BOSTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL-REHAB

It is difficult to say, but Bob's stay at King Unit in Manchester, N.H. was not an entirely unpleasant experience. The food was good, the Staff, nurses, and Doctors were wonderful. Under the circumstances, I don’t think either of us could have asked for better.
Bob, now completely stabilized and able to "play catch" on the tilt-table for long periods of time, was now ready to go to rehab. There were several places to choose from, but Boston seemed the ideal location for the lengthy stay and we .
were both very familiar with the city.
No one explained that one rehab center was better than another and doing research at that time was out of the question. Computers were the size of small cities and unheard of in the home. Silly us, we took the Doctor's word for it that Boston University rehab facility was one of the best and he would learn to take care of himself and gain most (if not all) of his independence back.
Everyone was almost weepy at the thought of Bob leaving and "moving on". I suspect they were going to miss the donuts Bob's dad brought every day and the almost daily "chuckles" that arose from his room.
But the day had to come. Bob was packed into an ambulance and "shipped off to Boston. He was anticipating (or trying to) what was to come. Hard to do when it is completely foreign territory.
No one explained that Boston University Rehab was smack-dab in the middle of the Columbia Street projects (also known as a "not so nice area). There was a remnant of a park across the street with a bunch of urchins yelling at each other in language that would make a sailor sweat!
Never mind-he was there to work!
Shortly after he arrived and got settled in, a kindly nurse explained that if he wanted a buy it had better be a small, cheap one as they were stolen on a regular basis and if he wanted a radio, he had better find a good place to hide it. So much for confidence in the system!
He was placed in a ward with five or six others. He was the only paraplegic, all the others were quads of various stages ranging from partial paralysis to "talking head". It was a bit depressing, especially after leaving King Unit.
The whole place kinda reminded one of the old orphanage movies. Dark, dingy and decorated by Martha Stewart's evil twin!
No matter, He was there to work.......Damn-it we had to remember that. Chances were, he would be there for upwards of six months-we HAD to get used to it.
I was introduced as the "primary care person" no name, just "her". We were confident that we could handle ANYTHING..........
Lord knows, we tried................

NOT QUITE YOUR FAVORITE TRANSPORTATION

It took a day or 2 to get over the "Shower thing". In the middle of the ordeal, amidst gales of laughter, Bob cut a "Slammer" of a fart. Not only a loud ear shattering fart, it also could peel the paint off the walls. Poor Bob was so embarrassed, was doubled over (not knowing whether to laugh aloud or puke) and Ruthie (the suppository queen) was jumping up and down, barely able to contain herself. I have yet to figure out the true function of holding your nose and jumping up and down. It must be a ritual learned in nursing school-they were all doing it!
Ruthie, after performing this ritual, suddenly took off and to get the doctor. Bob and I thought that she had something against him and wanted the doctor to come before the "Haze" left the hall. Trust me, it took awhile to dissipate.
I'll be damned, the Doctor was just as excited as the nurses. He whipped out the old cold stethoscope and started listening to Bob's stomach. I'm thinking,” you don't want your face that close to that end, number 1 and number 2, his heart is on the other end anyway". The doctor persisted.
He finally stood up and with a huge grin on his face, he explained that farts and
pooh are a good thing! . ) .. . . .
He was explaining all this and I was thinking he IS trying to make a potential biological weapon sound like a good thing. We all needed gas masks!
