A day in the life at rehab. . .

Tiring days at rehab . . . (sadness, that Amy Winehouse is such a train wreck, isn't it. . . so gifted, so love her music . . .) Bob gets no rest here at acute therapy—PT, OT, doctors, nurses, nutritionists, dietitians, a host of others stream in and out of his room, all day, every day—even Saturdays and Sundays—checking on his progress. During the day, that is. After 5 p.m., AcuteRehab turns into GhostTown. You could roll a bowling ball down the hallway and not hit a soul.

A daily routine goes something like this: After being wakened several times to reposition throughout the night, Bob is up at 7 a.m. to remove the compression wraps (above left) and

contracture boots (right) that have contained his legs all night (yes, he wears both). The compression wraps keep the blood flowing in his legs and help prevent clots by inflating and deflating, pulsing blood through his limbs, since he's horizontal much of the day. The contracture boots—aka the electric blue Ace Frehley's—keep Bob's feet at a 90 degree angle when he's in bed, to prevent shortening/tightening of the Achilles' tendons. All this together, think: KISS meets Flashdance . . .

. . . and into TED stockings (Thrombo Embolic Deterrent socks)—super-tight stockings that squeeze the bejeezus out of his legs, to increase blood flow and prevent clots. Bob's still experiencing post-surgery edema (swelling) in his right leg; an ultrasound was done on his right leg the other day, because of the increased swelling, to rule out a clot. Thankfully, none was found, hence, the socks. He's progressed immensely since the first few days, but still nowhere close to what I'd be comfortable with, in bringing him home. Some days, I'm amazed at the progress, others, I'm puzzled by the three steps backward . . .

So . . . 8:30 a.m. is usually when the fun begins, and doesn't end till around 4 p.m., alternating sessions between PT and OT, from 30, to 45, to 60 minutes, with a short rest between therapies . . . often, those rests are interrupted by doctors, meds, vitals . . .

Depending on who's torturing Bob at the time, the sessions include upper body work alternating with lower body, varying the exercises based on what he needs and what he's able to do. Might be some walking during one session, a recumbent bike another, maybe some steps to master another time. Some days, it's light hand-held weights and a set number of reps. . . seems like nearly every day, he returns from his sessions and mutters, "They're trying to kill me . . . " before melting into his bed for a good couple hours . . .

We have a care conference set for Tuesday, to discuss his progress thus far, to see what everyone thinks; "everyone" meaning all the above mentioned, in addition to Bob, me, and his parents, if they want to be part of the conference.

Will keep you posted . . .