Chapter 23: My Days (Weeks) at Palm Garden

I had a few stipulations for being released for rehabilitation.  First off, the facility needed to be approved by my insurance. By now you realize how difficult that task can be!  There I was in North Florida Regional hospital; denied release and denied admittance to the rehab facility of their choice.  They said if I left "on my own" I could be responsible for the length of the hospital stay plus any surgeries or procedural costs I had incurred.  It was like being held hostage by my own insurance company.

A condition or two also were in place before Palm Garden would accept me.  First, I needed to urinate;. Second condition, I needed to have a bowel movement.  Now, I'm good but I can't "perform on command" so to speak.  They tried everything to get me to poo, but alas all attempts failed.  I begged them to get me up and out of bed, as I knew that was all it would take.  The nurses all concurred among themselves that I  needed an enema.  They never spoke to a doctor, just chose themselves to "induce" me.  My God, talk about a broken floodgate! When the doctor finally found out, he was NOT happy. He said that treatment was for extreme cases, of which I didn't fit the criteria.

Soon after, an ambulance arrived to transport me around the corner to my rehab facility.  This was a full 2 days after I was ready to be released from the hospital.  The two boy "certified nurse assistants" were ill equipped to deal with the aftermath of an enema.  I never saw those two again so I'm thinking I helped them choose a new career.

The next day, a new CNA arrived. I was clearly marked as a dual assist but the girl said "I got this."  Well, guess what?  She didn't and down on the floor I went.  My arm was twisted up under my body, my leg was all whopper jawed.  An ambulance was called to transport me back to North Florida ER where I had numerous CT scans and x-rays.  Seeing as how nothing was broken (my wrist was only sprained) I was transported back to Palm Garden where I scared away the first CNA by saying "please don't drop me; I've already been dropped today."   She ran off to the nurse's station and sent another couple of CNA's down to assist with getting me to bed.

Besides the care at the rehab center being sub par, the food was God awful.  A "grilled cheese" consisted of a piece of an un-toasted, un-grilled slice of white bread with cheese sauce like you see at a ball park drizzled over the top.  I made numerous calls to Connie saying "Bring me something to eat"!  I was in there for two and a half weeks; I would still be there if they had been able to convince my doctor that I hadn't reached the point of diminishing return with my therapy.  The therapy here was good; it just wasn't frequent enough.  I spent at least 4 idle days in a row in bed with NO therapy as a result of the fourth of July holiday.  I tried to find an in-home therapy deal but my insurance blocked all seven of those potential agencies.  My only choice now is out-patient physical therapy, for which I received a list of pre-approved individuals.  I will probably fight through that list after I see my doctor and ask his opinion.

Luckily, I was allowed to check myself out of rehab, due to the doctor's statement about the "point of diminishing returns".  They begged me to stay, even offered me a full weekend of nothing but therapy.  It was too little too late as far as I was concerned.  So Connie packed me up and off we went.  I had a hell of a time getting into the car, and am just able within the last 2 weeks to hold my head up on my own.  Of course I fell down on the first day home, which thanks to ingenuity by Connie and Mom I was able to recover.  The doctor says I will probably spend a full 6 months in the wheelchair.

Next Up: Halo of Shame