Sunday, April 29, 2012

Making a deal with Hashem: rehabilitation for three

I want to tell you about the visit I had with my doctor last week. Remember I said I was going to see him?

It was a good visit overall. He is pleased with his work, of course.
He looked at my x-ray and proudly stated that he is looking at a hip which does *not* need a replacement. That was good to hear, for sure!

One problem we talked about may stem from the fact that I didn't yet return to physical therapy. I don't *want* to return to physical therapy. The main problem is that my hip does not turn hardly at all in one particular angle. When he was about to test that angle, I said "please no... not that way... it doesn't work and it hurts..." but yeah, he had to try it out for himself. Thanks, bud. Ow. One angle of my hip got a grade of 60 (whatever that means), and for the other angle, the grade was 15. Yeah, that makes sense with how it feels.

I gotta get back to swimming more (but it hurts), and back to PT (also hurts). I need a routine again. I haven't been to PT in a month. Since I went to America to visit my mother and father, I just haven't gotten on the wagon again. I did make appointments to have it twice this coming week, hopefully I will be able to keep to schedule.

My mother was recently transferred to rehabilitation at a nursing home.
This is amazing news for us; when she was sick for almost two months, it was so hard to even begin to imagine we'd get to this point.

I know it is going to be the start of a long and painful road for her. It will be the rest of her life, may she live a long and healthy one. This recovery *will* be the rest of her life.
She has to regain use and coordination in her arms and hands, healing and movement in her bad knee, balance, and of course, her brain needs to work hard and recover [temporarily] lost synapses for all of these things. That one sentence, run-on as it may be, doesn't even tap into all the work that really needs to happen in order for her to have good quality to her life. We are trying not to think about this, of course, and taking it one-day-at-a-time.

Rehabilitation is so incredibly hard. I am reticent to do it myself, how can I expect my mother to dive in there and work? My problems are nothing in comparison to what she has to surmount. Soon my father, too will be in the same boat with needing rehab for his (please Gd!) new hip. He hasn't scheduled the surgery yet, but if things go well, he can be in the same rehab as my mother.

I am young with so much life in front of me. But I am so *tired*. Tired of trying to get my body back to a semblance of what it was pre NF. Tired of fighting the pain war... of living the pain war. I fall asleep at social events when I would prefer to talk with loved friends. I'm just so tired.

I will soon need to change nerve pain medicine. The "Lyrica" just isn't working anymore. I have constant pain up and down my thigh, widespread, which used to be contained by the Lyrica. It isn't anymore. Dr. Z and I will work on the problem.

I have to do this rehab. (I know my mind is wandering around subjects)
I have to do it for my children, and for Robert. Lastly I have to do it for myself.
I want to give it the 'fair go' of another three months. Dr. Rath's mantra about this surgery is that it takes 3-6 months. I am at 3. For the next three months can I commit myself to optimistically making a go of rehab and swimming regularly?

When I was younger and practicing to be a professional orchestral horn player, I practiced unending hours. Any time not spent practicing was time spent tense about when I will be able to practice again. I needed it like I needed air to breathe. Whenever I was done practicing for the day, I would go home (from practice rooms at school/grad school) a bit down knowing that there is more work to do and I need to put more time into it. I was never done practicing. It was such a pressure. That pressure never ended, even if I won the audition I was preparing for.

That pressure ended when I stopped playing.
But I get hints of it seeping in every now and then; I'll feel that my facial and lip muscles aren't what they used to be, and have to re-tell myself that it is OK now.

I am an all-or-nothing person. Always have been.
When I got out of the orchestra lifestyle, I gained a certain freedom I hadn't felt since I was an adolescent.

In the five years that have past since I was an orchestra musician, it has been all about being sick and recovering and being sick and recovering (repeat this chorus many times).
I have done rehab on these very muscles already twice. It never worked.
(Third time's a charmer, right?)

But this time is different, says Dr Rath. This is *the* fix to end all fixes.

I gotta get it in me again to be that person with that drive. To go to the gym, to go to the medical rehab and do it right. Major changes have to be made for that. But with three out of five Kashin (my maiden name) members involved with physical rehabilitation at the same juncture, Gd seems to be trying to tell us something... but I have no idea what.

If I do this, maybe Hashem will grant my parents the ability and power to do it for themselves as well.

Should I make a deal with the Big Guy?

Young Ya'akov using his muscles in perfect balance and coordination to hold himself horizontally in a vertical world.

whoa! ... a little off balance!
 perseverance prevails, strength and balance are regained.
Baruch Hashem!


  1. I guess in this world we cannot afford to be all or nothing. we gotta do our job, and let g-d do his job. recuperation might be slow, but what matters is the path we take. after you go for your excersises, you probably need to rest. it might seem slow moving to recuperation, but thats the way. wishing you and your mom refua shlaima. rochel.

  2. Rehab is the possibility and probability of something better, one day at a time... May Ha Shem send you all strength!!
    Karen Reuveni