Parkwood was very structured. Therapies were scheduled and tracked on a wipe board near the nurses’ station. It was all very much regimented. My therapies took up much of the day beginning at 10 until noon and again from noon until mid afternoon then it were time for a 4:30 supper. After about a month had passed I was able to go home for supper when Mike was able to pick me up until about 7:00-8:00. With the scheduled therapies and the regular trips home the 5 ½ month stay went fairly fast. It was almost like it was my job to go to therapy. Monetarily the pay was bad but the regular therapies meant I was getting better all the time. That was the trade off.
After a shower and breakfast, mornings begun with Physical Therapy, Occupational Therapy, Speech Therapy and a weekly Recreational Therapy. Each therapy targeted a deficiency I was experiencing. Physical Therapy dealt with teaching me balance and walking again (which I am still working on). Occupational therapy was arm including finger (writing) movement as well as any mental deficiencies. Speech Therapy is obvious. It also dealt with the correct breathing while talking. Recreational therapy introduced new ways of enjoying old activities as well as new activities and hobbies.
Physical Therapy was a priority. Gym time was available in the afternoons. This was part of Physical therapy that increased cardio and strength. I have always been one to work out so this was a welcomed activity and I would spend extra time on the bike, improving my cardio. I would increase the time and level each week.
I looked forward to occupational therapy since it had a great deal of interaction with both patients and therapists. It was basically a room full of patients and therapists working one on one on each individuals needs. I would sometimes overhear what else was going on in the room. One particular time a patient and therapist was working across the table and I couldn’t help but overhear. (However I was a bit of an eavesdropper) but in this case it was purely accidental but funny nonetheless. The therapist was asking the patient the cost of some popular grocery items.
The young therapist asked an older Polish ‘grandma’ what would be the cost of a loaf of bread and a then a can of Coke. Her response was $10.00 for the loaf of bread and $10.00 for the can of coke she said in her thick polish accent. I started giggling and said laughing under my breath to my therapist ‘I wonder where she shops’?
Karma slapped me in the face as she got up and walked away at the end of her session as I sat waiting in my wheelchair for a porter to come and wheel me to my next appointment.
At the end of working out in the gym this same short polish grandma, Agnes, decided to be helpful and push my wheelchair upstairs to my room. It was myself, Benj a physio therapist and this tiny woman with a very can do attitude. When Benj turned around to speak with someone, this woman began pushing the wheelchair for him while he spoke to someone that he knew.
Benj joined us just as the elevator doors were opening. Agnes was so short she couldn’t see over my head even as I sat in the wheelchair but that didn’t stop her from wanting to help. The doors opened with a ping the occupants got off and Agnes proceeded forward pushing my feet into the side and then she hit my feet into the back wall of the elevator as she tried to get the wheelchair and herself before the doors closed. From my perspective it was bang bang. Her reaction was as though nothing wrong was happening.
It was an accident waiting to happen since the combination of myself being tall and Agnes being short she couldn’t see over my head. So one couldn’t expect her to see my feet or any object they might hit. When we reached the 3rd floor Agnes proceeded to her next appointment in the opposite direction and Benj and I laughed as we proceeded to my room.
I am fairly sure I would have been bored stiff and even more depressed with the situation each day if I wasn’t able to laugh at the laughable moments. I may cry a lot more now but thankfully I laugh just as much. I guess that is my lesson ‘don’t take life too seriously’. Find the things that are funny and laugh at them... discreetly
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