Evidently, there had been a possibility that Bob's natural functions were affected and farting and poohing might not have worked at all and a colostomy would have been required or else the ensuing "explosion" (of Bob) could have been fatal for hundreds, trust me. Knowing that his "relief valves" worked, was small comfort.
This little revelation started the process of achieving certain goals require before a "para" can be discharged to the custody of a "Rehab" center. The "tilt-table torture" began again-IN ERNEST!
Two or three times a day, the nurses would strap Bob (who by now had earned at least a "Johnnie") to the tilt-table, wheel him into the hall and stand him up.
I had been deemed" primary care person" so they handed me a tennis ball and just said "play catch 'til he faints, then call us".
At first, it was a bit frightening. Bob would be all happy, catching the ball and tossing it back, watching me chase it down the hall....then his face would turn a sickly white and he slide down in the restraints. This would occur in 5 minutes or less. After a couple of days, Bob could "stand up" indefinitely. I could wheel him around in the upright position (until the nurses caught us touring).
It was then that we hatched the plans......
We decided that we could earn some extra money by strapping Bob to the tilt table, wheeling him out the front door and down the driveway to a nearby bank. It
would be easy enough to steal jar of pencils (we had to pass an administrator's office), Bob would just pretend to faint. While The admin folks were busy with Bob, I would steal the pencils and hide them under my shirt.
Bob would then miraculously be well and I would scramble him out the front door to the bank.
Now this bank was always busy and the window constantly had a line of cars.
Each car had to stop before the window, right? Well we were going to park Bob there, with the stolen pencils and have him look really pathetic while selling each pencil for .50 cents.
Don't laugh, we though about robbing 7-elevens but he was to damn slow on the getaways.
Bob's birthday was approaching as was his discharge. WE WERE GETTING BORED! We knew he was getting better. Still no feeling in his legs, but at least no pain.
His going away party (and birthday) were celebrated in the Teflon tuxedo and johnny, strapped to a gurney. Aunt Birdie had arranged for Bob to be transported to the cafeteria for lunch and a birthday cake. Unfortunately, the gurney didn't fit on the elevator that went to the cafeteria, SOOOOOO we used the emergency elevator, which only went as far as the lobby. .
Do not EVER underestimate the ingenuity of a Conway (Birdie or myself).
The cafeteria was on the "garden-level. (that had an outside area with plenty of shade trees and lovely gardens. The only other access was by driveway, a long winding, downhill, driveway. Gurneys do not have power steering, nor do they have power breaks.....It was not pretty.
Birdie got in the rear and I (Stupid me) got in front. We started out nicely enough, then gravity kicked in-. We thought we had her under control with back-pressure.
Then that thing called inertia...
While Bob was yelling “we were trying to make him a Quad” we were desperately trying to control the damn thing. Birdie was yelling to an unseen audience to "Get out of the way", Bob was yelling instructions (between vague expletives)1 was just trying to avoid being run over!
This was all bad. Then we spotted the end of the driveway. A flat spot, happiness, relief,-not so much.
If I recall, there was a wall, not a big wall, but a wall, none the less. My mind did the old "life flash before your eyes" thing. Bob and his gurney had not slowed down.
One deep breath and I braced myself and Aunt Birdie did the same. We finally -managed to get the damned thing slowed down-enough-to turn the gurney onto the patio.
Everyone had to admit-"It was a grand entrance!” . Our adventure into "Cripdom" had truly begun........

