Written October 5, 2010

Anita had another busy day today. The day started with coming off the vent at 7:30 am.  She then showered, dressed and ate breakfast.  She had a Speech Therapy (ST) session in the morning, followed by a Recreational Therapy (RT) evaluation.  After lunch Anita had another ST session, followed by another PT session.  She then returned to her room, watched some Soaps and remained off the vent until 5:00 pm, a total of 8.5 hours off the vent!!!  She then returned to bed and rested for the remainder of the evening.

A shower.  At last.  Another something that I used to take for granted.  It's been almost two months.  I am ready to feel the water flowing over me. The way I used to wake up.  Maybe I will do better in therapy today after participating in my old morning routine.

Of course I can't take my ventilator buddy into the shower, but today I am unhooked early and my tracheostomy is covered.  I can't let the water flow down over the top of my head, but there will be a hand held shower head rather than a bed bath.  Bring it on!

My OT arrives promptly at 7:30 a.m. to evaluate my showering abilities.  She transfers me by hoyer lift into a special shower chair.  Its seat is horseshoe shaped, open in the middle, allowing for "undercarriage" washing. I am wheeled into the shower room which is large enough  to be a car wash for compact cars.  The entire room, sans ceiling, is covered with medical grade beige tile.  There are two handheld showers and the floor slants down to a huge drain in the middle of the room. Voices and noises echo as if we are standing at the edge of a canyon. It's sensory overload for me.

The kind therapist removes my hospital gown and turns on the faucet.  The water feels sharp against my skin and I discover I can't feel hot or cold.  My OT picks a comfortable temperature and sprays me down.  She squirts liquid soap into a washcloth that is placed in my hand.  I can't squeeze it enough to wring it out. I am only able to wash the tops of my thighs somewhat effectively with my right hand.

Reality slams me head on once again.  I can't do this.  Bathe myself. I certainly never pictured this as part of my path right now. But I said can't.  That word is not welcome at the Shepherd Center.  My OT picks up the washcloth and finishes where I have failed without a bother.  She doesn't mention my inadequacies, but rather, starts a conversation about favorite soaps, lotions and shampoos.  Her kind distraction is welcome and blocks the lump in my throat and the tears in my eyes.

Despite my dependence in this basic life skill, I am delighted to get away from the bed bath.  It feels so good to be clean.  I am transferred back to bed where the nursing assistant dresses me and hoyer lifts me back to my power chair.  I can take myself to the therapy gym now, with clean hair and a renewed determination.  I can do this.  Now...for just a little while.