Whips and Chains
December 9th, 2009 by Grandpa OddballCopyright © GetOddNews and Grandpa Oddball December 9, 2009. All rights reserved.
Do you know the difference between a therapist and a sadist?
Answer: A therapist is relentless!
And a good thing too. Without them I’d probably be dead by now. I’d been in hospitals and hadn’t been home for more than two years and thought I was going to die. Even made out my will when I was transferred to a nursing home which had a wonderful therapy staff that prodded and badgered me to get well.
Normally I don’t make recommendations but in this case I’ll make an exception and recommend Bethany (Everett Transitional Care Services) and their therapy staff. In particular, I’m grateful to Ranee, a fantastic therapist that patiently worked wonders for me to get me back on my feet. If she gets assigned to help you then consider yourself lucky (and do what she says!). And Jamie, I know you are driving a school bus now but if you read this thank you for all the extra time you spent every afternoon getting me back into shape.
As I slowly got better and my mind started to clear somewhat I had to find some way to relieve the daily boredom. Fortunately humor helped and being good sports that staff didn’t mind my (probably too frequent) references to the “whips and chains” therapy method I accused them of using. In fact they gave as good (or better) than they got. When I learned that a patient has the right to refuse treatment I inquired about this right. They immediately shot back, “your right to refuse is that you can’t refuse”. Grandma Oddball backed them up 100%. Ah, I get no sympathy not even from (or perhaps especially from) grandma Oddball.
Not that I appreciated the effort at first. In fact I hardly appreciated anything. I was so weak that I couldn’t lift my head off the pillow on my hospital bed and my mental process were so confused I only remember bits and pieces of my early stay there. That didn’t matter to the two therapists that relentlessly came in every morning to work with me.
My main recollection of that time was how perky one of them was every time she entered my room. Here I was weak, confused and physically in some distress and probably feeling sorry for myself when this bright perky young lady cheerfully bounced into my room with a big smile to torture me into getting well. I can only say one thing; I hate perky! Nonetheless they successfully got me to sit up without falling over after a couple of months and eventually even got me to stand and walk (with a walker) on my own and I will always be grateful.
I was reminded of the therapist joke during one of my frequent relapses. It was in the fourth year of my ongoing problems and I had to be hospitalized yet once again. At first it wasn’t too bad and the therapy staff came by every day to make sure that I worked sufficiently to maintain what little physical conditioning I had. Despite the IVs and tubes inserted in me they were able to work out a therapy regimen that I was able to do.
Then things took a turn for the worst. I couldn’t move without getting dizzy. It turned out that my blood pressure had dropped below 90 and my heart started racing at 120 beats per minute so I was moved to a critical care ward.
So there I was laying in a hospital bed so weak I could barely move with a PIC line in my arm, a couple tubes protruding from each side of my chest and wired with who knows what sensors all over my body when who should pass by my room but my hospital therapist. Glancing in she saw me then stopped to say hello commenting that she hadn’t realized that I’d been moved to critical care. Well, I thought this was nice of her and told her how much I appreciated her visit.
“It’s not a visit,” she informed me as the truth with sudden clarity leaped into my head. She was here to work me! I mean, give me a break. I was in critical care. I had so many tubes and wires sticking out my body that I couldn’t move without damaging something. Besides I was getting fluids to pump up my blood pressure. Surely she didn’t want to jeopardize all that?
It turns out she did. By dint of force of will she had me sit up then stand up. Clearly she’d done this before and she knew all the tricks. Not a tube or wire was displaced from my body during the whole procedure. Eventually I was allowed the relief of getting back in bed and vegetating for awhile.
In the long run it was all probably for the best but at the time? Well, at the time I might have preferred the sadist! At least they wouldn’t have forced me to work!
Tags: Humor, medical update
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LOL, yes those ‘perky’ people can get on ones nerves. How blessed we are to have them though to see us through our roughest times. LOL
I remember when my son played football there were a group of Mom’s that his girlfriend at the time called the “perky Mom’s.” As a cheerleader she liked to cheer near them. I was not in the group. LOL So much for my excitement level.
Thanks for dropping by my blog and for the encouragement.
Have a great day.
Kelli