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Post-op day 26.
I took a shower today. It was my third since getting out of the hospital, so it wasn't as full-out thrilling as the first, but clean hair never gets old.
I spent much of the first shower scrubbing the sticky residue of medical tape off my skin. I must have also gotten rid of the strange hospital smell, because the cat started coming around for belly rubs and shared nap time after that.
How do you shower with a broken pelvis? Carefully. My father sent a shower chair with a back and a hand-held shower gizmo that attached behind our shower head and works with the flip of a switch (thank you!). I get into the shower by backing the walker up to the tub, sitting down on the chair, and moving both legs over the side together. I can't get out of the shower by myself yet, though. I can get my legs back out but I can't reach the floor, so Seatmate hauls me up like an oversized child, hands under my arms.
My last night in the hospital, my surgeon came by and insisted I have a shower. Not a sponge bath, he told the nurses. He's bossy like that (it's awesome). Seatmate was there, so he grabbed my shampoo and came with me. The aide wheeled me down to a shower room and left us alone, which may not have been the brightest decision (a broken pelvis, a room full of wet tile, what could happen?) but was appreciated anyway.
The shower chair was a shallow bench (ten inches deep; Seatmate went back and measured) with a backrest that forced me to perch on the edge of my injured butt and use both legs to stay upright. I can understand this design for hygiene purposes, but in an orthopedic unit, it was like a passive-aggressive joke. By the time I was done, both hips were singing off-key and I was exhausted. Back in bed, my pain level tripled. It was my worst night in the hospital. But I was clean.
Like everything else, showering will get easier until it's no longer worthy of mention. But right now, it feels pretty sweet.
I took a shower today. It was my third since getting out of the hospital, so it wasn't as full-out thrilling as the first, but clean hair never gets old.
I spent much of the first shower scrubbing the sticky residue of medical tape off my skin. I must have also gotten rid of the strange hospital smell, because the cat started coming around for belly rubs and shared nap time after that.
How do you shower with a broken pelvis? Carefully. My father sent a shower chair with a back and a hand-held shower gizmo that attached behind our shower head and works with the flip of a switch (thank you!). I get into the shower by backing the walker up to the tub, sitting down on the chair, and moving both legs over the side together. I can't get out of the shower by myself yet, though. I can get my legs back out but I can't reach the floor, so Seatmate hauls me up like an oversized child, hands under my arms.
My last night in the hospital, my surgeon came by and insisted I have a shower. Not a sponge bath, he told the nurses. He's bossy like that (it's awesome). Seatmate was there, so he grabbed my shampoo and came with me. The aide wheeled me down to a shower room and left us alone, which may not have been the brightest decision (a broken pelvis, a room full of wet tile, what could happen?) but was appreciated anyway.
The shower chair was a shallow bench (ten inches deep; Seatmate went back and measured) with a backrest that forced me to perch on the edge of my injured butt and use both legs to stay upright. I can understand this design for hygiene purposes, but in an orthopedic unit, it was like a passive-aggressive joke. By the time I was done, both hips were singing off-key and I was exhausted. Back in bed, my pain level tripled. It was my worst night in the hospital. But I was clean.
Like everything else, showering will get easier until it's no longer worthy of mention. But right now, it feels pretty sweet.
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