Introduction
On 8/26/2016, I wrote my first article,
on the subject. The article is "I'm
Still Alive – Why?"
That article was my seventy-first
article. This article, published on 3/29/2021, is my two hundredth
article. In the one hundred and twenty nine articles that I have
written, in between 8/26/2016 and 3/29/2021, I have commented on
various aspects of my ongoing “bionic” life. My 3/21/2021
article, by short title, "My
'Bionic' Excuse," included three X-rays. If you haven't seen
my “pretty pictures,” feel free to look – only if you are not
too squeamish.
In this 200th article, I
will summarize main details, perhaps adding a few new items along the
way. My purpose is not simply to “tell my 'bionic' story.” I
have a friend and brother in Christ, whom I have not met yet in
person. He is in the early stages of his ongoing recovery. His malady
is different than my multi-trauma (as they call it) has been. The
stages of ongoing recovery, however, are and will be similar. I want
to inspire my friend and brother in Christ. His recovery may be
quicker than mine, which is ongoing, for about five more years or so.
I hope that my readers, in general,
are inspired also. Never give up! It is step by step and day by day.
I will set the details in stages.
Afterward, I will write concluding remarks.
Stage One (3/29/2016 –
5/4/2016; 36 days in two hospitals)
The following is a segment from my yet
unfinished and unpublished book, “Light at the End of the Tunnel.”
I had written the segment, on 8/24/2016, very early in my still
ongoing recovery.
On 3/29/2016, Tuesday, life as I
had known it ended.
I was driving home from the office. An 18-year-old female -- who had
no auto insurance, no income, and no resources -- failed to yield to
my right of way. She turned left, directly into the left front
quarter panel of my truck. My ’95 Nissan truck died. I almost did.
After 36 days in two hospitals, I came home on 5/4/2016, to continue
the multiple weeks of recovery and physical therapy. My upper left
arm, right knee, and right foot have a combined 25 metal pins or
screws in them. My brain managed to slosh back into place fully. My
left eye recovered fully. My job was held open, for when I would be
able to return, from my “sabbatical.” Despite a still swollen
foot and ankle and stiff knee, I can walk, with a limp, even without
the crutch (for a short distance).
On 8/24/2016, I have written again. It was my attempt to
find a way to overcome the absolute boredom, of staying indoors, with
still no truck to drive – even if my damaged right foot would have
allowed.
I did not know that I was
alive when the surgeon repaired my shoulder and knee. My brain had
“sloshed back into place,” in time for me to speak with my
surgeon, before he repaired my right foot. That was on April
13th. He knew that I hiked. He said, “you will hike
again. It may not be until the fall.” From his words, I had
speculated my full and complete recovery later in 2016! I was wrong.
I am still recovering.
I was at the University of Tennessee
Medical Center from March 29th to April 19th –
21 days. Mrs. Appalachian Irishman, bless her heart, was with
me daily, even when my brain was still sloshing, and I didn't know
anything. Family, friends, and neighbors visited. I don't remember
some of the visits. I almost died twice, so my wife tells me, due to
the concussion. After about ten days, I started to become aware that
I was alive and that I was in a deep dark hole. I started to think
about how I could get out of that hole. I am on the upper edge of
that hole now. I'm still working on climbing out fully.
I remember some, limited, physical
therapy. My right leg to foot were immobilized completely. The
wheelchair and my wife got me around. I couldn't read or watch
television, unless I wore the patch over my left eye. Otherwise, I
was seeing double. The ice cream, on the outside deck, on which ever
floor we were, were good times! I was outside at least, with my wife
pushing me around in the wheelchair and buying the ice cream.
April 19th was
my transition, by ambulance, to Patricia Neal Rehabilitation Center.
It is part of Fort Sanders Regional Medical Center. I remember the
fifteen days there much better. Mrs. Appalachian Irishman continued
by my side, wheeling me around in the wheelchair, etc. It was “fun.”
(Do not eat a full bag of chocolate covered peanuts! You will pay for
it, on the portable commode seat, later! No worries! I could wipe my
back side, with my right hand, not my left. My wife had the “fun”
of flushing the mess, in the hospital room commode.)
