It was a year ago that Brady was transferred from the neuro ward at RUH to the rehab ward at City Hospital. That first stretch might’ve been the hardest part of this whole thing, honestly. I mean, there were a couple of other things, but this easily made the list.
That neuro ward was deeply difficult. Not to the fault of anyone, but that ward was HARD. Brady was in a room with three other patients. In the eight days he stayed in that ward, he had fifteen different roommates. Watching everyone else come and go while Brady stayed, flat on his back, in the worst shape of everyone, was really really difficult.
Then, one day, two men from City Hospital rehab came up to Brady’s bed, and talked about moving him over into their care. They said they normally wouldn’t even consider taking someone who still didn’t have final pathology back, but that his surgeon was really pushing for Brady to enter their program as soon as possible. One of the men from City ran a few basic strength tests on Brady’s legs. He had some, but not a lot. I remember feeling afraid when they just moved his legs around the way they did. They weren’t rough or rude, but they were motivated and confident. They told him they would take him, and that a bed was opening up the next day. It was all very fast.
Transfer day I don’t even care to relive. It was absolutely horrible. Nothing was scheduled, or organized, and with the ward being SO busy, there was simply no way to get through on the phone. Not to the fault of anyone, don’t get me wrong. Those nurses were RUNNING. All. Day. Long. But I could just never ever know. I barely made it to the hospital and Brady was already almost in the transfer bus. I caught him for a hug and a kiss, and then I bawled. That was all I saw of him that day.
I remember the struggle within. I was SO happy he was moving to a better ward. So was he! We KNEW quality of life would improve. Yet, it was only days before that we had learned the severity of Brady’s spinal cord injury, and we were both still processing the idea of him not coming home. He was just shipped off to another hospital, just as I was becoming familiar enough with RUH that I didn’t feel afraid to go visit him each day. He didn’t even have a winter jacket with him, in the dead of winter. He was just shuttled out to a van in a hoodie and paper pants.
This switch was HARD.
Yet, I don’t have to tell you how much better rehab was than neuro. He had a beautiful big room to himself, with a big window overlooking the river and Kinsmen Park. In neuro, while he could feel the urge to pee, they opted to keep him on a catheter, just for ease. As soon as he got to rehab, they got rid of all of that and he could be more independent. Hear me – I have NO bad feelings about the people who worked on the neuro ward. They are stretched thin there. Not to mention, ALL the private rooms in the neuro ward were taken by active covid patients. So it was a stressful time in a stressful place. Rehab was a breath of fresh air. Everyone there was working towards something better. There was no shortage of encouragement and warmth from the staff and most of the other patients. In my opinion, the people working on the City Hospital 7th floor are some of the best there are.
To look back at us now, we were SO in the dark about SO many things. It was a frightfully difficult time that I wouldn’t care to relive. Yet, if we ever have to do it again, we know more now and I think it could be better.
I anticipate finding out what God has planned for all the knowledge and experience we have now.