FUTURE MOM & DAD

Just to fill in a few blanks: Like "what ever happened to Bob's Mom and Dad?" while the juggling of the exes took place. I need to explain a bit about Bob's parents.
Both of them were in their 70's at the time. Rose a TRUE F.B.I. (first born Italian) , was so typically Jersey City Italian. Old school (at best) and a true Lady.
Rose never cursed, always cleaned (every thing, even the tables in a restaurant) and ALWAYS dressed impeccably. As I said before-her teeth and hearing aids did not fit properly. She was also a very doting parent. She absolutely adored Bob and always showed it. This whole mess truly upset her, but, she was also a very strong person and believe me there wasn't an item in the hospital or Bob's apartment that didn't gleam by the time the departed. I believed (when I first met them) that this cleaning thing was her coping mechanism. I found out later that it was just Rose. The best Christmas gift she ever got was a swiffer! (she "swiffed the paint off the walls in her kitchen).
Bob's Dad was a Kentucky Curmudgeon. He had a slight limp and always had that "Look" similar to Walter Brennon. Come to think of it, he also had the slight limp to round out the Brennon image! Just when you thought you had pissed him off, he would develop these wonderful "Irish wrinkles" around his beautiful blue eyes. There would be the slightest twinkle and you knew-all was well in the "Bob the Elder" world.
Bob, the elder, resigned himself to what was and dealt with it. He was a source of strength for both Rose and I. He kept Bob's mind off the "crip" thing, and had every nurse in the joint eating out of his hand. Did I mention that later on he was know in family circles as "The Great White". Trust me, if some dropped a donut out of an airplane in the middle of the desert, he could sniff it out. Most of the morning was spent questioning the nurses about decent restaurants for lunch. The afternoons were occupied by asking the patients and new shift nurses about the restaurants that were good for dinner.
Both of them occupied their days at the hospital (between restaurant reviews and finding them) with helping out the aides and visiting the other patients.
The only problem we had, was my car. I purchased it used in Maine. It was an unmarked cruiser, with a big engine and heavy duty suspension. Unfortunately,1 hadn't had the money to purchase new tires in quite awhile. I found that in the winter (especially in Maine winter) that the canvas stripe that ran down the center of the tire had pretty damn good traction. I never got stuck (had a lot of flats but, never stuck). I had also had an unfortunate meeting with a snowplow and there was a s I i g h t triangular hole accented with a lovely rust tone halo in the rear fender. She was a baby-shit green, yellow brown color, and if you went to fast with only one
window down, the headliner tended to blow up and cover your eyes. Other than that, she was a damn good car. She never gave me fits and went like a "strip-ped assed ape"!
Needless to say, Bob and Rose didn't see her assets....At all.
After Bob and Rose returned to Florida, Bob had me buy a new car My engagement ring was an Escort). He explained that he had received a lecture .
about allowing the girl he loved to drive around in a deathtrap. You know, the do nothing if you want her to go away, Buy her a safe car if you want us to accept the marriage!
Bless their hearts, they were truly wonderful and after we were married, they treated me like a daughter. The blessings keep mounting......
AH, back to 'Tales of the Crip". I believe it was about 3 weeks after Bob was injured, when Aunt Birdie announced that it was time for Bob to REALLY sit up. He had been mostly on his back and cranked to an upright position (other that the weebles wobble bouts periodically.) position. AND, if he was a good boy, they would give him a proper shower.
First the tilt- table. Basically described as an implement of torture equal to the equipment used during the inquisition. Four nurse showed up with the board on wheels, equipped with leather straps. I remember checking for wires and a battery .
They transferred Bob (in the brace ),strapped him in and tilted the board upright.
Bob was Standing! (sort of). Well the nurse parked him in the hall, and said, as they departed "Call us when he faints'! .Well this is cool.........
It took about 5 minutes for all of the blood to drain from Bob's face and his eyes to sorta roll into the back of his head. I yelled "He's gone!" and poor Rose damn near fainted. After apologizing to Rose for the poor choice of words, they got him back to bed: We were very careful after that when Rose was there.
The same afternoon, RUTHIE showed up. Every hospital has "The Nurse".
Ruthie was the resident curmudgeon, old school nurse who was always armed with a jar of suppositories. Her favorite line was "if what goes in doesn't come out On its own-I will do it by force!". We noticed that she ALWAYS gave bob the laxative just before the shift ended. Poor nurses on the next shift, AL WAYS got stuck with the ensuing "Explosion". Trust me it wasn't pretty and there was a lot of scheming going on behind Ruthie's back. I am sure it was for revenge....! am also sure, they achieved their goal. It was like living on the set of a comedy version of General Hospital-without commercials!
Ruthie and another nurse transferred Bob onto a gurney and explained they were taking him to the showers. I dutifully asked if I could help. They refused my offer, so I settled down with a magazine and tried to relax.
It was not very long before I heard shrieks of laughter from down the hall. "Oh what now!!!!" I thought and ran out of the room. The vision a short way down the hall was indescribable.
The showers were designed for wheelchairs and blessed, had two doors. I presume so (like a carwash) one good wheel in shower, and wheel out without having to maneuver too much. Unfortunately, a wheelchair is half the length of a gurney. Bob is 6'-01" tall-so is the gurney. Therefore, Bobs upper torso had to be washed first-then the other end got to be washed.
What was hanging out in the hall, in front of God and all the patients and other staff was, well, "Willy and the Boys". The shrieks of laughter were from Bob, Ruth and the other nurse, trying to fit a 6 foot gurney into a 3 foot space with the water running (after they discovered what the had left in the hall!).
At this point, I could rest my case for a totally insane life, but, trust me, it gets
worse............. ..

ADJUSTING TO "STABLE"

