The Swiss are hard to impress. Thursday I went to REHAB Basel for my annual checkup – jahreskontrolle. I was so excited to show the staff who helped me recover for five months what progress I’ve made over the past year. I decided to leave my wheelchair behind for the day long appointment, and I started the morning with lots of medical tests. As I watched the PA go from the fourth to the fifth vial of blood draining from my arm, I began to second guess the decision to leave the wheelchair behind at hour one of six. I spent an hour and a half doing blood tests, lung tests, heart tests, and answering lots of medical questions.
I managed to walk out of the office with a voucher for lunch and found Katherine who had given up her day to drive me to Basel and wait out my hours of appointments. When we got our lunches, one of my nurses joined us and invited me to her wedding. It was a small joy to reconnect and share what good things have happened for both of us over the past year. After I finished eating, I still had some time before I started my next series of tests and assessments, so I headed slowly towards the elevators to see who might be on duty in my old station. Before I made it there, I saw one of my favorite nurses walking towards me as she began her lunch break. I joined her and another nurse and spent a few minutes telling them how great the improvements over the past year have been before heading to the physiohalle.
For all of you who have been following my story since my stay in REHAB, I’m sad to report that Alex wasn’t the one to do my assessment. She’s on holiday – I asked. However, Bilijana worked with me once before and remembered the condition I left in. After half an hour of test, she reported that there was no significant increase in my strength or function. I’ll be honest, I was a little disappointed to hear that. “But I’m walking so much better now!” I insisted. “Ok, show me.” I stood up and walked a few meters before turning around to have Bilijana confirm that I was, in fact, carrying myself much better than when I left.
Next, I made my way to the ergotherapie and waited for my assessment there. Isabelle wasn’t there either which was another small disappointment, but I met with a new ergo and answered lots of questions about how I spend less time in my wheelchair than before and can still move my arms all directions. He did notice that due to the extra use of my arms, my neck and shoulders hold a lot of tension. There might be some other stress factors contributing to that…
My final stop was the conference with one of the doctors on staff. It wasn’t the one from my station, so our appointment was a little longer as we talked about some of my condition that he hadn’t see before or known well. We talked about the future therapy plan, and he recommended that I continue with intensive therapy, and he was no less than disgusted that my American insurance won’t continue to pay for it. He provided anecdotal evidence of people a similar age to me with similar injuries who didn’t give enough attention to their recovery ended up regressing years down the road. He stressed the need for me to continue with therapy as well as not overwork myself in the coming years. Jumping back to full time work and quitting therapy too soon could mean that ten years from now I’m back at square one permanently. It was a sobering conversation to be sure.
The next day, some of my favorite Canadians drove me out to hippotherapie. While I concentrated hard on the work I was doing on the horse, sweet Nadia drew me the precious picture placed above. She presented it to me when I got off the horse, and her mom clarified that it was a drawing of me walking without my sticks.
My day at REHAB was full of medical statistics and the reality of long term disability; my day at horse therapy was a reminder that God’s not done writing my story yet.
