...steps, that is. She did the stair test today. "I've seen these things before", she thinks; "three steps up with a handrail and three down the other side - easy". So then the physio says "Let's just go down the corridor and see you walk up the stairs." Stairs? A whole flight?!
Well, it was no problem, really - but coming back down: "Just bend forward and hold on to the banister ahead of you" -Oh, no! That's the shortcut to the quick way down, that is. Not our girl - she has other ideas. So after a small disagreement with the physio she came down standing up straight, holding the banister by her side (helegant, what?). She's not good at taking orders, my wife.
Actually, that's her only grumble about the hospital: the physio and the Pain Team want to treat her just exactly like any other patient - follow the formula. You'd think with a ward full of hips and knees, they'd realise spine cases are a bit different, and spina bifida cases even more so. She's had a lifetime of learning how best to make the most of limited mobility and deal with pain - they should listen a bit more. Actually, the Occupational Therapist was a lot better, and my girl has worked out her own pain medication plan with one of the more sensible doctors, who could tell she knew what she was talking about.
So, to cut a long story short, it's definite - home on Saturday.
She did whisper a little tale to me: a knee patient in the next bed had a visitor, who examined the six-inch scar down the middle of her knee and said "Coo, that's a big scar". The Little Woman says she had to restrain herself from yanking up her PJ top and saying "Call that an incision - get a load of this!" She's no stranger to scars. Sometimes she has conversations with people that remind me of that scene between Quint and Hooper on the Orca.
Anyway, I started this far too late tonight, and I've got to get some sleep while I can, before she comes home and runs me totally ragged!
Nighty-night
"Hubby".
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