Poor Bob. The body brace started at his hips and went up to his armpits.
Basically a Teflon sandwich held together with the international and universal "attach all-Velcro.......Therefore it took an act of God (initially ) to sit him up. We used the bed control to sort of pry him half. It was at that time Bob and I adopted the jingle" weebles wobble, and they do fall down!" as our very own.
He could fold, but the "balance thing" was non-existent. "Man-over!" became a very common phrase also. Then Id have to call a nurse, or any poor schmuck that happened by the room to press on one side while I pushed on the other. For a few days, it was touch and go. No One warned him about the "you can't sit if you can't feel your butt" thing. (try it-if you are able-bodied-it is impossible to imagine not feeling your butt).
The whole "lets sit Bob up" game tended to last only moments until we'd have the entire wing in mass hysteria! No one knew whether to laugh or cry. Thank the Lord, most laughed. Neither one us could have taken to much more pity, it gets
Old.
Bearing in mind that Bob is still located in a TRAUMA unit, we tried to be serious., but, then again, if one gets too serious under these circumstances, one tends to. become a living plant pot Thus, visitors were not only welcome they were encouraged. I happened to be visiting my cousin Barbara (next room) at the same time Bob's ex wife (one of them) showed up. One of the nurses came in and told me that I would REALLY prefer to stay in Barbara's room for a bit. I asked "why". She told me Bob had whispered to her and ask to deliver the message. That's all it took. An Ex-eh? O K AY.
Barbara rang for the nurse, after dropping her glass of water on the floor. The nurse (ever so prompt on this floor) came right in, looked at the mess, and two very sheepish girls, and pleasantly (with a touch of sympathy) advised she would send a cleaning crew in immediately.
I (unfortunately) can't remember her name, but she was the sweetest thing. The cleaning gal whipped in there with her mops and promptly had the room sparkling.
As she was about to leave, Barbara ask her to come closer. She obeyed. We filled her in on Bob's visitor, "the EX".
This little gal knew exactly what was being asked of her. She turned giddy at the prospect. It was like she, had a cloak and dagger hidden in her cleaning cart for just such an occasion .' .-' Bless her. She went into Bob's room and pretended to clean, all the time making more little messes so she had to return with a different cleaning supply.
First she came back with a description. We sent her back for more..she came back with bits of the conversation.,:we begged for more...she went back and
returned with one final report, "Bob looked bored, pissed off and tired, so her closed his eyes and started snoring".
The cleaning girl started giggling and told us it worked....Marg had left, never to return. Spy mission accomplished!
I returned to Bob's room. He was awake. He knew exactly what Barb and I were doing, but he said that he didn't think Marg had caught on so he feigned sleep so she would leave. IT WORKED. Then he told me of the phone call while Marg was there. His other EX called to see if she could come visit.
Same day, His EX girlfriend, JJ called said she wanted to come. Of course Bob said sure it was alright. But her car was broken down, she needed a ride-you guessed it, I went to pick her up.
In my warped mind, I thought this would put to rest any thoughts I had of Bob still having feelings for any of his past "Loves". I was positive that I was mature enough, sensible enough, and a nice enough person, to be an adult, and pleasant all at the same time.
Blondes shouldn't think. IT HURTS> The conversation started out pleasantly enough, "car broke" "yeah" "Nice day" "Yeah" "Been in town long" "Nah" You get the idea. SHE SEEME~~ BIT PUT OUT!
She then began to talk of her wedding plans, how she and Bob had decided on this lovely church and her gown was over 5,000.00 and he was going to buy her a mink coat, and on, and on......
You know the little finger grippy thingys on the steering wheel? By the time we got to the hospital, the ones on my steering wheel were 2 inches deep and my finger prints had been permanently embedded.
I let Bob have her all to himself. Had I stayed, she'd be in the toilet tank with the beer!
I sat in Barbara's room. The women stayed in there for DAYS (actually a couple of hours). Our friendly "spy-maid" finally came in and advised us that she had departed (no-not that way (darn).
Back to "POOR BOB". J.J. had told him that she was prepared to stay as long as it took and that she could learn to be his primary care person, and on and on.....
Thought he was going to gag! If I recall, one of the guys from the airport took her home.
Bob said he tried to fake sleeping, she started to knit....He told her he was tired.
She kept talking.
I am not sure whether he ever told me how he finally got rid of her, but whatever it was-It worked!
Finally, some peace and quiet-just in time for "Cocktail hour".
There is admittedly something gross about pulling your drink out of a toilet
tank,but-ya gotta do-what ya gotta do.....right?(and the New Hampshire water is
icy cold-ALWAYS)............

