A Day in the LIfe - Rehab by the Numbers - Part eight

Continues...Carolie rejoins the blog

Eventually, I achieved my goal and was moved into the Rehabilitation Ward where I met some lovely older women who had also had strokes.  They were  more independent than I was,  and they were able to move about in wheelchairs, using their arms to propel themselves to the gym, the shower and to the dining room without needing a nurse, or one of the ward assistants.  I was determined to learn this new skill as I had never before propelled a wheelchair.  I was also anxious that I might fail;  the steering was confusing for me at first, and on a number of attempts I met with the wall.  Oops! 

I managed to follow others down a corridor to the dining room, where I learned to guide the wheelchair up to the table and to park between the white linen table napkins that had been set out before the evening meal.  At last I was able to have more solid food.  This proved a huge disappointment, as what sounded appetizing on the order sheet, filled out the previous day, was often tasteless and too salty, especially for people who were stroke victims. I was also challenged by having to use knives and forks, by myself.  My left hand ached when I tried to cut the tough chicken or roast, lamb or beef.  

One of the women, whose name was Shirley, was an artist with works, she said, hung in the National Gallery here in Canberra. Her daughter had brought in one of Shirley’s superb works to decorate the dull walls of the ward. Now that I had moved, I hoped that the singing could continue. But one of the sisters in charge was worried that it might disturb the other patients.  The other women were very happy to have the singing and would ask if the “choir” was coming today when they saw me at meal times in the dining room.   

Once I had moved to the new ward, Mark transferred the vibrant posters made by the children. Soon, there was a complaint from the sister in charge, about hanging things on the wall. I was distressed as the posters were my guide for the location of my bed. They were a happy reminder of my former life at school.  One of the girls who came to sing, helped solve the problem by making a hanging out of bright fabric on which cards and messages could be pinned. 

It was a delight to have community singing. Once the singing was accepted, with certain restrictions, it became a regular part of my gym therapy. A group of parents of the girls organised to bring them to the hospital on a regular basis. At one time when my speech had sufficiently improved, Mark brought in my mobile phone and I was able to make calls and to receive them. I had a call from a cousin who is a physio therapist; she was just about to board a plane and phoned me from the airport. Her last final words of advice were to “do what the physios say”. 

If I was in the gym, the singing group came into the gym and sang with me there. Other patients enjoyed the visits and joined in. They would look forward to these visits and would ask me if the “Choir” was coming today. As my balance improved, I was able to bob up and down in time with the beat. One day I noticed one of the other patients doing the same thing too. If I was in the ward then my visitors were encouraged to sing too. Soon my friend had put together a book with lyrics on the front of which was typed:

                                                   “Carolie’s Visitor’s

                                                         Song Book

                      A collection of songs that anybody can sing

                         To help with Carolie’s music rehab.

                      Please help to sing a song. It will do you good as well as Carolie.”  

 It certainly did me good, as well as being enjoyed by the other participants. One teacher later shared how much she had enjoyed singing “Eidelveiss”, from the “Sound of Music”, when visiting me in hospital. It was a regular request to be sung from one of the other patients, who enjoyed our singing. Eventually my singing improved and as we continued I was able to reach higher notes. The singing seemed to improve my speech as well and I became more confident to speak and more articulate.

One very enjoyable aspect of being on the Rehab. Ward, was the occasional visit to the Rehab. Kitchen, where I was supervised by occupational therapists making cups of tea. One of the assistants was a parent of a former pupil from my school. I greatly enjoyed our frequent conversations about the school and its fabulous music program and, also, the very supportive parent community.  

To be continued....