With the accident, I have found that it all can be overwhelming at times(life that is). I have tried to keep notes on funny things that have happened and found that this has been some of the best therapy that life has to offer. Here are a few of those memories:
When I was up at the hospital, one of the things that my Doctors would do every morning is ask me the date. I can remember as a nursing student that this was part of being able to make an assessment of the person's orientation. On one day my mom came into my room before the Doctors had gotten to me on their morning rounds. She thought that she would help me out and tell me what day it was, but told me that it was a different day than it actually was. When I repeated the date that she had told me it was in response to the Doctors asking me the date, she quickly told them that it was her fault for telling me the wrong date. I love you mom for always looking out for me.
The next one is about my left side neglect, when I was in the hospital. I remember one day it was a fight to get me ready for my rehab schedule. I told my wife that I was not ready to go, that 'I needed to wait for Matt,' and tapped my left arm. She said 'Curtis where is Matt, he is at work.' I responded with, 'I will wait for him,' again tapping my left arm but more angrily this time. She responded without laughing in my face, but with the most serious face that she could muster, given the situation, with, 'Curtis, dear, do you think that is Mathew's arm?' I Returned my gaze to her still serious one. She then asked, when we made eye contact, 'How could that be his arm?!' I did not respond, the ridiculousness of my thought hit me. The best part is when I could finally laugh about it and found the courage to tell Matt what had happened, he said that we should give my left arm a name, so that I would not leave it behind. It should be a name that sounds good in Spanish too because you speak Spanish too, Curtis.' I am glad to have 'George' or 'Jorge' in Spanish, my left arm with me always. I appreciate the humorous history of his name.
Speaking of knowing some Spanish, when I fist woke up from my medically induced coma I noticed that I had a tracheodomy in my neck and thought that the best way to describe what I was feeling was in Spanish with 'me duele,' 'it hurts me.'
Lexy paniked and said shaking her head at me, Curtis, I do not speak Spanish, you need to speak English. She latter told me that all she could think about was how in Disney's 'Toy Story III,' how Buzzlightyear is knocked out and they reset him to get him to come to, but he is reset in Spanish mode. As long as the happily ever after ending comes, I am alright with my life being a Disney show.
George gets into trouble,again, while I was in the hospital, Thanks to my master planner of a wife, I always had someone with me. One afternoon when I was with my two younger sisters. I was being helped transferring to my wheelchair from the hospital bed by Lacey, when she started to laugh and was barely able to get out her question/exclamation to me, 'Curtis, I think George is touching my bum?!' I was glad that I was not in control of George at that moment. I was also grateful that we had completed the transfer. We were both laughing so hard, we could have ended up in a heep on the floor together, George included.Jorge you do have a mind of your own at times.
Oh my Lacer, you do make me laugh.You reminded me last night of another experience that we had in the hospital that needs some backdrop explanation to do it justice. When my Lacer got her wisdom teeth out, she was completely incapacitated, not able to stand by her self, unlike my younger brother Kevy, who could not tell fiction from fact, and kept telling the assistant that he had saved her, his princess, my Lacer knew where she was and knew that she needed to use the bathroom. As a nursing student, I was left to help her, but felt embarrassed for her my reply to her plea for help to go was, 'you will have to wait for Pa to get home to help you,' Ahh, karma. . . while she was with me again, I needed to use the restroom, she told me that, 'it may be best to call for the nurse to get some help.'
Not to leave my other sister my Amer out of the funny memories up at the rehab floor, she was taking me out for a stroll in a wheelchair and took a wrong turn to the stairs of the hospital, we did not go over them, but were much more careful going around certain corners.
My Pa felt guilty for not helping me with my first shower and having a girl nursing assistant do it instead, so he and my twin brother coaxed me every night to get cleaned up. After getting my trach out I was nervous to shower and get water in my lungs, three years later and showering alone, I still flinch to put my face in the shower spray. Pa had a brilliant idea to put a piece of tape over the slit in my throat to keep water out, it worked great, but he knew that to get it off it was going to be an ordeal, so, before pulling it off in one swipe he said, 'Curtis smile!'
Back to George, Jan Black, a real person and not one of my limbs, is the lead therapist at Neuroworx and loves to have me tell 'the George story,' She adds at the end of my George history lesson that, 'you know someone has serious neglect when they start naming their own body parts!'
Not to leave my left leg out, my sweet daughter Abby named him 'Bob,' it goes nice with George.'She said
Moving on from 'Bob,' to memories post first hospitalization after the accident August 1st, 2010, I had in-home therapy coming until my credits ran out in February of 2011 and ever since have been going to Neroworx for physical therapy. I love it there and feel like a member of their team. My Pa takes me every Friday, the boys are taken care of by a rotating schedule of family and neighbors. When I lost my job in March 2012, I was worried to have to find another rehabilitation center because of my lose of insurance that came with it. Thanks to my sister-in-laws family donation to Neuroworx that made them able to purchase a machine called the Locomat, I am able to still go as a charity case there, at one of our Friday dates there. I was 'being stepped' in a pre-locomat machine still in use at Neuroworx. I call it the 'washing machine' because of how I feel when I am on it, but it is a harnessing device that suspends you above a treadmill and a therapist or therapists assist(s) you where needed, for me, it was three therapists,one with Bob's ankle, another at my hips, and the other at the master controls of the harness weight distribution and treadmill speed. With this audience my Pa was watching me struggle to relearn to walk. He shouts at me, "Just remember the pain of constipation and it is all relative!' I think that was suppose to encourage me. I had to have a sit down chat with my Pa on socially acceptable comments, even at places that we feel right at home in.
Back to Jorge, when I first got home from the hospital we moved a bed into our main floor living/family room . I begrudgingly did leg exercises every night until I could get stairs down and up. The nights were long by myself and I longed to be with Lex, One afternoon she fell asleep beside me, the kids were at a neighbors home-bless them. I took what I thought was Lex's left hand and told her that this meant so much more now than it ever had, running my thumb over Jorge's knuckles. I laugh only now realizing that is what happened. Lex stayed asleep and never knew that I was whispering to my left arm.
Now,to another hospital stay, I thought that I had the flu about two years ago.I am Spleenless after all. An ER visit and x-ray later, come to find out that I had a bowel obstruction. They had to preform surgery and I got another wicked scar all the way down my stomach that my Maxwell calls my super hero tummy, in his eyes I have the equivalent of a six pack and has even asked me to draw his on for him a number of times. That is not quite how it works my Maxman. If you do choose to work for a superhero tummy, my hope is that you get it the old-fashioned way and not through any kind of surgery. Love you my little super hero.
While I was in the hospital, I was taken to the cafeteria one night by my parents and my twin brother. I got something that I considered safe to try, but was surprised to find out that it was way to spicy for me, I tried to get a quick drink, when that failed to help me, I resorted to wiping my tongue with a napkin. The paper napkin got stuck to my tounge when my twin brother saw this and commented to my parents, Is anyone watching Curtis? What is he doing?!He needs to be supervised.' I need more supervision than I can get bro, love you
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