Twist and Shout

Today was my first real outpatient physical therapy appointment, and while it had some painful moments, it had one absolutely delightful one.

Before the therapist started working on my broken left pinky, she had me dip my hand in hot parrafin. It was spa day for my hand. If only the rest if me could have fit in that tiny tub. Once everything was loosened up, torture began. Bending, twisting, stretching a little finger that did not want to obey. But in time, it will start behaving more like the finger I knew and loved, and I will dutifully continue the exercises.

Next was the right arm and shoulder. No hot wax bath, but a few minutes of heat to loosen it up. She had me let my arm go limp and she pulled, she pushed, she prodded. I had to remember to keep breathing. It hurt, but I saw progress. Little movements became bigger. And amazingly, after all the manipulation, I feel pretty good.

Another big accomplishment today was hiring a home aide. We got a recommendation from my cousin, and he was spot on. The aide will likely come two days a week so Jerry will be able to teach and have a life again. She did a test lift of me and it was a breeze. The hardest part for me will be to ask her to do things other than transfer me. I know, we are paying her, but it just seems weird.

Last night was the night if 1,000 felafels. Friends brought over dinner and they delivered the family dinner from Lebanese Taverna. Cousins are coming over for dinner this weekend to help us eat the 995 leftover felafels.

This was the first time I had seen these friends since the accident, and like so many, they too seemed surprised that I'm, well, me. While I can't lift with my arms and I am missing half a leg, I'm still myself. Same snarky sense of humor. Same love of good wine.

While I did have two brain bleeds they fixed themselves and left me with no deficits. If they had caused damage I'm not sure I'd have wanted to survive. But they didn't and I'm here, and damn glad of it.

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