On the Road to Recovery

Remember those old Bob Hope-Bing Crosby-Dorothy Lamour movies? The famous "road" pictures that were so funny? My recovery from a recent stroke would make a great road picture. Or one of those stupid reality shows. I used to tell my children when something bad happened: "Two years from now, you will be laughing at this". They never believed it. Some things took longer, but they were girls.

I always believed the sooner you could find humor in a bad situation, the sooner your got over it. But don't laugh at funerals. Unless they drop the casket. I am trying to apply my philosophy to my stroke recovery and I am laughing already. I laughed first when my wife was trying to find a medical transportation company to take me from North Carolina where I had the stroke down to a rehab hospital in Savannah, a distance of about 300 miles. They wanted $7,000! I told my wife to go down to Main Street in Saluda and find some guy who had a pick up truck and see if he would put a mattress in the back and haul me home. But she was smarter. She called a limo service and found someone to take me in a limo for just $432. My grandson wanted to ride with me. When we got to the hospital, they thought a rock star had arrived. The hospital was very, very nice. They have won awards for 6 years now as one of the top 100 employers in the country. They treated me like a prince...the nurses were so nice and so were the therapists. I can't say much for the food but the night nurse made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as a snack. All the patients were stroke victims since that's what the hospital specializes in. The doctor said I should have a fast and complete recovery. But his idea of fast is a lot different than mine. I was in the hospital for six weeks and I've been out for six weeks...and I am still recovering. I am making progress, but it is very slow. I'm trying to be a patient patient. My wife is my primary care giver...when she came to get me from the hospital I reminded her of saying "for better or for worse" some 50 years ago. I said, "This is worse." Actually she's been very good at it. She's been trying to get control of me for all these years so now she has my checkbook, my car, my credit cards. I don't even get an allowance. Plus I think it brings out her mothering instincts. At first we had therapists who came to the house...one suggested getting Amazing Tongs, those things that are like giant tweezers...you squeeze the top part and these claws come together like those machines in convenient stores where you try to get toys. She said I could pick up pennies with it. Now, why in hell would I want to pick up pennies? Honestly. Stroke victims don't need pennies...we need hundred dollar bills. I am using my tweezers to pinch my wife inappropriately. I go to a regular gym now for outpatient physical therapy. It should be decorated like a dungeon because the machines are designed to torture people. I was hoping they were machines where they strapped you on, turned on the switch and the machine did all the work. But no such luck. I think my therapist guy came over here from Parris Island, at the Marine base. He doesn'r put up with any whining. YOU CAN DO IT! he bellows. And when he bellows, I do it. A lot of people come to the gym who aren't doing therapy. I have noticed that the older women are in much better shape than the men. The guys arrive at the gym in walkers or with canes. The women skip in. They have cute clothes and nice shoes. They jump right up on the machines and start moving. My personal take on this is that the guys are in recovery and the women are on the prowl. They are probably recently widowed and want to get back in the game. They aren't the least bit interested in the guys in recovery. Why should they be? They have televisions on the stationary bikes, but none of the programs are as interesting as watching Chicks roll around on huge colored balls. I always want to throw them a fish when they finish and watch them clap their flippers. They have so many balls around the place but I've already told the therapist that I am not getting on one of those balls. He says they hold up to 500 lbs. I'm not worried about the ball exploding; I'm worried about rolling off. I threw myself out of bed the other night, accidentally of course. But as I slid off the side I was smart enough to take a pillow with me. I could not get up and I didn't want to wake my wife in the middle of the night so I just snuggled up on the floor with my pillow and slept until she came downstairs and found me. I am deaf so I have to read lips. But lying on the floor and trying to read her lips was difficult. So she stretched out on the floor beside me so I could read her lips. I said, "How in the world did we ever come to this?" And I do wonder. I want to recover but sometimes I think it would be easier to become an invalid. You could get one of those modernized scooters that are advertised constantly on television (and I don't believe for a minute that those people are crippled! They're models and they probably have a champagne party after the filming.) If I were an invalid, I could catch up on my reading. People could come visit me (but would they?) and bring me food. I could eat anything because as long as I had the scooter I could get fatter and fatter. And if I got too fat for one scooter, I could get a double-wide. But I'm not ready to give up yet. You have to keep at it if you want back in the game. And I want back in the game. Soon.