Rehab

Finally, we settled on the one rehab, and I got to go on another wonderful ambulance ride. I spent three and a half weeks trying to get anything to move and trying to speak well enough that people could mostly understand me. They finally managed help me get all but my left arm and my core to move then my insurance said my time there was up. Due to a strange bladder infection, the rehab kept me for a few more days, so I could be on an i.v.—my second pick line, which hurt forever and apparently was blocked by a clot. They drew my blood everyday because they were trying to stabalize the Coumadin. I left with six pounds of hand strength, but I am still so greatful to those nurses and therapists because without them, I’d still be in bed. Plus, they were the nicest group of people I’d dealt with, by far—they were always wonderful about my fears and terror of falling. I finally went home in a wheelchair friendly van.