no cards, flowers, emails or calls. A virtual get-well card is still on Facebook; you’re more than welcome to add your thoughts there.
Warm regards,
Margaret Kelly
Chief Executive Officer
RE/MAX World Headquarters
LORIEL FIGIEL
I was one of Dave’s day nurses at Craig Hospital. By the time he got to us in March, he’d had quite a long journey.
Not long after he got settled in, Dave began asking all of the right questions.
“What the hell’s been going on for the past two months? Where am I? What happened?” I called that D-day because that was the day the doctor, all of his therapists and the techs were together with Dave’s family in his room for the first time, telling him the story of where he’d been before, where he was at now, and what we were looking forward to doing, with the hope that he’d retain at least some of what we were saying. Dave was still very sick at this point, so we couldn’t start the intake process a patient at Craig usually undergoes—a process that involves us, first and foremost, getting the patient out of bed and moving. Up until D-day, we had been speaking to Dave, but he wasn’t with it enough to keep up with what we were saying. On this particular day, however, Dave awoke and for the first time since he arrived at Craig, was cognitively aware of what was going on around him.
When we told him about the thirty-five days of bed rest, I was worried that he might become confused and maybe try to get out of bed, bend his legs or do something that would jeopardize his recovery from the flap surgery. As it turned out, even in his most confused, upset, terrified moments, he was still the nicest patient I’ve ever taken care of. Granted, I worked with Dave in the daytime, and the nights were when his terror frequently set in. He tried to break free a couple of times, but someone would always talk him off the ledge and help him to understand the damage he could do if he didn’t calm down.
Thirty-five days of bed rest doesn’t do anybody any good mentally or emotionally. A lot of our patients struggle with it. We try to give them something more to do than stare at the ceiling. There’s not a lot of therapy that can happen during that time, so the days have a tendency to run together. Sometimes the day and evening schedule gets flipped, so a patient might sleep all day and then be awake at night. Dave wanted to be on a regular and regimented schedule—one that felt familiar to him. Morning would come and he’d be ready to go for the day. Even though he was flat on his back, he’d always greet me with a hearty hello and the same questions:
“What’s my schedule today? What are we doing?” He looked forward to the therapy session or OT work he did on his arms like he was closing a large business transaction every single day. Dave came into this period with the best attitude, which made a world of difference in his results.
JOHN
I had the idea to put a page-a-day countdown calendar on the wall of Dad’s room as a way of ticking down the time he had left in his thirty-five days of bed rest. We started with 35 and counted down. I thought it would help him pass the time and would serve as a reminder of what day he was on. I also rented every bad Western and Adventure movie I could find at Blockbuster. Dad seemed to enjoy “Man on a Ledge” and “Monte Walsh,” a film starring Tom Selleck. I even got him into watching the Colorado Rockies games with me, but they were losing every night, so it got downright depressing for both of us. Because Dad has never been a big television watcher, we tried getting a special stand for his iPad so he could read while lying down, but that didn’t work either. What really got Dad through this period were his friends and family visiting all the time. When we realized this was giving Dad the support he needed to get through the long stretch of bed rest, we opened the doors to everyone who wanted to come for a visit.
Admittedly, those
Warm regards,
Margaret Kelly
Chief Executive Officer
RE/MAX World Headquarters
LORIEL FIGIEL
I was one of Dave’s day nurses at Craig Hospital. By the time he got to us in March, he’d had quite a long journey.
Not long after he got settled in, Dave began asking all of the right questions.
“What the hell’s been going on for the past two months? Where am I? What happened?” I called that D-day because that was the day the doctor, all of his therapists and the techs were together with Dave’s family in his room for the first time, telling him the story of where he’d been before, where he was at now, and what we were looking forward to doing, with the hope that he’d retain at least some of what we were saying. Dave was still very sick at this point, so we couldn’t start the intake process a patient at Craig usually undergoes—a process that involves us, first and foremost, getting the patient out of bed and moving. Up until D-day, we had been speaking to Dave, but he wasn’t with it enough to keep up with what we were saying. On this particular day, however, Dave awoke and for the first time since he arrived at Craig, was cognitively aware of what was going on around him.
When we told him about the thirty-five days of bed rest, I was worried that he might become confused and maybe try to get out of bed, bend his legs or do something that would jeopardize his recovery from the flap surgery. As it turned out, even in his most confused, upset, terrified moments, he was still the nicest patient I’ve ever taken care of. Granted, I worked with Dave in the daytime, and the nights were when his terror frequently set in. He tried to break free a couple of times, but someone would always talk him off the ledge and help him to understand the damage he could do if he didn’t calm down.
Thirty-five days of bed rest doesn’t do anybody any good mentally or emotionally. A lot of our patients struggle with it. We try to give them something more to do than stare at the ceiling. There’s not a lot of therapy that can happen during that time, so the days have a tendency to run together. Sometimes the day and evening schedule gets flipped, so a patient might sleep all day and then be awake at night. Dave wanted to be on a regular and regimented schedule—one that felt familiar to him. Morning would come and he’d be ready to go for the day. Even though he was flat on his back, he’d always greet me with a hearty hello and the same questions:
“What’s my schedule today? What are we doing?” He looked forward to the therapy session or OT work he did on his arms like he was closing a large business transaction every single day. Dave came into this period with the best attitude, which made a world of difference in his results.
JOHN
I had the idea to put a page-a-day countdown calendar on the wall of Dad’s room as a way of ticking down the time he had left in his thirty-five days of bed rest. We started with 35 and counted down. I thought it would help him pass the time and would serve as a reminder of what day he was on. I also rented every bad Western and Adventure movie I could find at Blockbuster. Dad seemed to enjoy “Man on a Ledge” and “Monte Walsh,” a film starring Tom Selleck. I even got him into watching the Colorado Rockies games with me, but they were losing every night, so it got downright depressing for both of us. Because Dad has never been a big television watcher, we tried getting a special stand for his iPad so he could read while lying down, but that didn’t work either. What really got Dad through this period were his friends and family visiting all the time. When we realized this was giving Dad the support he needed to get through the long stretch of bed rest, we opened the doors to everyone who wanted to come for a visit.
Admittedly, those
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