A recent conversation with my landlady (anyone looking for an apartment in State College, PA?):
(I'm talking to her about giving up my lease, since I'm deferring a semester, and she knows the general situation as I got burned while starting a fire with gasoline)
Her: So how are you doing dear?
Me: Oh, much better, thanks! Just one spot on my right thigh that's still healing.
Her: Well, I guess you've learned your lesson, haven't you.
Me: *blink* Uh, heh, yeah, I guess I have.
Her: I bet your mother must say that to you every day!
Me: Well, no. She doesn't. She's very sensitive to my feelings on the subject.
Her: *awkward moment of realization* Oh! I'm sorry!
Me: It's okay, more people say that than you would think... etc etc
And it's true. There haven't been many, but there have been a handful of people who have looked at me - looked down at me from their high horses - and proclaimed from on high "WELL I GUESS YOU'VE LEARNED YOUR LESSON!" I don't even know what to say to that. Well, except what I have been saying, which is 'Heh, yeah, I'll say!' (smile, nod, walk away) Anyway. I just find it annoying (infuriating) and wish people wouldn't toss out that phrase quite so lightly. Or even at all.
I totally won in that conversation though. Zing.
Today has had its ups and downs! Mostly ups though :). We went to see Greg at the bike shop (Class Cycles, Southbury, CT - best bike people around!!) to look for a pair of bike shorts. I've graduated to compression on my legs, and my Widows leggings aren't going to cut it! Roy, the owner, mentioned that athletes nowadays are using actual compression tights after races and stuff, which I find fascinating. I would imagine it would shorten recovery time (after a race) drastically! We ended up with a full length pair of thermal tights, but we might order the others later.
The down was that when I got home, I decided I would clean up the pile of wood that I tried to burn. Most of the pieces were light and easily moved, but one was big and unwieldy, and I ended up banging my leg on it. YEOWCH. But, all the wood is moved and it looks nicer now.
I think that's about it - OH. Dan came over tonight and we had a pretty good game of battleship. Unmedicated, I trounced him. ;) And I even knew whose turn it was most of the time.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
Day 41 - Wound Center Appointment
Today I had a check-up at the Wound Center. One of the things I've been thinking about is how this experience has made it so much easier to just absolutely and completely love people I've hardly met. This is one of the few times in my life (at least in recent years) that I've had to completely rely on other people. Their receptiveness to me, pride in my small accomplishments, encouragement through everything... I could go on and on (and I have). So many small things that make such an enormous difference.
Anyway, my appointment went pretty well. My right thigh wound, which was the deepest of all my wounds, had 'hyper-granulated', meaning that, well, it basically pulled a teacher's pet and outdid itself. The center of the wound was deep, and so the skin had to grow up from underneath before it could heal over. Unfortunately, it got going too quickly and made a sort of mini-mountain in the middle - an area of raised open wound. 'Skin can't go up mountains' is pretty much what they told me, and the skin that had grown (it's hyper-granulated, remember?) wasn't particularly good quality. So, they burned it back off. Ouch. First they numbed up the area, then they brought out these tiny sticks of silver nitrate (remember my friend from before?). They actually looked just like matches, with concentrated AgNO3 on the tips. So I got a nice, under control chemical burn. Then they bandaged me up, and asked if I'd like to push my appointment out to 3 weeks this time. NO! said I. So 2 weeks it is.
After I went to visit my friends in the burn unit, and to show them my progress. Needless to say, they were very happy to see me, and very impressed with my new skin! (I'm pretty impressed with my new skin too, when it isn't itching.) I asked them about volunteering, and they gave me the number of the Bridgeport volunteering office, and also looked up for me a society of burn survivors that work to help other burn patients. I'm excited about looking into that a lot more. I wasn't able to see the collies this week (alas!) but hopefully when I go back in 2 weeks I'll be able to arrange a meeting :D.
This post is getting pretty rambly (probably because of the hour) so I'll just wrap it up here!
Anyway, my appointment went pretty well. My right thigh wound, which was the deepest of all my wounds, had 'hyper-granulated', meaning that, well, it basically pulled a teacher's pet and outdid itself. The center of the wound was deep, and so the skin had to grow up from underneath before it could heal over. Unfortunately, it got going too quickly and made a sort of mini-mountain in the middle - an area of raised open wound. 'Skin can't go up mountains' is pretty much what they told me, and the skin that had grown (it's hyper-granulated, remember?) wasn't particularly good quality. So, they burned it back off. Ouch. First they numbed up the area, then they brought out these tiny sticks of silver nitrate (remember my friend from before?). They actually looked just like matches, with concentrated AgNO3 on the tips. So I got a nice, under control chemical burn. Then they bandaged me up, and asked if I'd like to push my appointment out to 3 weeks this time. NO! said I. So 2 weeks it is.
