s from his graduate school day, and their letters bring home to me how many people Gary’s life has touched.
And also how many other lives have touched Gary’s. Bruce mentioned in his letter that another memorial for Gary’s good friend Ward will be held at the end of July and said if Gary liked, he could compose something to be read during it. Ward died a couple of weeks after Gary’s accident. When I’d first learned of it, I hadn’t been sure whether or not to pass the news on to Gary – he wasn’t in such great shape himself, and as he couldn’t speak, I wasn’t sure how fragile his psychology was. But since Gary had asked me several times if I’d heard any news of Ward, I decided to pass the news on, telling him I wasn’t sure I should be doing so. The news of Ward deeply affected him – it still does – but he said he preferred to know.
He is going to compose something for that memorial. And he is now at the point where he feels up to getting on the internet and looking at some of his email for a short time. I’m sure he’ll be talking some math with people in the near future. We take these as further signs of his progress in healing.
Norma, to reply to your letter, I have no idea if “Hell Explained By Chemistry Student” really happened or if it is an urban legend. At the least, it gave some of us a big laugh. If the story is true, it is amazing the person could come up with it during the heat of an exam – I wish I were clever enough to come up with something like that at all!
My subconscious has it’s own definition of hell – or maybe it’s not so subconscious. I had a dream the other night, in which I couldn’t get checked out of a hotel, though I’d been trying to do so for several days. The desk clerk finally told me that no one ever left the hotel; once you came, you were executed shortly thereafter. Reminded me of the roach motel commercials. Or Hotel California. Or the fact that I’ve been living in hotels/apartments for over ten weeks now, and maybe sometimes it seems like that will never end!
All for now.
posted by Peg Daniels at 8:28 PM
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