I think my wife took the above
photograph of my right leg at Patricia Neal Rehabilitation Center, in
late April. Those hospital beds are NOT comfortable. I slept on my
bed, or tried to do so. Mrs. Appalachian Irishman slept, or tried to
do so, on the bed beside me. (I had a private room.) Near bedtime,
the nurse finally stopped asking me if I needed a pain pill. NO! Give
me two Tylenol pills. I'll sleep. I did, well enough. I don't know
what pain medicine they pumped in me, in the early days, when I was,
apparently, trying to not die. When I became aware of reality, I
refused all pain pills! I had wanted to know the feelings of the
damage, to know how to get out of the dark hole.
I had, daily, except Sundays, what I
call “brain” therapy, physical therapy, and occupational therapy,
several times a day. My wife had to wheelchair me, via the elevator,
to the location each time. Several good therapists were there. I
remember Heather, by first name. She was the best. Saturdays were a
lighter schedule. I was glad. I was always trying to endure. Oh, I
got a good bench seat shower every week! I managed to get to the
point that the nurse didn't need to see my private areas! I could do
it alone. Well, my wife helped some with my private areas, bless her
heart. She had seem them before.
“Brain” therapy was mental games,
to see how well my brain was doing. They were easy, but I fatigued
quickly, as my brain still recovered. I moved my left hand in circles
on a table. My left hand picked up toy items to stack (as a child
would). I don't know why they wanted me to play cornhole. I couldn't
toss with my dominate and busted up left arm. I had to use my right.
When I was allowed to start trying to bend my right knee, I tried to
turn the pedals on a stationary bicycle, with my right leg. I
couldn't do it. There were other aspects of the therapy. I remember
them all. My concussioned brain was working correctly.
As in Star Wars, “May the 4th
be with you!” On May 4th, my 15 days
at Patricia Neal Rehabilitation Center were done. I could manage to
transition from wheelchair to our 2008 Honda Civic passenger side,
with painful effort trying to move my right leg, from knee down,
forward enough to fit inside the car. (The seat was back as far as it
could go.) I was home. It felt good. I was inside. I could see Molly
(our 'ol puppy) through the windows. Family, friends, and neighbors
started to visit, at certain times.
Stage Two (48
Out-Patient Physical Therapy Sessions)
The wheelchair, portable commode,
shower bench, and other items came home also. The commode stayed near
me, in the living room. I could transition from wheelchair to couch
and from couch to portable commode, using my good left leg. My right
leg looked like a toothpick. My left shoulder looked pushed in and
down. I didn't have a left pectoral muscle.
(If you don't or can't use muscle, it
will be gone in two weeks. You have to rebuild it all. I did. My
right leg has the same power as my left leg. My shoulders are even.
My left pectoral has been back for years. My left side neck muscles
look the same as my right side neck muscles. It has taken time and
effort, day by day. When I was able to have my wife begin taking me
to our chiropractor, my bones kept alignment. We still see our
chiropractor, ever four weeks, for tune ups. My bones keep alignment.
My soft tissue still needs improvement.)
The best “fun” of being home,
before I could manage to shower, using the shower bench, with my
wife's help, in her bathroom, was when my wife gave me a weekly
sponge bath, in our kitchen. Warm water can become cold quickly! I
endured. My wife endured. Thanks, wife!
On 5/3/2016, the day before my
discharge to home, Mrs. Appalachian Irishman helped me arrange the
TEMPORARY wheelchair ramp, from driveway to front porch. On the day
that I came home, 5/4/2016, the ramp was installed. I never did
photograph the entire ramp. It was TEMPORARY.
Oh, here is a “pretty” picture of
my right leg. I'm on the couch. You can see various TEMPORARY devices
in the image. I took the photograph on 6/6/2016. The what I called
“100 lb.” knee brace was off. I still have it. I still have the
boot for my foot. They are souvenirs.
At some point after 5/4/2016, I had the
“joy” of my three sixteen-session rounds of out-patient physical
therapy. Mrs. Appalachian Irishman drove me to and from each one.
Let's see. Three times sixteen is forty-eight, right? I thought so.