After I went to visit my friends in the burn unit, and to show them my progress. Needless to say, they were very happy to see me, and very impressed with my new skin! (I'm pretty impressed with my new skin too, when it isn't itching.) I asked them about volunteering, and they gave me the number of the Bridgeport volunteering office, and also looked up for me a society of burn survivors that work to help other burn patients. I'm excited about looking into that a lot more. I wasn't able to see the collies this week (alas!) but hopefully when I go back in 2 weeks I'll be able to arrange a meeting :D.
This post is getting pretty rambly (probably because of the hour) so I'll just wrap it up here!
Day 39 - Some kind of normalcy
Today my mom's cousins from Colorado were visiting (they're visiting family on the east coast), and for the first time I felt capable of getting a little dressed up. Which is to say that I pulled on some Wellesley sweats, a shirt my mom and I got at Kmart, and my scarf from Rome. It was definitely putting the scarf on that did it for me - I haven't worn a scarf since Wellesley, I think, and it had become so much the norm for me. I clipped back my (clean) hair, and headed out to socialize. I still got tired out pretty easily (standing still is irritating to my legs if I do it for too long!), but it was an interesting experience hanging out with people who didn't know that I'd been injured - having something other than my recovery be the center of the conversation was a very welcome change. It's so easy to get myopic when you're living with a long-term thing, and since I have to be so careful with the treatment of my new skin and my one small still open wound (which requires a dressing change every day) blah blah blah, I'd almost forgotten there were other things going on.
In this same vein: I talked with my advisor at Penn State the other day, and I'm going to be doing some research while I'm home! I'm also going to be taking a class online (differential equations... anyone know a good online place to take it?), and (I hope) doing some volunteering in the burn unit at Bridgeport. It's nice to feel capable of doing something other than focusing on myself!
In this same vein: I talked with my advisor at Penn State the other day, and I'm going to be doing some research while I'm home! I'm also going to be taking a class online (differential equations... anyone know a good online place to take it?), and (I hope) doing some volunteering in the burn unit at Bridgeport. It's nice to feel capable of doing something other than focusing on myself!
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Day 35 - 11 Harrowhouse
Today, I finally finished this book that I've been working on (on and off) for the last month. We watched a movie on Netflix sometime towards the beginning of the summer called (surprise) 11 Harrowhouse. It was so bad, I thought that it had to be based on a terrific book. There was virtually no dialogue, and the narration, which clued us in as to what was going on, was awkward and sounded as though it had been added after the movie had been made. It turns out that there are two versions of this film - you got it: one (the original) without narration, and one (the one we saw) with. HAH.
Anyway, this may be one of the only times I say this, but I think I may actually prefer the movie to the book. Don't get me wrong, the book was well written, but it was the kind of thing that sort of floofed along on this little puff of unreality and then WHAM BAM main characters that we've come to know and love in all their oddities are assassinated in each other's arms and it's over. Oops. I'm sorry. Were you thinking of reading this book? Don't worry, you'd have to ask me to borrow my copy, as it's out of print (Greg tracked it down for me). Which is to say, the difficulty of finding it outweighs the worth of reading it. I'm actually a little bit disgusted that I let myself be dragged along for so long. I did read a few other books in between, but I continued to return to 11 Harrowhouse. Today I finally sat myself down and finished it off. Bam.
Today was a pretty slow and straightforward day. Ken, my physical therapist, came by and we went through my stretches and did some strength exercises. He's funny - I have a great deal of strength in my legs, and I admit, I thought I was stronger than him. He's been letting me believe that for the last few weeks, but today we were doing 'press leg into bed' which is where you, the patient, lie flat on the bed and press your whole leg into the bed. Start at 5 times per leg, and add 5 reps every week until you're doing 15. Don't start at 15, you may hurt yourself. Anyway, the strength variation of this involved Ken holding my leg under my knee and keeping it up while I try to push it down. Normally, I get my leg to the bed with no trouble, but I think Ken was tired of letting me think I was stronger (I would have been too) and he just held my leg there. I was putting my entire weight and leg strength into getting my leg to the bed, and it wouldn't budge. I couldn't help myself: I started laughing. The whole thing was just too funny. I mean, how did I ever think I was stronger than him? Seriously, he's a physical therapist. He does this stuff all day. Plus, he has biceps.
