My husband and I know each other well, which helped us to quickly fall into a regular routine at home for his recovery. At that time, I was able to post blogs more often. I had updated on his condition but left out some of the drama.
First things first … I called to complain about Jen, that nasty healthcare worker who forced her way into our home on the day of Gary’s return. Her threat about Workman’s Comp not paying unless she evaluated him immediately was a lie. I learned she could’ve come back in the next day or two.
The healthcare company where she worked, said they never had a complaint about her before. Did they mean to say I was the problem? Anyway, they agreed never to send her to our house again. It’s a shame that she’s probably continuing her insensitive behavior toward other patients.
A nurse came three times a week to check Gary’s blood pressure and temperature. The pins dredged into his bones needed to be cleaned twice a day. Once we showed the nurse how to do it, she cleaned them three times a week. We cleaned them the other eleven.
I was dealing with some pain from a health issue of my own but hated to complain given what Gary was going through. A home healthcare aide was supposed to help out with some things around the house. We cut her from three times a week to only once, because her incompetence tended to leave me more work than before she came. What I needed help with the most was the grocery shopping. We were told that shopping wasn’t part of her job description. Gary sent the aide out to do it anyway. He gave her half the list, and I shopped for the other half the next day.
The days dragged by for Gary, my blue-collar-husband-who-needs-to-be-active. He felt like he was under house-arrest and joked about how the metal device on his foot was the most torturous home ankle monitor ever made. Workman’s Comp wouldn’t pay to transport him anywhere but the doctor’s office, which we ended up doing on our own anyway (every 2 weeks), and it was a struggle.
In the evenings when I walked Max, Gary wheeled outside and sat in the driveway until our return. It was his only time outdoors for fresh air. Well, as fresh as the 98% humidity of Florida in the summertime can offer.
Three months after the accident, Gary had surgery to remove the device holding his foot together (fixater and the cast). He still needed to remain completely off of his feet for another month afterward and wore boot-casts.
I’ll never forget the day he stood for the first time. I wanted to throw myself in front of him in case he fell. He said it was surreal looking down from such a high vantage point after sitting for so long.
Throughout the process, I never doubted he’d walk again. But, I never imagined I had the strength to survive such a trial. That strength is in everyone, I just never believed it was in me before. Believe it is in you, too.
If you’ve followed along with this blog series, I thank you. I planned for this to be the conclusion, but something recently happened regarding his injury. I now have material for another blog installment.
In the mean time, if you’d like to read the updates I posted during his recovery, the links are below.
We had some drama with the surgeon’s office when I wrote this post: Before I Calm Down.
The update on that office drama was posted here: It works out in the end.
I posted a huge milestone on forward progress in this post about underwear.
Here is an inspiring blog of a man who can stand: Update Central.
Here is the happy news about his easing back into work: Look Mom, No Casts!