I think this will be my first ever monthly round-up where only one notable thing happened, and if you read my January 2022 Round Up, then you know what I’m on about…
I Was Discharged From Rehab
I remember going to the session feeling like I usually did on rehab day. I did a few transfers from my powerchair to the plinth, with just my walking frame – it was going great. I did everything I possibly could to push the fact that this was my last session to the back of my mind, I didn’t want my emotions getting the better of me.
It was when I was having a break from transferring and talking to Erica, that I said “This is my last session, isn’t it?” – and I managed to say that without even tearing up so I was still doing alright. Erica nodded then began writing something on a notepad. I can’t remember what she wrote exactly but it was something to do with how far I had come.
That was it. That set me off.
Erica, I’m not mad at you for this, I could never be mad at you, I think the world of you too much.
That gym holds so many memories. It’s where I managed to stand for a solid 40 minutes with a standing aid which I can’t remember the name of. I only remember it because of how long I was standing and that me and Sophie tried to do the Macarena – not really possible whilst using a standing aid and you have no co-ordination whatsoever, but there you go.
It’s where I took my first steps, with the support of a hoist. I cried my eyes out when I was lowered back into my powerchair when that happened. It was just so hard to believe I managed to do it after everything that happened.
It’s where I stopped physio mid-session (while I was an in-patient) because I couldn’t concentrate due to an incident with a member of staff. I drove myself back to my room because I was upset and felt so low. I’ll talk about this one day, maybe.
It’s where I practised walking down the aisle with either one of my ex-PT’s, my mum and Jill.
It’s where I transferred from my powerchair to the plinth, with just my walking frame for the first time.
Now, I was sitting here, crying, looking at Daisy – my 15-month-old daughter, thinking what the hell…
To say that time has gone quickly would be an understatement.
But the part from the last session that hurt me the most was that my ex-PT (the Yorkshire Git) was there and I couldn’t say bye to him because he was with a patient. That and the fact I couldn’t say bye to him, nor Erica, Grace, or Sophie really fucking hurt (you’ll know how much it hurts because I don’t usually swear in my blog posts unless for emphasis).
I just wanted to hug them. Not leave without saying goodbye. It really hurts.
If you follow me on social media, then you might have seen this post.
That is the reality of an ongoing recovery taking a new direction. Something that has been a constant in your life, taken away.
Everybody else is happy for me, celebrating, and congratulating me. If you’ve followed my journey, then you’ll know that I’m not okay. I feel lost. It’s been 20 days and I’m still crying.
Sorry if this post has disappointed you, but I’m not going to lie to you and pretend I had a great month when I didn’t. Hopefully, a normal styled round up post will reappear next month.