Ken says my progress is 'excellent' and says he'll wait to hear the verdict from my appointment on Monday, but he will probably cut me loose soon. I am slowly developing his addiction to Arnold Palmer half lemonade half iced tea so that he'll have to keep visiting me. I'll write about this later when I get to talking about the weeks when I got home, but just so you can imagine him: Ken is about a half a foot taller than me and is probably in his early-mid 60s. He used to be in the navy, I think (he has an anchor tattoo on his arm, but it's old and the edges are blurred), and wears all white. His hair is white, and he has a crew cut. He hasn't mentioned anything recently, but he tells me that I have benefitted a lot from military treatment of burns, and based on his stories, I believe it. I'm also so incredibly glad that I got burned now and can take advantage of all of that knowledge, rather than 20, 30, 40 years ago. It's terrifying to hear of how burns used to be treated - from applying butter when you first burn yourself (DON'T - it actually fuels the burn. Cold water is the best initial treatment, NOT ice, as some people think.) to methods of cleaning (whirlpools, no morphine. blargh). Yikes, yikes yikes.
Okay - sunken treasure associated with the Taj Mahal just walked into the pawn shop (see Netflix - Pawn Stars)... more later!
Anyway, this may be one of the only times I say this, but I think I may actually prefer the movie to the book. Don't get me wrong, the book was well written, but it was the kind of thing that sort of floofed along on this little puff of unreality and then WHAM BAM main characters that we've come to know and love in all their oddities are assassinated in each other's arms and it's over. Oops. I'm sorry. Were you thinking of reading this book? Don't worry, you'd have to ask me to borrow my copy, as it's out of print (Greg tracked it down for me). Which is to say, the difficulty of finding it outweighs the worth of reading it. I'm actually a little bit disgusted that I let myself be dragged along for so long. I did read a few other books in between, but I continued to return to 11 Harrowhouse. Today I finally sat myself down and finished it off. Bam.
Today was a pretty slow and straightforward day. Ken, my physical therapist, came by and we went through my stretches and did some strength exercises. He's funny - I have a great deal of strength in my legs, and I admit, I thought I was stronger than him. He's been letting me believe that for the last few weeks, but today we were doing 'press leg into bed' which is where you, the patient, lie flat on the bed and press your whole leg into the bed. Start at 5 times per leg, and add 5 reps every week until you're doing 15. Don't start at 15, you may hurt yourself. Anyway, the strength variation of this involved Ken holding my leg under my knee and keeping it up while I try to push it down. Normally, I get my leg to the bed with no trouble, but I think Ken was tired of letting me think I was stronger (I would have been too) and he just held my leg there. I was putting my entire weight and leg strength into getting my leg to the bed, and it wouldn't budge. I couldn't help myself: I started laughing. The whole thing was just too funny. I mean, how did I ever think I was stronger than him? Seriously, he's a physical therapist. He does this stuff all day. Plus, he has biceps.
Ken says my progress is 'excellent' and says he'll wait to hear the verdict from my appointment on Monday, but he will probably cut me loose soon. I am slowly developing his addiction to Arnold Palmer half lemonade half iced tea so that he'll have to keep visiting me. I'll write about this later when I get to talking about the weeks when I got home, but just so you can imagine him: Ken is about a half a foot taller than me and is probably in his early-mid 60s. He used to be in the navy, I think (he has an anchor tattoo on his arm, but it's old and the edges are blurred), and wears all white. His hair is white, and he has a crew cut. He hasn't mentioned anything recently, but he tells me that I have benefitted a lot from military treatment of burns, and based on his stories, I believe it. I'm also so incredibly glad that I got burned now and can take advantage of all of that knowledge, rather than 20, 30, 40 years ago. It's terrifying to hear of how burns used to be treated - from applying butter when you first burn yourself (DON'T - it actually fuels the burn. Cold water is the best initial treatment, NOT ice, as some people think.) to methods of cleaning (whirlpools, no morphine. blargh). Yikes, yikes yikes.
Okay - sunken treasure associated with the Taj Mahal just walked into the pawn shop (see Netflix - Pawn Stars)... more later!
Monday, August 1, 2011
Day 33 - Approximately 1 month later
Wow. If someone had told me while I was in the hospital that in a month I'd be home walking around mostly healed, I'm not sure I would have believed them. I think that at first, I thought I'd be in and out of the hospital and healed up in max 2 weeks. Then they said I'd be there for 2-4 weeks, and I started trying to walk... anyway, I can't honestly say that I'm amazed, but I'm so happy to be here, both at home and at this stage of healing. I only have one more bandage, which will probably be on for only another week or two!
