Two days ago Dr. Monegal stopped by and removed my stitchings for me. I was happy to see him and we got back to joking around in no time. He was satisfied that things were on track and as he was leaving I asked him if there was anything I could do. "Just be my friend," he says. Funny guy. I still remember the first time we met in person. I think there is a joke he tells everybody when he asks them how many cm they want to lengthen: "Glenn, there is only one rule to lengthening, you can't be taller than me!"
Under Claudio's recommendation and with Dr. Monegal's permission, I've been told to get off the wheelchair and start using a walker. I must say I'm suffering a little bit of
Stockholm Syndrome towards my wheelchair and missing the comfort of its seat.
So ironic. At the start of my LL planning, I was dreading the wheelchair stage, and now I find that I miss it. It's funny how our perceptions can be so changeable as we broaden our horizons and experience more things with an open mind.
My perception of disabled people has been altered, as well. I now have a better appreciation for what it's like for someone to live in a wheelchair. It takes both inner strength and inner peace to get through the day. Take, for example, something as simple as a piece of paper that has dropped on the floor: It's no one's fault that the paper has fallen, but for the person in a wheelchair that can't pick it up I tell you is one of the most profound feelings of mockery one can feel. From electrical sockets that are just out of reach, to doors that open the wrong way, everything is a constant reminder that the world has passed them by. So the next time you see someone in a wheelchair, don't avert your gaze. Instead, be the first to smile. He doesn't need your help; he just wants to know that he's a participant in this world and that society hasn't forgotten about him.
There was some miscommunication with my booking at the MIC, and they only have double rooms for single use left (no single rooms, I'm told). For Dr. Monegal's patients it's supposed to be 1470 euro but now I'm told it's 1560 euro for some reason. There are other tenants that have been told the same thing so it's not just me. User Bohemia, on the other hand, who is also staying in a double room, is paying 1470 as agreed without any problems. But he paid the day he checked-in, so maybe it's just bad luck for me. I prefer not to quibble too much about it because I don't want it to affect my mood during my recovery.
PT is painful and challenging, but I love it. Claudio is really amazing and I try hard to live up to his standards. It's not a matter of "going through the motions" everyday, because I can tell that he is keeping track of the nuanced progression of each muscle group and pushing my pain envelope ever so slightly each time. It is a tough job, because he must balance the pain inflicted with my own internal pain threshold. ROM is a moving target - if he takes it easy on me now my flexibility will suffer as I distract more and I may not achieve my target height.
I try to put on a brave face each time and say, "Give me more!" Luckily, Claudio doesn't let my bravado influence his judgment and does only what is necessary. I used to think I have a high pain threshold. Not anymore. All it takes is a few more degrees of flex to reduce me to a whimpering baby. I've been through the gamut of pain reactions: from calling out for mommy, to crying, to laughing hysterically, to grunting obscenities, to seeing spots and damn near passing out, to twitching uncontrollably. One thing I am particularly proud of myself though, is that despite the pain I've never asked him to let up or take it easy on me.
It sounds tortuous, but in reality PT is less than an hour everyday. But trust me, you will emerge from every PT session feeling like a real man, and that's just priceless.
As I finished today's PT session I limped back into the elevator, a mass of sweat and quivering legs. I was so dazed from PT I didn't even recognize my friend in the elevator. As it dawned on me, I lighted up and I grabbed my friend's hand awkwardly and we chatted ecstatically. I was originally worried about my friend, but it made me really happy and grateful to see that my friend was in high spirits.
I came back to my room and fell asleep with an ice pack on my leg.
The reason I take so many naps during the day is because I'm not able to sleep very much at night. Nights are purgatory. I average about three hours of sleep per night, waking up after one hour of sleep and spending the next two hours tossing and turning, trying to go back to sleep. I can feel it slowly taking a toll on my mental willpower, but I haven't figured out a way to combat this yet. Dr. Monegal says that sleeping pills require a prescription so maybe I will just have to suck it up. I would really prefer to just sleep for a few hours straight at night, since I'm not getting enough
slow-wave sleep right now, which I personally believe is influential for bone growth. We'll see how much of a difference it makes when I do my x-rays in 10 days...