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You'd Think I Was Too Big To Fall Between The Cracks
Saturday, 5 December 2015 14:05So the way meals work is that sometime after breakfast they come around with the menu sheets for the next day. I fill my own out, others have someone read them them the choices. Friday I filled out the Saturday menu and it was picked up with my lunch tray.
Saturday mornings run later than weekdays and I had PT at 9:30, which means getting dressed and lifted into wheelchair before than.
Breakfast finally comes, and I'm not seeing any milk or cereal. Under the cover was scrambled eggs and biscuits and gravy -- the generic first choice menu. The menu slip is blank. They lost my menu card. Now I have had biscuits and gravy, but no way am I trying the hospital version. And sitting in the tray carriers, the scrambled eggs become rubber.
Send it back and give my order. It comes a while later. With no utensils. The aide went back and grabbed them from my first tray. When they come around with Sunday's menu, I fill out another Saturday menu for lunch and dinner.
You can see this coming, can't you? Generic lunch tray. Almost an hour after my roommate ate. To my usual lunch, I had hoped to add the black beans and Apple crisp. I ordered the milk, beans and sandwich -- grabbed the sour cream packet and the Apple crisp. And the napkin wrapped utensils. Ate the crisp. When the sandwich came they said they were out of beans. No milk.
We can all imagine dinner with two lost menu cards.
In better news, they got me a better third wheelchair, this one more normal. Stacey, who was my main PT person in 2013, was happy to see me. We did one stand of 60 seconds to warm up. Second stand we tried to roll forward on my toes. Good. Tried to hop. Not Michael Jordan, didn't really clear the floor. No first step today. Next stand was to change out wheelchairs.
Stacey tried to get the amp sling attached, but it wasn't staying up. She called the maintenance guy, who was the same man who fixed my walker yesterday -- he couldn't reweld the broken weld, but he did run a bolt through it. He took the chair and fixed it when we got back upstairs. The wheelie bars had been sticking way out, like a drag racer. They turned out to have installed wrong. Better now.
Through all this activity, the stupid Kiwi brace kept falling off, because as built, it can't possibly stay on.*** Hanger never came Thursday or Friday to adjust. But... Stacey said that Kara called them yet again and Hanger decided I needed to come to their clinic. Soonest appointment... Thursday. And I see my surgeon on Friday. He's assuming I've had a correct brace since a couple of days after surgery. Which was Saturday 21 November. And it's fucking 5 December, two weeks later.
Monday I'll ask Kara if there's another vendor. I've had it.
Dr. Phil
*** It's simple Physics. You've got this heavy way oversized plastic trashcan, with one strap located above the knee. Legs narrow -- there is no way it can stay on. Idiots. I hope they don't get paid for this brace. It hurts and doesn't work.
Saturday mornings run later than weekdays and I had PT at 9:30, which means getting dressed and lifted into wheelchair before than.
Breakfast finally comes, and I'm not seeing any milk or cereal. Under the cover was scrambled eggs and biscuits and gravy -- the generic first choice menu. The menu slip is blank. They lost my menu card. Now I have had biscuits and gravy, but no way am I trying the hospital version. And sitting in the tray carriers, the scrambled eggs become rubber.
Send it back and give my order. It comes a while later. With no utensils. The aide went back and grabbed them from my first tray. When they come around with Sunday's menu, I fill out another Saturday menu for lunch and dinner.
You can see this coming, can't you? Generic lunch tray. Almost an hour after my roommate ate. To my usual lunch, I had hoped to add the black beans and Apple crisp. I ordered the milk, beans and sandwich -- grabbed the sour cream packet and the Apple crisp. And the napkin wrapped utensils. Ate the crisp. When the sandwich came they said they were out of beans. No milk.
We can all imagine dinner with two lost menu cards.
In better news, they got me a better third wheelchair, this one more normal. Stacey, who was my main PT person in 2013, was happy to see me. We did one stand of 60 seconds to warm up. Second stand we tried to roll forward on my toes. Good. Tried to hop. Not Michael Jordan, didn't really clear the floor. No first step today. Next stand was to change out wheelchairs.
Stacey tried to get the amp sling attached, but it wasn't staying up. She called the maintenance guy, who was the same man who fixed my walker yesterday -- he couldn't reweld the broken weld, but he did run a bolt through it. He took the chair and fixed it when we got back upstairs. The wheelie bars had been sticking way out, like a drag racer. They turned out to have installed wrong. Better now.
Through all this activity, the stupid Kiwi brace kept falling off, because as built, it can't possibly stay on.*** Hanger never came Thursday or Friday to adjust. But... Stacey said that Kara called them yet again and Hanger decided I needed to come to their clinic. Soonest appointment... Thursday. And I see my surgeon on Friday. He's assuming I've had a correct brace since a couple of days after surgery. Which was Saturday 21 November. And it's fucking 5 December, two weeks later.
Monday I'll ask Kara if there's another vendor. I've had it.
Dr. Phil
*** It's simple Physics. You've got this heavy way oversized plastic trashcan, with one strap located above the knee. Legs narrow -- there is no way it can stay on. Idiots. I hope they don't get paid for this brace. It hurts and doesn't work.