In a way, that's kind of frustrating because the potential is there for me to go to school. Physically, superficially (I wanted to write surficially, but that isn't a word), I can tell myself that I'd be ready, but I'd be lying and wrong. Frankly, I don't have the stamina to make it through a regular day at Wellesley, let alone adding TAing and doing research and getting myself to and from Penn State. And, well, I'm not ready to be on my own so much of the time. I'm going to be talking to my advisor at PSU tomorrow to work out some stuff for me to do so I won't just be twiddling my thumbs, and knowing I'll be accomplishing something does a lot to make deferring a semester easier.
And... that's the update!
In a way, that's kind of frustrating because the potential is there for me to go to school. Physically, superficially (I wanted to write surficially, but that isn't a word), I can tell myself that I'd be ready, but I'd be lying and wrong. Frankly, I don't have the stamina to make it through a regular day at Wellesley, let alone adding TAing and doing research and getting myself to and from Penn State. And, well, I'm not ready to be on my own so much of the time. I'm going to be talking to my advisor at PSU tomorrow to work out some stuff for me to do so I won't just be twiddling my thumbs, and knowing I'll be accomplishing something does a lot to make deferring a semester easier.
And... that's the update!
Day 32 - Daddy Jim
I wanted to write down something I wish I had gotten up and said at my grandfather's memorial today. I had kind of planned on it, but everyone had such beautiful, eloquent things to share, and I only had a few sentences. Excuses, excuses.
My grandfather, in the last few weeks of his life, had a great deal of difficulty traveling: It was exhausting and uncomfortable for him. Regardless, when I got home from the hospital, he made the trip out to see me. It was within the first couple of days, which are pretty fuzzy for me, but I clearly recall sitting in the dining room. Daddy Jim was in the TV room, and wanted to see me. With the help of my dad and my uncle, he got up and walked over to the dining room. His walk was more of a hobble, and my walk was definitely a hobble - and when I saw him hobbling over to see me, I got up and hobbled over to meet him in the middle. He gave me a big hug, and told me that he was glad I was doing well. He just always made me feel so loved. Even sitting with him in his last days, while he was unable to speak and move (last stage of Parkinson's), I would tell him what I had been up to and how I was doing, and he would squeeze my hand to let me know that he could hear. I love and respect him so much, and even more having heard so many stories yesterday from before I was born. He was truly an incredible man. I really, really mean it.
My grandfather, in the last few weeks of his life, had a great deal of difficulty traveling: It was exhausting and uncomfortable for him. Regardless, when I got home from the hospital, he made the trip out to see me. It was within the first couple of days, which are pretty fuzzy for me, but I clearly recall sitting in the dining room. Daddy Jim was in the TV room, and wanted to see me. With the help of my dad and my uncle, he got up and walked over to the dining room. His walk was more of a hobble, and my walk was definitely a hobble - and when I saw him hobbling over to see me, I got up and hobbled over to meet him in the middle. He gave me a big hug, and told me that he was glad I was doing well. He just always made me feel so loved. Even sitting with him in his last days, while he was unable to speak and move (last stage of Parkinson's), I would tell him what I had been up to and how I was doing, and he would squeeze my hand to let me know that he could hear. I love and respect him so much, and even more having heard so many stories yesterday from before I was born. He was truly an incredible man. I really, really mean it.
Days 2-9 - the hospital
As I said at the end of my previous post, my time in the hospital is very amorphous. A combination of morphine, percocets, and who knows what else has made for some gaps in my memory. I do remember how absolutely incredibly awesome my nurses were. Marrin and Mona Lisa (not a nurse, but just as unbelievably awesome), and Helen were there during the day, and most nights Jay took care of me. The multi/non-religious chaplain Alex came by every few days, and even arranged for the gorgeous cheering-up collies to come stand outside my door (I wasn't allowed to pet them as 18% of my body was burned). Vic was my first visitor, Diana and Chris came to entertain me (though I may have ended up entertaining them.... this is one of the visits I don't really remember), and the incredible Stephanie Newton also came. I think. Oh! Dan's parents both came, and Dan was there often. My family was there every day, and my parents were incredible.
My medication caused constant half dreams; I'd close my eyes for just a second and people would be there, talking to me or giving me things and I'd stretch my arm out and wake myself up to find that no one was there. It got very frustrating. At one point I apparently had a dream about miniature whale-rabbit lesbians. Don't ask me, I don't know. Along the lines of the half dreams, I would apparently insert completely random statements into my conversations (obviously they made sense to me...). At one point I was talking to my cousin Aaron (I don't remember this) - we were having a nice long conversation, and all of a sudden I said "And then I had SPLINTERS in my PAWS!" My mom took the phone away from me after that, haha. I also had a very hard time maintaining focus on one thing. Dan and I played Battleship one night, and I had to constantly ask if I'd already gone and whose turn it was. I had huge blisters on my right hand that I was always asking my parents to take pictures of. I think it was the way the light looked through them that I was interested in... plus just how weird they looked.
