we anticipated 1-2 days of recovery and then a transfer to a rehabilitation facility, with 7-14ish days before momma was discharged for home. but all of that was somewhat tentative because there really isn't a baseline for what we can expect from my momma. let's face it, she's down to 25% limb function and the 25% she's got left to work with while the knee heals is compromised (she's due for a shoulder replacement next- oh joy).
on day three we were told that insurance denied her rehab placement. i don't understand much about insurance and how things work but I do know that like most things in this world, it all comes down to dollars and cents. the location that is optimal for her (equipped to handle a hemiplegic with brain injury, vision field cut, compromised shoulder and a whole slew of other physical limitations) doesn't come cheep. and all the insurance company sees is single joint replacement on a piece of paper. they don't see the patient. in spite of the fact that she is a real live person, she's just a procedure in their eyes. accepted or denied. and it's not supposed to be personal.
for my sisters and i, it is very personal. i was discouraged. but that was not my job for the week. my job was to be hopeful, optimistic and encouraging. i was there to lift the burden on my sister and keep my momma's head in the game of rehabilitation. and so i did. my sister, with power of attorney, appealed the denial from insurance. and then we settled into the task of waiting. my hope was that i would support in surgery and then be in Philly for transport to the next phase, to help alleviate the burden on my sister. that was not to be. and i am ok with that in spite of the fact that it would have been nice to see firsthand what her rehab environment looked like. but it's not about me. it's about her. and so for six days i simply sat with her. i helped with pain management, teeth brushing, wheel of fortune guessing, comfort of body positioning, feeding, jeopardy competitions and mental stimulation. and in that time, i've learned more about my mom. she told me about her time as a camp counselor in new hampshire and her summer spent assembling toys on the line for fisher price (who knew?). we talked about her time teaching on the military base in adana, turkey and her travels throughout euorpe and the middle east. we talked about marriage, sex (her choice! YIKES!), motherhood and politics. she told me how it felt to lose her parents and be an orphan as a pre-teen, the joys and challenges of being adopted and everything in between.
on saturday i showed up to the hospital for my last gig before heading home. PT, which is usually off-limits to family members, was quiet. i've made friends with the medical staff along the way. i don't shy away from a bedpan, sponge bath, or physical transport and i think they noticed. i think it gave me a little street cred or hospital currency. as she worked hard at walking, her therapist motioned for me to come into the gym.
"do you want to watch your mom walk?"
YES! (and honestly i'm going to be peering in from the hall anyways so you might as well make it easier on me).
and so i got to stand in front of her and she walked across the room towards me. the therapist who was spotting her said, "walk to your daughter."
and i became eclipsed with emotion. all i could see was myself 11 years ago sitting on the living room floor of my condo, coaxing ellie across the room as she took her first steps... "walk to momma, girlie.".
my mom has had to endure learning to walk three times already. she learned as a baby, taking her first steps in the world. she learned in 1975 after her aneurysm. she learned again in 2008 after she was hit by a car. and again, now in 2016, my momma will learn to walk.
i know she will, but the magnitude of it all brings me to my knees when i pause and take it all in.
as i watched her walk towards me, cautiously and ever so slowly, resolved but timid, a man called to me from across the room. it startled me for a second because i was so focused on her. he asked me if that lady was my mom.
yes. she is.
and then he went on to tell me that as he had sat in his wheelchair, waiting his turn with his therapy, he had watched her. he had just been operated on and a pin was placed in his broken ankle. he was middle-aged and fit. he said that he couldn't imagine her story. he couldn't imagine her pain. and he knew just from a few minutes of watching her that she was feisty, determined and strong. he told me that he was going to channel her in his recovery. he told me that my mom was his hero.
i told him that she was mine, too.
he wanted the cliff notes on her life... he wanted to know what her story was and how she was so strong.
and so i gave him the quick list...
dad died when she was ten
mother died when she was 12
adopted
college graduate
served/taught on an army base in turkey
athletic
mother
aneurism
raised three girls on her own
lover of jesus and bible passage reciter
hit by a car
got up again
and as i went through her story, i felt tears trickle down my cheeks. i know her story. i know who she is, but sometimes it is hard to not see her through my "child" lens- the one where she is my annoying mother trying to guide me in the right way which was often very far from the way i wanted to be guided. i sometimes forget to put on my "hero" lens.
and as i looked at this man, and thanked him for noticing her and seeing her beyond hemiplegic old woman, i noticed that he had tears trickling down his cheeks too.
