I Will Walk Out of Here

I never thought I’d be spending six weeks in a wheelchair. I also never thought I’d get so good at wheeling myself around. This ability has surprised me, and I’m proud of the fact that I’ve been able to get better at it the past six weeks. I’ve learned a few things as well.

I’ve become more patient with myself. Walking is something most people do without thinking about it. Once we’ve learned to put one foot in front of the other foot, we do it automatically. If we suffer a stroke or other brain injury, then the task of learning how to walk is something that must happen again.

Learning how to not walk is another challenge; we must wheel ourselves around just to shower, to dress, and to do all things that go along with preparing for the day. I can’t walk to what I need; right now I roll to what I need, and I must think it out. So I roll to underwear, socks, and then what I want to wear. Then, once I have that secured, I can roll to shower myself, and this will take assistance. 

I’ve had to learn to safely transfer from a bed to a wheelchair. Soon it will be devices such as a walker or a rolling walker that will give me more mobility, and then independent walking, putting one foot in front of the other.

Before I leave the chair, there are lessons that I’ll take with me.

I can do more than I thought I could do in this chair. I’m fairly self sufficient, and for a person with only 12% of her sight, that is pretty darn good. I can roll this thing anywhere I need to go. I’m still building arm strength. The arm that was damaged in the minor stroke that I had is coming into new strength. I’m asking why this wasn’t done at the time of the original rehab. It is happening now, and I’ll look for ways to keep the arm building up strength. Rolling is good physical therapy.

If I need something from nursing staff, I buzz, and then go into a queue. I’m becoming patient, and realizing that others here may not be as able as I am, and so I’m learning to wait. Waiting has also been motivation for me. Can I do the transfer alone? Can I do what I thought I needed someone to help me with on my own? Each success has built on a foundation of a new understanding and wiped out the fear that happened with the fall I took. I can do this! I’m doing this! With low vision I’m pulling this off. WOW-lesson learned: when you are put into situations that limit you, the human spirit chooses to crash, to rise, or to slowly trust that there is a way to rise to new highs. Fear only has a hold on us when we believe there is no way out of where we are. Hope offers ways to get to new places.

This week they’ll x-ray my leg, and I’ll be told if it’s safe to walk on the leg again. I’ll enter a new cycle of fear, learning to trust that I can put pressure on the leg in real time, and trusting the physiotherapists to not allow me to go faster then is prudent.

Physiotherapy by its nature is going to cause me pain. My mind by nature is questioning what happened, and if it will happen again. Now I know it can happen, and I’m doing the prep work to “Gail-proof” that house with some security measures. When stuff happens, we get cautious as we have thoughts about it happening again. It is why a grandparent warns children to not get too close to the edge: it isn’t that they want to deny fun to the children, but rather because they’ve lived long enough to know that unexpected things happen to all of us. We trust our bodies to be predictable when in reality they can be faulty, and when the faulty stuff happens we wind up in the ER asking why and hoping for good news. Listen to older people because they’ve seen more than you have by nature of living longer.

It is true that what I’m talking about is not wisdom. I’m talking about life experiences and general knowing.

Ultimately, we’re led to do the journeying our souls and hearts need to do. The unexpected has a way of bringing us surprises that can benefit us. My fall was a seven-week life detour, and while I haven’t enjoyed it, I’ve learned from doing it.

Last week they moved me. The room I’d been in since my arrival had a view of the tree and the window in the house across the street. The image that I saw daily looked like the perfect cover for an old Nancy Drew mystery. They’ve move me to a place further away from the tree, and now I’m looking at the employee parking lot. The movement came with other changes as well. The biggest change is that I can see how far I’ve come in six weeks. I think the huge change is the fact that I’m expressing far more gratitude for what I can do and for those who have engaged with me to bring about the change. The charge nurse on my first day here looked me in the eyes and said “YOU CAN DO THIS,” and I was annoyed by that statement. Now I’ve done much, and in the next ten days I must launch myself to new heights. I will walk again. I will walk out of here.