The biggest thing I remember is that they told me that key to my recovery would be walking. Getting myself out of bed and walking up and down the hall. Mona accompanied me the first time, and came looking for me the second time when I overstretched myself and had to sit in a lounge at the end of the L that is the burn center. She was also the one who reassured me when I left puddles with every step I took with my right foot. Helen did my hair when my dad realized he didn't know how to execute a simple ponytail, and Marrin's constant good cheer helped me stay in good spirits. Jay's jokes and teasing made him one of my favorite nurses.
On the 3rd, we heard early fireworks late one night, and Jay turned my bed so I could see them out the window - I don't really remember them, but I remember someone coming in to take a blood sample and Jay saying to wait until the fireworks were over.
It wasn't all great though. I had a lot of nausea, and at one point was sitting in the shower having my dressings changed when a wave hit me. It happened to be that there was a group of students (and my doctor, though I didn't know it) in the bathroom too, looking at my burns when I called for a bucket. One of the students was faster than Helen (lucky for me!), and all of them got a thorough lesson on my excellent puking skills.
I basically had to relearn walking. As Jay said, we didn't have to reinvent the wheel, just relearn it. While my leg wounds were still open, that was extremely painful. My family often slowly walked down the hall with me as I hobbled along, encouraging me the whole way.
Oops, no good Nooreen - end on a high, not a low! The situation (and medication) brought out the teaser in me, and every opportunity I got ("Okay Nooreen, I'm heading out. Can I get you anything before I go?") I would ask, completely serious and deadpan, for a pony. Tee HEE. At one point Jay and Marrin said I was up for 'Patient of the Year', and I asked if the prize was a pony. ;)
This post is a work in progress... I'll add more as I remember things from the hospital.
My medication caused constant half dreams; I'd close my eyes for just a second and people would be there, talking to me or giving me things and I'd stretch my arm out and wake myself up to find that no one was there. It got very frustrating. At one point I apparently had a dream about miniature whale-rabbit lesbians. Don't ask me, I don't know. Along the lines of the half dreams, I would apparently insert completely random statements into my conversations (obviously they made sense to me...). At one point I was talking to my cousin Aaron (I don't remember this) - we were having a nice long conversation, and all of a sudden I said "And then I had SPLINTERS in my PAWS!" My mom took the phone away from me after that, haha. I also had a very hard time maintaining focus on one thing. Dan and I played Battleship one night, and I had to constantly ask if I'd already gone and whose turn it was. I had huge blisters on my right hand that I was always asking my parents to take pictures of. I think it was the way the light looked through them that I was interested in... plus just how weird they looked.
The biggest thing I remember is that they told me that key to my recovery would be walking. Getting myself out of bed and walking up and down the hall. Mona accompanied me the first time, and came looking for me the second time when I overstretched myself and had to sit in a lounge at the end of the L that is the burn center. She was also the one who reassured me when I left puddles with every step I took with my right foot. Helen did my hair when my dad realized he didn't know how to execute a simple ponytail, and Marrin's constant good cheer helped me stay in good spirits. Jay's jokes and teasing made him one of my favorite nurses.
On the 3rd, we heard early fireworks late one night, and Jay turned my bed so I could see them out the window - I don't really remember them, but I remember someone coming in to take a blood sample and Jay saying to wait until the fireworks were over.
It wasn't all great though. I had a lot of nausea, and at one point was sitting in the shower having my dressings changed when a wave hit me. It happened to be that there was a group of students (and my doctor, though I didn't know it) in the bathroom too, looking at my burns when I called for a bucket. One of the students was faster than Helen (lucky for me!), and all of them got a thorough lesson on my excellent puking skills.
I basically had to relearn walking. As Jay said, we didn't have to reinvent the wheel, just relearn it. While my leg wounds were still open, that was extremely painful. My family often slowly walked down the hall with me as I hobbled along, encouraging me the whole way.
Oops, no good Nooreen - end on a high, not a low! The situation (and medication) brought out the teaser in me, and every opportunity I got ("Okay Nooreen, I'm heading out. Can I get you anything before I go?") I would ask, completely serious and deadpan, for a pony. Tee HEE. At one point Jay and Marrin said I was up for 'Patient of the Year', and I asked if the prize was a pony. ;)
This post is a work in progress... I'll add more as I remember things from the hospital.
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