The location was at the Orthopaedic
Center, near the University of Tennessee Medical Center. My wife
tried to miss the rough spots on the roads to and from the Center. My
right foot and knee still felt every one of them. My wife would have
to “trap” Molly in her basement condominium, temporarily, while
she got me to and from the house and car, using that ramp. (We had
several times of rainy weather “fun.”) After a while, she didn't
need to “trap” Molly temporarily! I could see Molly, briefly,
outside! I had managed, over time, to get from wheelchair to rolling
walker! Eventually, I could rolling walker down and up the ramp, with
my wife nearby.
I had taken my first “baby steps,”
three in all, on 6/16/2016. I've written about that before. You can
find details in my archived articles. Granny Wood was born on
6/16/1901.
The effort to get from wheelchair, to
rolling walker, to walking stick, then to no help was NOT fun. I can
endure pain. There were times that, almost cursing, I had to tell a
therapist, “STOP! I'M DONE.” I couldn't move my shoulder, knee,
or foot – which ever was the target of work at the time – any
farther, in which ever direction. After many attempts, I could,
finally, get the stationary bicycle to turn a full circle, with my
right leg!
I set my own home physical therapy
schedule. (I've written about it before.) They wanted my home routine
to be three times, for 30 minutes, a day. I knew that I could do
more. The trips to and from out-patient therapy were usually Monday,
Wednesday, and Friday. My schedule was five hours daily. Each hour
started at 9 AM, 11 AM, 1 PM, 3 PM, and 5 PM. I skipped the 1 PM and
3 PM schedule on my out-patient therapy days. I included all seven
days of the week, usually. Sometimes, I had to take a weekend or at
least a Sunday off. Sometimes, when I was “feeling my oats,” I
added a 7 PM one hour extra!
The out-patient therapy was NOT fun. I
endured. My wife knows the details as well as I do. By the way, NEVER
say, “suck it up, buttercup” to me! I heard it a couple of times
at therapy. I educated the ones who said that to me. They learned. I
endured. Remember, as I phrase it, “no gain; no pain!” If you
want to gain, take the pain.
Stage Three (“Normal”
Life Returning)
Papaw Ferrell passed away, on
11/21/1970. On 11/21/2016, I drove the car to and from the location,
to check out my soon-to-be “new, 'ol” truck, 2006 Nissan
Frontier. 11/24/2016 was Thanksgiving. (Mom was born on Thanksgiving,
11/24/1932.) The next day, I drove our car, with my wife with me. We
got my new, to me, truck! You've seen his photographs many times, if
you have been reading my website. He loves to have his picture taken.
12/7/2016, Pearl Harbor Day, was my
first trip, in my truck, to and from the homeplace. It had been a
while. The homeplace was, and still is, surviving well enough.
12/19/2016 was my first day of return
from my work “sabbatical.” The first two weeks were working
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday only. Afterward, I resumed the Monday
through Friday routine. I started back to work too soon. I knew it
later. I endured it. We needed my paychecks. My wife's pay could keep
us going, on the monthly costs plus some extra for retirement, maybe.
(I had budgeted our construction to permanent home mortgage that way,
in 2003, as I tried to think ahead.) My pay had to kick in, to help.
The only financial “help” that we
had was (a) the insurance pay for my '95 Nissan that had died and (b)
the months of paid leave that I had accumulated on my job. My health
insurance and our automobile insurance folks had asked me to let them
know, if I could ever get any money from the “turnip” that had
tried to kill me, on 3/29/2016. They had tried, with failure. I
didn't care. I was trying to work on surviving!
12/22/2016 was a winter day – either
way, if you count winter starting on 12/1 (as I do) or on 12/21. I
hiked House Mountain (loop trails at least). That was #137 and #1
“bionic.” I had missed my surgeon's prediction by ONE day ONLY.
As I have written, “a man has to start somewhere.”
On 1/28/2017, my new 'ol
truck and I hauled to the dump the TEMPORARY ramp! By MYSELF, as I
wanted to do, I ripped apart and broke up that ramp! It took more
than one day. 1/28/2017 was the final day.
The above photograph is the final load
that my truck and I hauled off. That was a psychological victory!
12/3/2017 was my House Mountain hike
#141 (#5 “Bionic”). I happened to meet my friend, Mr. Antonov. We
had hiked together several times, and I had met him on the trails
many times before. (My hiking log has the details, for family, who
may access my log. I might publish my log, but not today.) This was
our first time to meet, since I acquired my “bionics.” We talked.
