Ugh. Supposed to be cooler today than the almost 100 degrees of the last few- muggy- and made the first adventure into my back shower so special. I have been doing with washcloth baths since the operation- that and leaning my head under the front bathroom shower to shampoo and shaving on crutches over the sink. It finally got to be too much with the muggy crud, and the moment of truth had arrived.
I had purchased a shower-seat, once of those geriatric support items that prevents falls while sluicing down and getting a rich foamy life-affirming lather on the skin.
Since the original accident, I have had the uncomfortable nagging sensation that the bum leg would collapse and fold me into the tub in some impossible and painful contortion. So the shower was not a relaxing place to be- rather one of necessity coupled with fear and dread.
I actually was thinking ahead on this current situation. After my second visit to Bethesda, and detailed consultations with my senior associate Mac, I determined that a shower seat was in order. That, and one of those hand-held shower units that you screw into the existing nozzle and gives you the ability to direct the soothing warm water exactly where you want it.
Some them come with a variety of bells and whistles and intensity. I have women friends who swear by them, not precisely for the same reason I was interested, but I digress.
Anyway, the thing hanging me up was the fact that the Docs were quite stern about not getting the brace wet, which made a real test drive of the system un-nerving. I have been dreading the idea of getting trapped back there- should I not be able to get the brace back on and confront navigation unprotected.
Anyway, the humidity and sweat finally got even to me yesterday. Sticky. Uncomfortable. Loathsome.
No alternative. I peeled off down to the brace. I hobbled to the bathroom and got on the scale. I have actually appeared to have lost a couple pounds through the last month, if the scale is to be believed even with the brace included. Then I turned and backed toward the shower, and grabbed one of the handles on the shower seat, hoping it would be stable. It was. I sat down and looked up. The cut off valve was way up there, so I grabbed a crutch and levered myself up and then sat down again.
Then off with the brace, unclipping the speed-release clips that remind me of the ski-boot closures we used to wear. The lower one- the one down by the ankle- was a challenge, and would require a significant re-engineering to get it back on. But I decided to deal with that buckle when I got to it again, and dropped the brace outside the shower.
Then I dropped the soap. Lost forever, or at least for the duration of this encounter with water, but no matter. Not now.
I shampooed up in luxurious lather. I found the shaving cream and the razor and sliced off the two-day growth on my face. Then back to the hand-held to scald in delightful release.
When the hot wonderful water had sluiced away all the soap, north and south, I turned off the water, and contemplated just how I was going to get the towel and the brace back on my leg. I am getting quite adept at fishing things around with the crutch, and in a split half-hour was pulling up a fresh pair of shorts and clean t-shirt.
I have not felt so good in a month. Oh, baby!