Or, Diagnosis Part I
I wasn’t worried when the orderly tied my feet to the bottom of my hospital bed. It was September 2005 and I had just had major surgery. Someone had put the emergency buzzer next to my hand but I was soon yelling for the nurses (or trying to). I simply couldn’t command my hand to move the required inch to grab the buzzer. The solution was to put the buzzer in the palm of my hand with my fingers wrapped around it.
Now the sheets on the perfectly made bed were pushing my feet into an uncomfortable position and I couldn’t find the strength to move them. So the orderly righted them, then tied them down. I even laughed when hours later one of the surgeons tried to carry me out of bed to take a few steps and I’d forgotten about my feet being tied to the bed frame. Continue reading