I told him about my “fun,” so far. He examined me on the ridge
line. I remember the exact location. He has a doctorate in nuclear
physics. He has a self-educated doctorate in many other fields,
including medical. After he listened to me, asked questions, and
examined me, he stated, “It will take you ten years, before you
do not notice much, if any, difference.” That was his way of
telling me that my ten-year recovery (well, I hope ten years only)
was underway well.
Mr. Antonov was right. Various medical
folks have speculated many things. I was told that I would never
serve a tennis ball over my head again. I have been able to do that a
long time now. I continue, day by day, slowly but steadily. I have
had to go backward, temporarily, to go forward more times than I can
count.
Stage Four (Life, “Such
As It Is,” Continues)
If you read my articles from
8/29/2016 to today (3/29/2021), you will notice that life, “such as
it is,” continues. I'm still standing here. I ain't breathing hard!
The soft tissue (i.e.,
muscle, ligaments, etc.) are still my work in progress. Each “bionic”
joint still feels the differences. I do not feel pain – unless I've
reached the point of “pain” is my “new normal.” No, it's not
pain. It's tightness only now. Each step feels different, for my
right foot. I have taken some steps where both steps felt the same. I
like those moments!
Today marks the half way
point, in my ten-year recovery. I hope Mr. Antonov was right. I
think that he was. I should know. I am inside my body. The
step-by-step, day-by-day process continues.
I do not concern myself with
the mundane details of my temporal life. I write on “polytics,”
etc., at times. It's temporal stuff. I take temporal life in the
everlasting perspective. My sarcastic humor helps.
Each morning, I still do
various stretches, before getting out of bed. I have been taking hot
to cold showers for so long that I don't remember when I started. I
have taken a year of deep tissue massage therapy. I have tried all
the various creams and ointments. I have inquired about other types
of therapy and found no interest. I even tried the “marijuana”
sublingual liquid. All it did was give me the munches! That didn't
last long. I KNOW what I have ENDURED. There are other details. My
wife knows them.
Hey! I need to get House
Mountain hike #178 done! It will be a future hike. Let's hike! I DO
NOT BACK DOWN. I ENDURE. I'M THAT STUBBORN, as long as I have life in
this body.
Conclusion
On 11/3/2016, I started
writing “Punctuated Providence.” It will be an addendum to my yet
unpublished, “Light at the End of the Tunnel” book. One segment
reads:
God, however, will allow disease, sorrow, calamity, injury, and death
to occur in our lives – whenever, at the most inappropriate times.
My years after our return from Russia demonstrate that. My current
situation demonstrates that. In providence, God may protect us from
the above, or he may allow it to come, and to come in waves. We want
to know why he acts in providence at times and why he does not at
times. He does not tell us. He may tell us in heaven. We may “cuss
and fuss.” We may loose the zeal of what once was a strong faith.
We may give up. I have done these.
The bottom line is that I am still saved by God’s grace through my
faith. My faith, punctured by pain, is not what it once was. God is
not as close as he once was. Why has he allowed so much tragedy,
since we came back from Russia? He only knows. I do not. He will not
tell me why. I just trust that he has his reasons. Whatever. Blah,
blah, blah . . . .
This
3/29/2021 article is relatively trivial, folks! When I publish my
book, my “bionic” life will be a side note only. My “Light at
the End of the Tunnel” book goes back to events that started on
12/28/1999. It involves my godly mother. Since then, my “five
scars” are healing. They have been: emotional, relational,
spiritual, theological, and occupational.
My
3/29/2016 physical damage was trivial. My emotional damage is
nominal. My relational damage is relative (no pun
intended). My spiritual and theological statuses have improved. My
occupational life endures, until I can retire.
I am ready to go HOME, to my
everlasting life. I did not take the journey HOME, on 3/29/2016. I
will take it eventually. I am READY to go HOME!
Are you ready? If not, you
are welcome to comment or to e-mail me. My e-mail is in my website
heading. Otherwise, don't concern yourself with the temporal
too much (i.e., work, “polytics,” economics, etc.) Work on the
family and friends temporal items.
I need to get this article
posted. I may have a follow up article in a few days, with more
photographs. Y'all keep turnin' right and goin' straight out there!
E-mail me, if you would like to start a conversation. I'm standing
by. (No, I gave up that wheelchair long ago!)
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