Lets all Laugh at the Cripple

This morning I took my first venture out into the world ALL BY MYSELF since my surgery! I was literally so scared about taking the 45 minute drive into the surgical center that I couldn't sleep last night. After a long morning dragging on I finally was dressed, complete with my hair and makeup done and decided to brave it and leave.

First stop- Gas Station.

Radio blaring, sun is shining- I am feeling really good. As I pull my little car up to the pump I park it and open the door to the gas cap. The sun shines down on my face and I feel like I could conquer the world. Reaching down I go to twist off the cap and twist my left arm too hard and fall against the pump. Immediately I realize that I cannot take the gas cap off. I try again, this time with my right, to no avail. Again, I try with my left, then with my right. Suddenly and unexpectedly I burst into tears. "NO!" I wail and stomp my foot in frustration.

The man at the pump across from me looks at me awkwardly but then turns away. I again try and whimper in pain as I try to open it up. Finally he leaves his truck and approaches me. "Miss- do you need some help?" He asks. I nod and whimper. "What's wrong?" He prys.

"I cant open my gas cap and I'm crippled and I had a surgery!" I pause to unzip my hoodie to show him my shoulder scars. "And my arm is weak and its sticking and I-I-I." I then leave and sit in my car for a moment, sniffing and sobbing. I realize that I looked like a complete and total idiot but I couldn't help it. Finally, with dryer eyes I emerge from my vehicle and thank the man, who is also having problems opening it. After a few moments it finally comes free and while I paid, he began to help me pump the gas. I thanked him numerous times and then continued on my way to the surgery center.

Next Stop- Realizing I Shouldn't Go the Freeway

So instead I go the long way. The way that adds another 45 minutes to the 45 minute commute.
Meanwhile I got stuck behind every granny and mother with a mini-van in the state. I'm just glad I left early.

Finally - Surgery Center

As I pull into the surgery center a catering van is leaving and almost takes me out, I swerve, my car bounces onto the curb and I fly into the parking garage like a scene from a movie. Scared shitless I pull into the first parking stall I find and start to whimper. At this point in the day I feel like a little animal and less of a human, and force myself inside.

While inside I am shaking from the adrenaline rush- but my PT is more worried about a new twitch in my arm. Lo and behold my back had a nerve pinch that would cause my arm to do it. So I required a ton of heat and electric stimulation until he could page the chiropractor on call to pop my back. As I lay there with the heat packs I realized two things about PT.

Every time I go to PT I do two things (and enjoy both thoroughly)
1. I lay on my back the whole time.
2. I count ceiling tiles.

While giggling over this the PT returned, they popped my back and made me chug the water (to avoid the toxicity). Then sent my happy butt on its way.
That's my amusing day.

Halfway There

I miss patients. The griping, the moaning, the lame jokes at 2 am and the honest heart-to-hearts I am able to have with my patients. The never-ending trips to the bathroom with the women and the triple checking on the men cause you know how much IV fluid they had. I miss taking care of people.

I miss driving to work when the sun sets and leaving just as the sun rises. Staying late just to talk to the day nurses and arriving early because you love your job. I miss singing out loud and off key to my EMT play list and chugging down a chocolate milk and a power bar. Drinking crappy coffee til 4 am and noshing on the junk food the veteran nurse hauls in with her. Having long talks and deep conversations about life, love and all the cruelty in between while that one patients sleeps.

I miss being able to lift things, and do things. Being able to do all the laundry in one day without getting in trouble and being able to clean up the apartment. I miss being able to get myself dressed every day without help, and being able to do my hair cute and girly. Being able to toss on a pair of scrubs and look as crummy as the patient, but tossing my hair up and being able to look and feel like a character out of 'Greys.'

I miss being optimistic about life and medicine. Being able to see the beauty in all things. But I've learned that pessimistic is okay every now and then. I miss being able to be pain free and always happy-go-lucky, to where the pain is under control and I can deal. I miss working, and being around others.
More than anything I miss being the caretaker, not the one needing care.