hospital #2
2 minute read
from the stroke unit to rehab - kind of
As soon as John was able to work regularly with the range of therapists at the hospital - occupational, physical and speech - there was a definite sense of hope and relief and freaking-out-ness on my part because it suddenly occurred to me, to all of us, that he wasn't going to be able to stay in this safe bubble much longer. I had many hushed hallway conversations with the neurologist, his primary doc and every specialist I could corner - even Sal the giant nurse, to find out from them what would or could be next. It was clear that John still needed round-the-clock medical care - he wasn't able to function on his own, tell time accurately, remember events from the day prior...but according to his care team on the stroke unit he was a success story and on Thursday, 7 days after having arrived with barely a pulse, John was likely going to be discharged on Monday.
It may have been Friday when the social worker re-appeared, eager to help and provide more recommendations. In our blurry state of consciousness we listened to her options and it sounded as if the best possible one was for John to transfer to the University of Washington Hospital's inpatient 'acute-care rehab' unit. I heard "rehab" and was immediately encouraged. I clarified that he'd be getting "rehab" therapy, as in mental-health, addiction therapy and was told that he would have a team custom-constructed around his specific needs. This sounded like an amazingly perfect situation and we started working on the checklist of things he'd have to accomplish in order to be admitted to this very special, and hard to get into, program. This included putting on his own socks, walking unassisted twice around the 5th floor unit, ordering and eating a meal on his own and various other tasks that would never register in a normal adult's sphere of accomplishments.
Over those few days we tried explaining to John what was coming next but that was a little bit like talking to a distracted 2 year old, we had no idea if he was processing what we were telling him. And if he did, the next time he woke up we had to start all over again with why he was even in the hospital so we decided to just proceed and hope for the best. All I knew was he was still going to be safe in a controlled and unlisted environment for a while longer, which was critical. His "friends" still didn't have access to him and our goal was to keep it that way as long as possible. We camped out in his corner view room for the weekend and tried to mentally prepare for Monday, not having the slightest clue of what that meant or what was coming. The focus was on that transfer checklist - because if he didn't accomplish those things we had only two choices; transfer him to an adult-living/nursing home or bring him home to my house. Neither of those seemed remotely logical or feasible so we buckled down and made it through the weekend.