Suddenly, I do look sick because I have a walker. Now I am the patient. It's a good name for us because the role requires patience.
A year and a half ago, I made a bad mistake moving furniture, which either aggravated an existing spine problem or started a new one. One injection. Then, for a year and a half, I was okay as usual. Physical therapy and some lifting restrictions. Did my job.
Then, about a month ago, I got leg pain that an injection didn't help.
Almost two weeks ago, Saturday night, the pain was so severe in the right leg that I didn't quite make it back to the apartment. My roommate and benefactor more or less dragged me to the courtyard and called an ambulance.
Three days in the hospital, home for one night with big pain medicine, then back for a different kind of injections. There are already three doctors involved.
That right leg is the one that lets me hit the brake pedal, of course. So I'm not to drive. I can get out of this secure apartment complex, but no one can just walk in even to visit until I go to the gate.
Some wonderful friends have helped.
There is also a wonderful home health nurse, and wonderful as she is, there are still communication problems. For example: Every 4 hours for mild pain as needed seems to mean different things to each of us. I was not expecting communication problems. There's a physical therapist and a social worker. And I don't like thinking their questions sound like I'm 99 and a bit dotty.
Probable surgery is lurking, hovering over everything I do. I was job-hunting; now that is on hold. And my family is far away.
Sitting in a meeting or a waiting room, with the walker behind the chair, I don't look sick. And yet almost my whole life is on hold. I needed a copy of my birth certificate to apply for transportation vouchers. The printer ran out of ink, and here I was with no transportation.
Have you been in this situation? How did you cope with any fears of helplessness, fears of surgery that may not work, or of whatever?