X is for – X-rays

I could find no published post for X and so I’m writing a new one.

“Don’t be pushed around by the fears in your mind.
Be led by the dreams in your heart.” 
― Roy T. Bennett, Author of Light in the Heart

Way back in 2016 after I had my misadventure, it seemed that I spent a lot of time at the regional hospital having x-rays MRIs, CTs, and other scans.

Of course, my daughter attended all these appointments with me. We were taken by ambulance from the rehabilitation centre at the beginning but after a couple of weeks, we went in my daughter‘s car.

On every occasion, and we saw different technicians each and every time, we were treated with the utmost respect and concern for my well-being.

Of course, initially, I was concerned because I had never had my brain x-rayed, or at least not while I was conscious. Obviously, they x-rayed it when I was first admitted to the hospital so that they could determine exactly what I had done, but at that time I wasn’t aware of what was going on. So I was a little nervous on the first visit, but my concerns were quickly allayed by the technicians and supporting staff. 

Much has been said about our health system and its faults, but during the time that I was incapacitated, I have to say that I gained only the greatest respect for all the people involved in my recovery.

As I have said we have the ACC here – the Accident Compensation Corporation and all accidents wherever they happen are covered by this. So we don’t need insurance to cover accidents.

And everything involved in my recovery was covered.

The therapists at the rehabilitation centre were great. The physio and occupational therapists seemed to be there during a normal working week. The physiotherapist was a delightful young woman who worked on me and while I was there, I saw her almost daily and when eventually I was able to walk to the gym unaided, she and the rest of the staff celebrated my achievement with me.

I saw the occupational therapist several times during my stay. These were interesting appointments during which she had me remember a list of words, look around the room and remember what I could see, tell her what I had seen on a recent walk round the grounds, and just generally make my mind work as it did before the accident. There was a speech therapist, but I didn’t see him until the day I was leaving. A young Malaysian who spoke with an American accent said he hadn’t seen me because I had been able to speak without any help. 

The two therapists continued to visit for a few weeks after I was allowed home.  The result of all this attention was great, but really,  I wouldn’t advise anyone else to check it out for themselves.          

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