Warning-Do NOT Use Rehab Exercises As Stress Removers

This week has been a particularly stressful week for my family.  The downs of my Dad’s recovery far outweighed the ups earlier in the week.  Wednesday night I decided to work off some of my stress by really going at my rehab exercises.  I figured if doing the entire routine once helped, doing the entire routine twice would be that much better.  And of course, if doing it twice was better than doing in once, doing it three times had to be better than doing it twice.

 

Let’s just say my theory had flaws.  I have been trying to avoid pain pills other than on rehab days.  Shortly before midnight on Wednesday my left arm felt like someone had hit it with a sledge hammer.  I took a pain pill.  After tossing and turning for 3 ½ more hours because the first pill didn’t even begin to take the edge off my pain, I took another.  I finally fell asleep around 4:00 a.m., than got up at 6:30 a.m.

 

I do not intend to do a triple rehab routine ever again, but on Thursday, both my physical therapist and my doctor applauded my rehab efforts.  My range of motion is good for being not quite seven weeks out from surgery.  The doctor decided I should increase my rehab activities, and I might not even need all the rehab sessions originally planned.  That is good news.  I also plan to start working out again with my trainer at the Wellness Center, going once every two weeks as before.  It will be some time before I do a lot of lifting with my arms, but the doctor and therapist have already OK’d walking and light lifting with my legs.  June 16^th will be my first day back with the trainer.

 

As always, I greatly appreciate each of my followers.  That you give up some of your time to read what I write is humbling for me.  I also want to thank you for your prayers and kind thoughts during my Dad’s ordeal.  Below is my latest post on his condition.

 

I Hate Roller Coasters

 

Growing up I had a near phobic dislike of roller coasters, which is an ego saving way of stating they terrified me.  I did not like the smaller versions of coasters that came with carnivals visiting Fremont, and it was all I could bear to even look at the old ¼ mile long wooden roller coaster at the old Playland Park just across the Missouri River from Omaha. If someone offered me $1,000,000 to ride one of today’s thrill rides, I would say no.  What good would the money do if I had a heart attack on the ride?

 

Since May 13^th my family has been on a ride wilder than any amusement park could offer.  My Dad’s brain surgery on May 13^th AND May 14^th seems like ancient history.  The past 23 days are a blur of driving to Omaha sitting in a hospital, driving home, going to bed, going to work, driving to Omaha, sitting in a hospital, driving home, and going to bed.  It has been years since I have felt as tired physically as I do this moment, but the physical tired is overwhelmed by the emotional exhaustion.

 

I wish it had been a great three weeks since my Dad’s surgery, but it has not been.  For an 84 year old man to undergo 35 hours of brain and supportive surgeries is almost incomprehensible to me.  That he survived is do in no small part to my Mom willing him to survive, plus the prayers of hundreds of people around the world.  Surviving the surgery was just one inning in a very humbling game.  Recovery is another story, and it is like trying to get a hit off the fastest pitcher around.

 

Not one step in my Dad’s recovery has followed a time table.  It seems like for every step forward, he has taken at least two steps back.  Simply waking up from the surgery was a week longer process than doctors had first hoped for.  Any response from my Dad took even longer.  Tiny movements are a cause for joy, and left side movements are almost non-existent.  An off the chart fever followed by dangerously low blood pressure consumed one day, and day after day of no improvement made each journey to the hospital mind numbing.

 

This week saw anger, tears and great fears, and yesterday cheers.  Fears of a stroke were allayed by a negative CT scan.  Anger over not seeing members of the surgical team have been replaced by appreciation for a continued high focus on my dad.  Tears from a lack of responsiveness and wondering what we should have the hospital staff do if we were not on hand, were replaced by smiles yesterday. No loud cheers were made-Dad is still in the intensive care unit-but inside I couldn’t have been yelling louder than if I was at a Nebraska football game.

 

Yesterday my Dad sat up.  His hospital bed is an amazing machine that can be arranged into almost a chair, and he sat up almost all day.  Not only did he sit up, but he kept his eyes open and was alert, tracking movements in his room, even outside his room.  He would nod his head in response to questions, and several times when asked to give thumbs up or down as to how he was feeling, he gave thumbs up and even squeezed fingers. These acts may seem quite minor, but when it is a loved one performing them after doing nothing for days, well, the actions seem heaven sent.

 

I am almost afraid to go to the hospital today, or even call my Mom to see how Dad is doing.  Other up days have been followed by roller coaster down, down, down days.  Our hopes have been trashed several times.  Today I am just praying for a decent day for my Dad, sort of a follow up to yesterday.  Tomorrow I hope for more of the same.  If Dad can put together four or five good days, we can talk about leaving the ICU, and maybe even going to a neuro rehab center in Omaha. 

 

I never have like roller coasters, but I have always liked trains, especially the steam engines of the 30’s and 40’s when my Dad was growing up.  Maybe the roller coaster ride is over, and the Hank Meyer Wellness Express is building up steam.  My son Matt asked me what I wanted for Father’s Day.  All I could think of was for my Dad to get better.

 

Thanks for stopping by, and thanks for all of your kind thoughts and prayers.

~ by Ron Meyer on June 6, 2009.