Monday, Jul 23, 2007
Well, Gary is off on his big adventure tonight. He says he feels like a little boy who’s getting to camp out on his own in the backyard for the first time – excited, and a little nervous.
And what is this big adventure? He is ten minutes away in a motel, where for the first time since his accident he will stay overnight without me being feet away. I guess this means he’ll be skipping his bath tonight ;-) We are both really, really hoping he doesn’t drop something vital on the floor after he’s gotten into bed (or for that matter, dropped *himself* on the floor *before* getting into bed). The walkie-talkies won’t work at this distance, so I will be keeping my cell phone on overnight. Sounds like a real relaxing prospect, doesn’t it? :-)
Actually, I’m sure he’ll do fine. Well, almost sure.
My latest “adventure” is I’m trying out a local acupuncturist. I’ve seen her twice, and last Saturday night I had practically zero pain in both legs for the first time in a couple years (I had seen her on Friday). It was so nice going around thinking, Gosh, I don’t hurt! I slept great, best in a couple years. Unfortunately, the next night I was back to the usual. I am going to give her a try for a while to see if it can help.
Okay, more random stuff.
On Saturday morning while I was still grasping onto those last tendrils of sleep, Gary came to my room and announced there had been a jailbreak – for the first time, he’d got his bed rails down himself so he could get out of bed. I thought this meant he was going to do this all the time, but no such luck – only shower days, because on those days he does his skin checks after his shower so he doesn’t need the light on until after that (after he’s gotten out of the bed), whereas the other days he needs the light on before he’s gotten out of the bed and I am still enough of a pushover not to make him get out of the bed himself, turn the light on, then get back in the bed and do his skin checks (we keep saying we’re going to look into some kind of remote control for the lights). You would think my groaning response into the walkie-talkie when he asks to be let out of jail would be incentive enough for him to do it on his own, but apparently not. Actually, he has told me it would be more enjoyable if I were a little more upbeat in the morning, so I have taken to responding to his request with a “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah.” I’m afraid it comes out a little sarcastically, however.
Well, as an acquaintance of mine says, a man is lucky to get any woman who will have him, so Gary probably realizes this and knows not to complain to loudly.
Recently we got a brochure from the local performing arts center and were debating getting season tickets. But apparently they only have four places for wheelchairs, and only two regular seats (total) would be next to these four slots. People with season tickets already have both those regular seats, which means we’d most likely be sitting apart during the various events. I think we’ll go see Garrison Keillor, anyway, but I’m not sure we’ll get the season tickets. Seems like they should have better accommodation.
Gary still never got the bolt for the push handle that came off of his wheelchair when he was at his mom’s – for some reason his equipment supplier can’t figure out which one he needs, claiming there’s lots of different bolts for that place, even on the same make of chair. They suggested we take the other handle apart and figure out what bolt we need and go to a local home center to buy one. We’re now pretty sure the bolt got stripped off because of the pressure of Donne picking up Gary’s chair by those handles to get him up the stairs at his mom’s. Recently Gary came across an article that said the person behind the chair should only be there to tilt it, and it is the person in front who does the lifting. That may be better on the push handles, but it is definitely harder on the back of the person doing the lifting! That is also not the way they taught us at Shepherd.
Well, Gary just called. He’s settled in his room but not in bed yet. He plans to wash his upper body while sitting in his chair (though he won’t be able to reach his back), and then he’ll take wash cloths over to the bed and get into bed and wash his lower body while in bed. He says the hard part is going to be getting into bed – the bed is higher than the motel ones he’s stayed in before. So he says if I get a call it will be because he was unsuccessful at that transfer (and is therefore now on the floor). He did take his transfer board and thinks to be safe he will use that for the transfer.
I told him to call me after he got into bed and was ready to turn off the lights for sleep so I don’t have to have my imagination going wild wondering if he’s on the floor and his cell phone has dropped somewhere out of reach.
More randomness. Just this past week Tigger has become Gary’s “faithful kitty.” When we first got home, Tigger used to get in the hospital bed with him all the time, but after Gary started doing his stretching on the futon and not on the bed, Tigger stopped coming in. We then realized this was because Tigger was wanting to be where *I* was, not Gary, that is, Tigger was only on the hospital bed because I was in there stretching Gary’s legs. We figured this out because it soon became obvious that every time I go into Gary’s room to do something for Gary while he’s in bed (bring the washcloths, give him his pillows), Tigger comes in demanding my attention. We knew he was jealous of Blackjack ever getting any attention, but now it became obvious he was jealous every time I gave *Gary* any attention in the bed! We have to laugh at that.
But maybe Tigger is expanding his affections somewhat. This past week he has been jumping into bed with Gary when Gary goes there to wash and do his bedtime IC and so forth, and I’m not in the room.
And now for your edification. I came across a note about how, though dogs are used in forensics for tracking smells, they do not have the most acute sense of smell in the animal kingdom. Cats are much better, and so are ferrets and pigs (think truffles). The trainer being interviewed said pigs don’t mind working but can’t always be brought into the area needing investigating, and besides, they get distracted by food. Ferrets apparently have zip attention span. Dogs like to work, respond to praise, and see themselves as people partners. Cats don’t like to work, and certainly don’t see themselves as people partners. The forensic trainer finished by saying the only time a cat would be useful in this regard would be if he was looking for a half-rotted fish and the cat was really, really hungry.
Smart cat.
Another call from Gary. He made a soft landing (onto the bed), but forgot to turn the hall light out, so now he has to transfer out of bed, turn off the light, transfer back into bed, and call me again.
