For those of you who know me, you know that I am weird. Medically speaking, of course. My little preemie grandson & I compete for number of scars on one's body. Just kidding.. but we have counted them.
Anyway, a few years back I randomly developed a strep infection in my knee joint. Yeah, I know - you've never heard of that. Well, me either! Went through surgery, a long hospital stay, long term antibiotics via PICC line, and about 9 months of outpatient rehab. Through it all my spirits remained pretty high, and I was back to work sooner than anyone expected, dragging my PICC line and butt-pouch of IV antibiotic fluids around.
So, I heal. I get most of the bend back in my knee. Then BAM! I develop strep in my hip joint. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Who gets that? Who gets that twice?? Me, that's who. Luck of the dead man, as a good friend used to always say.
Anyway, same surgeon, same painful stay in the hospital. Same PICC line (different arm). But, this time was a bit different. Yep, they sent me for some inpatient rehabilitation at the renowned Siskin Hospital for Physical Rehabilitation in lovely downtown Chattanooga.
For one of the few times in my life I engaged in a little Pity Party. No other guests showed up, there were no gifts at this Pity Party. Just me. Alone. With my flippin' PICC line and my flippin' IV bag hanging around my flippin' waist. All night that first night I listened to LifeForce land and take off from the roof of Erlanger Hospital. I snubbed, I sniffed, I even outright cried. I was Pitiful.
They rehabbed me physically and occupationally. Taught me to pedal a bike with my hands, to put my drawers on with this long-handled contraption, to use a 4' long shoehorn to get my feet in my house shoes. Oh, it was great fun! Then there was the group exercise room. Fun, Fun, Fun. Here I was, in my 40s, in a facility I had visualized as being where old people go. Boo Hooo Hooooo. Party continues.
I had wonderful therapists, I must say. They were so freakin' positive you just wanted to spit. One smelled like Peony Body Lotion, from Bath & Body. So strong, in fact, my eyes watered. Or maybe those were Pity Tears. I can't remember.
On my 1st full day there I saw my Battalion of therapists, who smiled with perfect teeth and youthful health and told me "That Which Does Not Kill Us Only Makes Us Stronger". SHUT UP, ALREADY!! Can you not see I am indulging myself, that I am wallowing?!?! About the 4th time I heard this uplifting phrase, I mentally pictured myself whacking this beautiful young woman with my 4' long shoe horn! I really did. I had that Red Rage I have only read about (well, I experienced it once at the now-defunct Saturn dealership, but that's another story).
I was so taken aback at myself! I was truly on the verge of going all Marie Antoinette on someone! Quiet, sweet little Joy had a MOMENT! I was very thankful to be wheeled back to my room, by the nicest man talking about the collard greens he had for lunch (I had gruel). Now, I'm feeling sorry for myself AND I'm mad as a mashed cat, to boot!
What turned me around? Well, I would say it was when my Angel Aide named Annie wheeled me naked into the shower in a PVC pipe chair. But, that wouldn't be it. Or when I didn't quite get an aide to my room quick enough and did something I haven't done since cloth diapers..
It was my 2nd day there.. I am wheeled down (again by collard green man, & I would have killed for them at that point) to the pool area. I see this young teen being lowered by full body harness into the pool. I am placed on the exercise mat with a lady who has lost both legs at the knee, and is battling for all she's worth to save her surviving stumps. During that exercise session she had a diabetic episode and passed out. All around me are people in terrible physical condition, from a variety of ailments they had little chance of overcoming.
That evening ended my self-inflicted Pity Party. That was it. ENOUGH! Although I didn't know how this 2nd strep thing was going to turn out, I was going to be ok. (Turns out I had yet another strep episode on the same hip, before getting my bionic hip inserted). I discovered the JOY that had been in me all along, that I had pushed down deep while I self-indulged.
With that epiphany behind me I still must say, TO THIS VERY DAY when I hear someone say "That Which Doesn't Kill Us Only Makes Us Stronger" I still have to quell the urge to smack them! Can't they find something catchier? Maybe "You Got This" or just "QuitYerBellyAchin"?!
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