The admitting doctor comes in and announces that she's disappointed in me. The PTs from the day before have said I didn't work hard enough. I gave her a step-by-step recap of that day, including a detour into the group room to play a few notes standing at the piano, and walking farther than the PTs' goal.
Today: the complaining PTs have disappeared.
The brace, the dumb socks (my Clark's have been pronounced unsatisfactory) and the walker. We're out in the hall. I'm told that I walk with my feet too close together. (This gait is a lifelong habit, but I guess it is really dangerous for my rebuilt spine.) We also work on this. I work on my posture, and standing upright inside the walker-- breaking the habit of leaning slightly and pushing it. I tell them I need repeated posture reminders, since slouching was the norm in high school and I still slouch.
In the hall I see a woman seated in a wheelchair, quietly looking in front of her. Her head is held motionless in a tall wood frame. I realize I have a lot to be thankful for.
There is a wheelchair in my room, so I get to sit up and eat like a normal person. After last week of not eating, the food suddenly looks good.
The chair is locked, however, and I can't unlock the right lock without way too much pulling. (Pulling hard has been a no-no since the spine problem was first diagnosed over a year and a half ago.) So I'm trapped until someone comes, in the too-tall wheelchair that hurts the back of my thighs.
I can't reach my book, purse, phone. I experiment with pushing the wheeled eating table/bedside table to see if I can rotate it enough to reach at least my water. That actually works.
An occupational therapist is due. Maybe we will work on something besides putting on socks.
I haven't had a shower since the morning I reported for surgery.