#Bionic man 2.8. Wednesday, April 6, 2016. Less oxycodone yesterday meant that I could stay awake to see UConn women run over Syracuse women. At least Anne Mei’s maternal grandmother would be happy. I’m just glad that the Orange women went down fighting to the end.
Dr. T came to my room this morning around breakfast time. Flying visit. Two second stethoscope slap to my left shoulder. Doing ok? Good. Bye. Obviously none of my previous requests for a change in orders had been conveyed to him. I did catch him before he could move beyond the edge of my bed. I explained my problem with “doctor’s orders.” He gave the obvious and valid explanation that they wanted us to avoid falls. When pushed as to the invariant application of this policy regardless of patient capabilities, he fell back on it’s-not-me, it’s-facility-policy.
The interchange did give me enough information to understand the realities of the situation, aka, liability. The letter of the order says that I have to be accompanied when using a walker to move around. I realized that the times I had been scolded I had been using a walker. As long as I zip around in my wheel chair, no one is going to question me as to how I got into the wheel chair. Or will get from wheel chair to bed. Problem solved.
Another day of even more intense physical therapy. I do notice that my leg is much more flexible than it was on Monday. As I noted last time, my movements seem limited more by physical stiffness and swelling than by the nerve sensations from bending my knee, which are stimulated not only from the knee itself but from the thigh muscles that were pushed around during the operation. Yes, it hurt this afternoon when the therapist pushed my knee beyond my own ability to bend it. Yet after she kept my knee bent for a while past the point I thought possible, I settled into a steady effort to stay where she kept it. In response to her usual question to describe my pain, I said it felt like the pain of hard work. like struggling to carry a very heavy load. When I started on Monday, bending my knee felt as if someone were hitting my knee with an iron rod.