Gary called again. All’s well ;-)
Well, Gary is off on his big adventure tonight. He says he feels like a little boy who’s getting to camp out on his own in the backyard for the first time – excited, and a little nervous.
And what is this big adventure? He is ten minutes away in a motel, where for the first time since his accident he will stay overnight without me being feet away. I guess this means he’ll be skipping his bath tonight ;-) We are both really, really hoping he doesn’t drop something vital on the floor after he’s gotten into bed (or for that matter, dropped *himself* on the floor *before* getting into bed). The walkie-talkies won’t work at this distance, so I will be keeping my cell phone on overnight. Sounds like a real relaxing prospect, doesn’t it? :-)
Actually, I’m sure he’ll do fine. Well, almost sure.
My latest “adventure” is I’m trying out a local acupuncturist. I’ve seen her twice, and last Saturday night I had practically zero pain in both legs for the first time in a couple years (I had seen her on Friday). It was so nice going around thinking, Gosh, I don’t hurt! I slept great, best in a couple years. Unfortunately, the next night I was back to the usual. I am going to give her a try for a while to see if it can help.
Okay, more random stuff.
On Saturday morning while I was still grasping onto those last tendrils of sleep, Gary came to my room and announced there had been a jailbreak – for the first time, he’d got his bed rails down himself so he could get out of bed. I thought this meant he was going to do this all the time, but no such luck – only shower days, because on those days he does his skin checks after his shower so he doesn’t need the light on until after that (after he’s gotten out of the bed), whereas the other days he needs the light on before he’s gotten out of the bed and I am still enough of a pushover not to make him get out of the bed himself, turn the light on, then get back in the bed and do his skin checks (we keep saying we’re going to look into some kind of remote control for the lights). You would think my groaning response into the walkie-talkie when he asks to be let out of jail would be incentive enough for him to do it on his own, but apparently not. Actually, he has told me it would be more enjoyable if I were a little more upbeat in the morning, so I have taken to responding to his request with a “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah.” I’m afraid it comes out a little sarcastically, however.
Well, as an acquaintance of mine says, a man is lucky to get any woman who will have him, so Gary probably realizes this and knows not to complain to loudly.
Recently we got a brochure from the local performing arts center and were debating getting season tickets. But apparently they only have four places for wheelchairs, and only two regular seats (total) would be next to these four slots. People with season tickets already have both those regular seats, which means we’d most likely be sitting apart during the various events. I think we’ll go see Garrison Keillor, anyway, but I’m not sure we’ll get the season tickets. Seems like they should have better accommodation.
Gary still never got the bolt for the push handle that came off of his wheelchair when he was at his mom’s – for some reason his equipment supplier can’t figure out which one he needs, claiming there’s lots of different bolts for that place, even on the same make of chair. They suggested we take the other handle apart and figure out what bolt we need and go to a local home center to buy one. We’re now pretty sure the bolt got stripped off because of the pressure of Donne picking up Gary’s chair by those handles to get him up the stairs at his mom’s. Recently Gary came across an article that said the person behind the chair should only be there to tilt it, and it is the person in front who does the lifting. That may be better on the push handles, but it is definitely harder on the back of the person doing the lifting! That is also not the way they taught us at Shepherd.
Well, Gary just called. He’s settled in his room but not in bed yet. He plans to wash his upper body while sitting in his chair (though he won’t be able to reach his back), and then he’ll take wash cloths over to the bed and get into bed and wash his lower body while in bed. He says the hard part is going to be getting into bed – the bed is higher than the motel ones he’s stayed in before. So he says if I get a call it will be because he was unsuccessful at that transfer (and is therefore now on the floor). He did take his transfer board and thinks to be safe he will use that for the transfer.
I told him to call me after he got into bed and was ready to turn off the lights for sleep so I don’t have to have my imagination going wild wondering if he’s on the floor and his cell phone has dropped somewhere out of reach.
More randomness. Just this past week Tigger has become Gary’s “faithful kitty.” When we first got home, Tigger used to get in the hospital bed with him all the time, but after Gary started doing his stretching on the futon and not on the bed, Tigger stopped coming in. We then realized this was because Tigger was wanting to be where *I* was, not Gary, that is, Tigger was only on the hospital bed because I was in there stretching Gary’s legs. We figured this out because it soon became obvious that every time I go into Gary’s room to do something for Gary while he’s in bed (bring the washcloths, give him his pillows), Tigger comes in demanding my attention. We knew he was jealous of Blackjack ever getting any attention, but now it became obvious he was jealous every time I gave *Gary* any attention in the bed! We have to laugh at that.
But maybe Tigger is expanding his affections somewhat. This past week he has been jumping into bed with Gary when Gary goes there to wash and do his bedtime IC and so forth, and I’m not in the room.
And now for your edification. I came across a note about how, though dogs are used in forensics for tracking smells, they do not have the most acute sense of smell in the animal kingdom. Cats are much better, and so are ferrets and pigs (think truffles). The trainer being interviewed said pigs don’t mind working but can’t always be brought into the area needing investigating, and besides, they get distracted by food. Ferrets apparently have zip attention span. Dogs like to work, respond to praise, and see themselves as people partners. Cats don’t like to work, and certainly don’t see themselves as people partners. The forensic trainer finished by saying the only time a cat would be useful in this regard would be if he was looking for a half-rotted fish and the cat was really, really hungry.
Smart cat.
Another call from Gary. He made a soft landing (onto the bed), but forgot to turn the hall light out, so now he has to transfer out of bed, turn off the light, transfer back into bed, and call me again.
Gary called again. All’s well ;-)
posted by Peg Daniels at 7:54 PM
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