As a kid I had a lot of surgeries to reinforce and strengthen my bones. Every time I broke my arm or leg—which happened as often as once a year—my orthopaedic surgeon would use the fracture as an opportunity to go in to replace the stainless steel rod inside the bone as I grew.
Even with all those broken bones and surgeries, I was never in hospital for more than a week. After that, I was released into the care of my parents for the rest of my six to eight weeks to complete healing the fractured bone.
This recovery has already felt very different.
It’s now been about a month since my femur fracture with likely another month to go in hospital plus further time in a live-in rehab facility. I’ve been told I won’t be able to return home until my medical team is confident that I can manage safely and independently on my own.
Part of this is simply because I’m now in my late forties and my body simply doesn’t bounce back in the same way it used to as a kid.
Mostly though my care is complex. I’m on an ever evolving cocktail of serious medications—three different types of hydromorphone (long acting, short acting plus an injection to slap down any pain spikes if necessary), Tylenol, muscle relaxants, a blood thinner to prevent clots that can happen when one is lying down all day… and so on. I also had a prolonged high heart event about a week ago likely brought on by the extreme pain and inflammation caused by the fracture, so now I’m on medication for that too.
Managing the medical stuff is tough, but it’s honestly the basic daily tasks that take up a huge part of my physical and mental bandwidth. These include activities like being spoon fed my meals because I can’t sit up and having a daily sponge bath wipe down to prevent skin irritation and bed sores. Turning me on my good side to clean me up after toileting activities is a three person job even after we dose me with extra painkillers ahead of time. The biggest sign of my improvement is the fact that I’m no longer screaming and spasming in pain when we do the nightly side rolls.
Giving up so much of my accustomed independence has been incredibly difficult at times. It’s not just losing my freedom, but also the profound change in how I’m perceived by those around me. Initially, many of the staff assumed that my inability to feed myself or perform other basic care tasks was normal for me as opposed to being the result of my broken leg.
That said, I am thankful that the staff on the unit are generally kind and respectful. They are also obviously stretched far too thin—sometimes by belligerent patients shouting about needing to go home and other times by patients who have care needs that far exceed my own.
A recent roommate was a 94yr old man whose health progressively declined over the past couple weeks. His 70yr old wife of forty years was at his bedside almost around the clock now and assisted in his care right alongside the nurses in part because there were simply not always enough hands available to keep him comfortable. It was heartbreaking to be an unintentional voyeur to their end of life saga and… well, to anyone who thinks that reducing healthcare funding by any amount is remotely a good idea, may you never be the one who has to suction out your husband’s airways to prevent him from drowning in his own phlegm.
And yes, it absolutely sounds as awful as you’re imagining...
Keeping my mind occupied in this inherently stressful environment is essential. I know from experience that an idle mind can be a breeding ground for anxiety and depression—neither of which is going to help my healing.
Thankfully technology has come a long way since the last time I was stuck in a hospital bed so I’m able to keep myself occupied with just my phone.
The above images were created in the built-in iPhone app “Freeform” using the crayon brush that I’m applying in translucent textured layers with my finger. I actually have similar apps for my iPad that specialize in mimicking analog art materials digitally, however, holding the iPad over myself is awkward and heavy and I like the simplicity of these little phone doodles.
Other activities that fill my days include:
Listening to podcasts and audiobooks. A friend introduced me to the fabulous fantasy series, “Rivers of London” by Ben Aaronovitch and I just finished the third book.
Connecting with friends and family over social media. Early on I requested folks send me videos of everyday life in the outside world and I’ve been receiving a wonderful random assortment of slice-of-life moments ever since.
Playing video games on my phone—currently a little obsessed with “Township” which is similar to something like “SimCity”
Prepping materials for a pair of grant applications for next year. We have figured out a way for me to use a laptop on my back, but you’d be surprised at how much writing can be done on one’s phone—like this very post in fact.
The highlight of my day is definitely Stefan’s evening visits. He comes by after work for a few hours that we use to catch up on the day’s activities, work through my physio exercises and sometimes enjoy some food from the outside world. We have a friend who highly recommended the healing powers of bone broth after a large dog nearly destroyed her knee when he plowed into her on the beach. Stefan’s been bringing me all manner of bone broth flavours to try, as well as keeping me supplied with Lindt chocolates that are my reward after those painful side rolls. We also listen to music, dream about all the vacations we want to take and he reads aloud from different creativity resources we’ve been wanting to delve deeper into. We’re almost finished Jacob Norby’s “The Creative Cure” and I think I have notes that could be turned into a half dozen Tilted Windmills’ workshops.
These ordinary acts of caregiving blended with all the little things we do to maintain and strengthen our bond as a romantic couple… this is the theme of my art exhibit made manifest.
In this way, the days continue to tick by. Sometimes it feels like a snail’s pace, but other times it’s hard to believe that a month has already gone by.
Healing is happening though… but I know it’s going to happen in its own time.
Thank you for the update. Thinking of you often. Wishing you the best. ❤️
Wow, Athena, I am wishing you well for recovery and am inspired by your continuing to write and the art you are creating even with all that is going on. Thank you for sharing your journey and also your meaningful insights. 💞