After a very VERY long stay away from my stomping grounds, I finally returned to Freeport in Kitchener. This time, I was a lot stronger, a lot more coherent, and a lot more full of piss and vinegar. I was the youngest patient by twenty to sixty years, which would be rather annoying except I no longer had the piercings and I speak well enough to the elderly.

The best thing about that facility was the court. It was large and comfortable. The air was pure (a nice reprise from Hamilton) and it was summer. This, of course, meant that I was outside MOST days. Even if it was just in the shade, I made sure to breathe air instead of metal.


I really have very little to report from my stay there. They really did not know how to treat someone my age which resulted in a few HILARIOUS encounters. I taught about six people on the floor better ways to use a wheelchair. That was kind of a neat experience. I have not done any teaching of anything in so long. That fact made me very nervous about my demeanour and my expressions. I THINK I DID OKAY. NO ONE DIED!

The food there (which was amazing, by the way) was consumed breakfast/lunch/dinner in a common dining area. The person across from me had an embolism (I think) and really could not understand why I had BOTH my legs but could not walk. The lady across from me and to the left was just so bloody adorable. She had a heart attack, but was recovering fine. She would regal me with tales about how her husband and her met in WW2 and they were together until his death about two years prior. Unfortunately, I lost her phone number the day I left rehab, so I have no way of getting a hold of her to see how she is doing. I really hope she is doing okay.


So I had this OT who was mostly really good at what she would say and do. MOSTLY. She, we assume, would think out loud. I did my own thinking whenever she was around. I cannot even post it because so much of it was inappropriate gestures that do not have the similar impact in text.

For Example: she wanted me to carry around a pad of paper and a pen because that would be better to have than my cellphone. You know: To carry and whatnot. IF YOU THINK ABOUT THAT. IT MAKES NO SENSE!

I am being too harsh on the poor woman. She did assist me in transfers without boards from one surface to another, which is huge. She also got me into the Low Vision Clinic. She assumed I was all but blind, yet I rolled on out of that place with glasses one step up from reading glasses.

I do not think I have stated how angry I have been a large portion of my stays. I had a fever April 19th to the 21st which could have spawned encephalitis again. It did not, but the risk was present. I could not do this again. Always tag these updates with “dream,” but that is only because “nightmare” does not do it justice. I am sorry to go all emo on this post. I just feel as though I should let people know that this has been hell. Every person who has a disability goes through hell. Every person who has something hindering their state of being is going through, you guessed it, hell. I am not trying to lump us all together, we all have our own tale to tell. I refuse to accept anyone saying that so and so is worse off because of blah blah FUCK YOU. It all sucks.

Anyway, enough of that. I went home permanently on August First. I will post what has been going on, kind of. There is a lot of political shit and some good news and some horrible news. The next update will be me destroying assumptions people have about what happened again. I do see. I do read. I do tend to ramble on and on. BYE

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