At the rehab hospital, on Wednesday afternoons, some neuro patients had a field trip. We went on the subway and practiced riding up and down escalators.
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At the gym, I invented an exercise. Lying face down on a gym bench, I practice moving my arms in wide circles, like freestyle swimming.
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At my first rehab facility, they had a hot pool, and I was eager to try it. Until one therapist told me about all the incontinent patients who used the pool. Skip.
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The inpatient hospital food was such that my mother brought hummus sandwiches to my bedside for lunch every day.
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In the hospital they asked me what month it was. The correct answer was July. I said, "Jodie Foster."
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In the rehab hospital, I graduated to a daylong neuro program, sleeping at home but coming to therapy during the day. Patients in the program were sent to the hospital cafeteria for lunch.
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I didn't eat much at the hospital and became really skinny. This period is the closest I have ever been to supermodel gaunt.
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I am supposed to sway my right stroke hip like a supermodel struts the catwalk. Strut. Strut.
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In the rehab hospital, I met another stroke patient, an older gentleman. He didn't seem to have difficulties speaking or have movement problems.
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I also shared a room in the rehab hospital with a teenage girl who had tried to shoot herself dead in the head, and missed.
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Rehab hospitals see the unlucky and the lucky. I shared a room with a woman who went into her office on a weekend. Thieves broke in.
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