CHAPTER 2 - MEET THE PARENTS,IT'S REAL

It has been a week. Rather uneventful, if you don't count my broken fingers,and IF you can call a "Trauma Ward" uneventful!
I am guessing that because the ward was new, they had not yet installed the television sets on the floor for the patients that were on the "rotisserie". Therefore, I laid on the floor, under the stryker frame so when Bob was "Bun's up" I could talk to him. As he was on a lot of pain medication,he would often drift off. I would do the same....On the floor, under the frame, so when he awoke there would be someone there.
I understand that medical personal are not trained in detailed observation of anything other than a high temperature or smallpox welts, but you would think that they would notice a 150 pound broad,asleep on the floor under an open frame with a naked body on it. That particular chapter in the book was omitted.
The nurses came in to rotate the "spit" and rolled the stryker frame to get a better grip. No one even yelled "FORE". She grabbed the crank and rolled the damn thing over my hand. Well, I yelled, but it wasn't "Fore". More like something from a Jack Nicholson movie(late night). Within five minutes my fingers were the size of Bob's butt!
The good news was, I was in a trauma unit, The bad news was, I hadn't been admitted,3 fingers counted as an incident and the poor nurse was more upset that I was. A little ice,a roll of tape and two aspirin. The attention to BOB resumed.
Because of the way Bob fell off the rock pile,into the pine needles, he had a lovely pattern of pine needles stuck under his skin,on his backside. It was a blessing that Bob had lost the feeling in this particular part of his body, and because I(for obvious reasons) gave up getting under the frame, I got a pair of tweezers and began removing the sprills. Bob and I would bet on how many I could pull out in and hour! Should have kept them. Could have made a pillow, just like Grandma used to pawn off on us. Please understand, One has to get VERY creative to pass the time in a hospital room. That was about to change.
Bob called his parents........
After the primary wailing and moaning,they decided to come to New Hampshire.
Bob called Braniff and arranged tickets for them and arranged for a friend,Walter, to pick them up and bring them to the hospital.
Walter has never to my knowledge been "rear-ended" . I firmly believe that to date, no has been able to get close enough to him on ANY road, to rear-end him.
Walter,a private pilot, treats the speedometer in his car like the airspeed indicator in his Bonanza! BUT! Bob maintains that he is a wonderful and "Safe" driver........Uh Uhl Blessedly, Bob had the surgery on his back the day before Bob(the Elder) and Rose arrived at the hospital. It had now been a week since the injury, I hadn't been home yet,My Mom and Dad were also in route to the hospital. Please bear in mind, I had never met Bob's Parents.......
Mother Rose-New Jersey Italian to the core! Not a hair out of place,dressed to the nines and trembling in her real leather heals. The poor dear, I thought it was
the fear of seeing Bob as a para. NOPE......lt was the ride with Walter! You guessed it, he made the 45 minute trip from Logan airport in about 34 minutes.
The more he bragged about" what good time" they made, the more Rosie quaked! Her teeth were rattling in her head and the hearing aid was whistling Dixie!(but her hair stayed firmly in place-It was amazing). I emt them at the door, introduced my self and started towards the elevator. Guess who's there? My Mom and Dad. I politely introduced them to Bob and Rose. You know how mothers can be, they hugged.......Bad mistake. Now both of their hearing aids were going off, teeth rattling, with a bit of foot stomping it could of been a tribal war dance at the Boston Pops. Bob(the elder), Dad , Walter and I suffered through the oscillating and teeth clicking for three floors! All four of us praying the elevator would stop between floors.....
Bob's quiet sedated existence in the King Unit was never to be the same.......
That very day, My cousin, Barbara was admitted to the King Unit for a knee replacement. She was right next door. She is not part of the normal , Mom, Dad and 2.5 kids family, She is part of an entire clan! And a wonderful clan it is. One can NEVER classify the Irish as a mopey bunch. Her visitors became Bob's visitor and visa versa.
To accommodate the influx of people, they would split up, then like cosmic choreography, they would pass each other in the hall and switch rooms.Bob and I both needed a drink!
Bob asked the doctor about having a beer. Doctor said he could have anything he wanted and wrote orders to that ~ffect. This place was "MAGIC". The very next meal, a bottle of "Bud" showed up on the tray. The real magic was the next morning when the "Bud" showed up on his breakfast tray!
It was against hospital policy to have a cooler in the room(Germs,you know).
SO we put all the excess beer in the toilet tank(to keep it cold),augmented with a few six-packs, we could now accommodate the visitors in style!
Once, Walter found out about the "Beer cooler", he passed the word to all of Bob's Braniff co-workers, who proceeded to show up with Jack Daniels for Bob, Johnny Walker Red for me,...... I was running out of places to hide stuff. The toilet tank only held a 12 pack, and Bob only had a small suitcase.....We managed.
It appeared that things were looking up. Bob seemed in very good spirits and Rose's teeth had stopped rattling and her hearing aid stopped imitating the Philharmonic. Then the Spinal chord repairman showed up.
Doctors do dampen the spirit. The results of all test,surgery, etc. were final. Bob was a paraplegic, and according to the doctors own words, Bob's arms were too short to be a paraplegic,therefore, his life was going to very difficult from now on.......1 guess it was like saying you're stupid cause your eyes are to far apart.
How are you supposed to react to that. "So what's new?".lt was the first time since the fall that we got to laugh.....
I'm not sure the doctor knew what exactly to do with us., So he left.
Bob was then fitted with his new Teflon body suit,finely carved and velcroed in a lovely off white to compliment his hospital pallor. The armor was finely tailored
Bob's figure,bearing in mind that every detail must be just so and every movement must be met with a cry of anguish. It was a high-tech version of the whale-boned -corf)ets of The queen Victoria, herself.