Written September 28, 2010  8:11 pm

Today was a day of transition for Anita. In the morning, she was fitted out with a motorized wheelchair.  At noon, she was transferred out of ICU to the regular floor.  She then went through another series of evaluations by the various disciplines, Speech, PT, etc. on the floor.  Tomorrow, her rehab program will start in earnest.

Wheels!  I am mobile.  Not quite free, but perhaps it's just a roll away.  The therapist suggested  I start with a sip and puff power wheelchair, due to my decreased movement  This chair is operated by blowing or sipping on a straw attached to the chair's "brain."  Truly amazing.  I recall a patient I had once who controlled his whole environment (TV, lights, bed, computer, even his van) through a  sip and puff apparatus or switches that were operated by head movements.  As a therapist, this technology thrilled and fascinated me.  As a patient, not so much.

Thank goodness for my husband, advocate, hero who was adamant that I try a toggle switch mounted on the right side of the chair.  I could wiggle a few fingers, so once my arm was placed in the right position, my fingers could grasp the switch and I could move forward. My ventilator is attached to the back of the chair, so it follows me like a dark, ominous shadow.  I am issued a suction machine (even has my name on it) and am told it needs to be with me at all times.  Someone has to follow me with this device in case my mucous secretions seize up on me.  At least I am up.  It is a step, or a roll forward.   I wasn't allowed to go too far today, but I have dreams of returning to nature.

As an OT working in Rehab, we encouraged patients to set goals.  There was a universal goal that most patients expressed, "I want to walk again."  Well guess what?  So do I now.  With my patients, I never acknowledged that this might not be possible.  I tried to set smaller goals to distract them and provide small victories on the path to wellness.  I feel the need to elaborate, be more specific with my goal.  If only I could verbalize, I'd tell them, "I want to walk out of here with a Coke in hand, completely independent to appreciate family, friends, and nature just like I used to."  I promise to never, ever take anything for granted again.   I quickly realize I am exhibiting 2 of the stages of grief/loss as outlined by Elizabeth Kubler Ross; denial and bargaining.

Today I realized that therapists know too much to be model patients.  I just need to let go, let God.  Now....for just a little while.