h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Rehabilitation

How it works is, the hospital, whichever hospital, makes a determination that the patient is fit to be discharged to a unit that specializes in rehabilitative therapy, a halfway house between surgery for that broken hip or that tumor, and the sanctuary of your own home. They call around the area, find a "slot" (bed) in one of the places like this, and in comes the stretcher, bearing a patient who may or may not be aware of what is happening.

Doctors, physician's assistants and CNAs attend to your continued improvement -- knitting of bones, healing of wounds and so forth -- but another layer of staff are tasked with making you fit and ensuring your functionality on your return to your home. These are the therapists. There are three kinds of therapists: occupational, physical and restorative, but the third sort (counter-intuitively) only work with residents. And I'm not sure I've got that right. It took me a long time to figure therapy out.

The patient in the skilled hall will be tag-teamed by a physical therapist and an occupational therapist. Work begins with an evaluative interview. On the basis of this, a plan is developed for the patient to meet x number of intermediate goals over a period of y weeks (which number of weeks is likely determined by the insurer). And off you go, meeting with your physical and occupational therapists five days a week until they sign you off, tag you, and release you back into the wild.

Or not. Some of us almost make it but something comes up and we find ourselves instead moved to long term. My very first room mate here, Della (87 years old), is several doors down the hall from me. She was just recovering from a stroke and broken collarbone (from falling down when she stroked) when I arrived, and her mentation was badly affected. She has since recovered those mental faculties and when we meet up we talk about books she's reading on her e-device. She has a good spirit about her retention by Ladera, helped by the near constant attendance of her two sons.

Therapists need first to make you strong. Have you been lying down for six weeks? Sitting up may be more of a challenge than you anticipate. It was for me. I had lain on one side or another from February through to the beginning of May, and had initial difficulties that surprised no-one but me. So at first the big feat was to sit on the edge of my bed, wearing no-skid socks and resting my feet on tacky plastic, under the watchful eye of my occupational therapist, Dan (who forgave me for my churlish manners on that first day). I kept losing my balance and falling sideways.

So he guided me through a series of exercises designed to strengthen my core and overcome a huge psychological problem I had without even realizing it -- a fear of the floor. Lean forward? Not on your life! Which is where my physical therapist came in, with the Evil Green Ball.

[Amy P]

Oooh, you must tell us the tale of the Evil Green Ball!

Deb

Yes! Do tell us about the Evil Green Ball!

Your journal is just so poignant Asteroid lil. And, having had a tiny taste of some brilliant rehabilitation therapy in the past, I can endorse how wonderful the skills of these professionals is.

This reminds me of, on a much, much smaller scale, when the cast was taken off my leg after I had broken my ankle.

When feeling the floor beneath my foot, I almost fainted. For eight weeks, my foot had known nothing but the inside of the plaster. Suddenly being confronted with a floor overwhelmed my senses quite a bit.

So, to some limited extent, I can understand how you felt, Lil.