"looking at someone like her, hearing her story makes me feel so silly. all i've got is this little pin and it is nothing compared to that story. i knew she was my hero, but i didn't know she was going to be that much of one!"
and then we went back to the business of learning to walk. (followed by a little snapchat sesh. giggle.)
i left philly that afternoon not knowing what the plan was going to be for her final rehab destination. it was hard to walk out of the hospital and fly across the country so very far away.
today, we received the news that she was accepted to the facility that had originally been denied by her insurer. after waiting many hours, my sister was able to assist her being transported to her next stop. we are hopeful and optimistic that she is going to be ok.
i feel pretty confident, that this girl has a few more lives left in her. this isn't the end of her story.
"do you want to watch your mom walk?"
YES! (and honestly i'm going to be peering in from the hall anyways so you might as well make it easier on me).
and so i got to stand in front of her and she walked across the room towards me. the therapist who was spotting her said, "walk to your daughter."
and i became eclipsed with emotion. all i could see was myself 11 years ago sitting on the living room floor of my condo, coaxing ellie across the room as she took her first steps... "walk to momma, girlie.".
my mom has had to endure learning to walk three times already. she learned as a baby, taking her first steps in the world. she learned in 1975 after her aneurysm. she learned again in 2008 after she was hit by a car. and again, now in 2016, my momma will learn to walk.
i know she will, but the magnitude of it all brings me to my knees when i pause and take it all in.
as i watched her walk towards me, cautiously and ever so slowly, resolved but timid, a man called to me from across the room. it startled me for a second because i was so focused on her. he asked me if that lady was my mom.
yes. she is.
and then he went on to tell me that as he had sat in his wheelchair, waiting his turn with his therapy, he had watched her. he had just been operated on and a pin was placed in his broken ankle. he was middle-aged and fit. he said that he couldn't imagine her story. he couldn't imagine her pain. and he knew just from a few minutes of watching her that she was feisty, determined and strong. he told me that he was going to channel her in his recovery. he told me that my mom was his hero.
i told him that she was mine, too.
he wanted the cliff notes on her life... he wanted to know what her story was and how she was so strong.
and so i gave him the quick list...
dad died when she was ten
mother died when she was 12
adopted
college graduate
served/taught on an army base in turkey
athletic
mother
aneurism
raised three girls on her own
lover of jesus and bible passage reciter
hit by a car
got up again
and as i went through her story, i felt tears trickle down my cheeks. i know her story. i know who she is, but sometimes it is hard to not see her through my "child" lens- the one where she is my annoying mother trying to guide me in the right way which was often very far from the way i wanted to be guided. i sometimes forget to put on my "hero" lens.
and as i looked at this man, and thanked him for noticing her and seeing her beyond hemiplegic old woman, i noticed that he had tears trickling down his cheeks too.
"looking at someone like her, hearing her story makes me feel so silly. all i've got is this little pin and it is nothing compared to that story. i knew she was my hero, but i didn't know she was going to be that much of one!"
and then we went back to the business of learning to walk. (followed by a little snapchat sesh. giggle.)
i left philly that afternoon not knowing what the plan was going to be for her final rehab destination. it was hard to walk out of the hospital and fly across the country so very far away.
today, we received the news that she was accepted to the facility that had originally been denied by her insurer. after waiting many hours, my sister was able to assist her being transported to her next stop. we are hopeful and optimistic that she is going to be ok.
i feel pretty confident, that this girl has a few more lives left in her. this isn't the end of her story.
