Shower Time

By Day 4 post-surgery, and Day 6 since Paul’s last shower, we were both ready to give the Tub Transfer Bench a try.  As the nurse had instructed, I used Cling Wrap and waterproof hospital tape to dry-in the wound.  Starting on top of the incision, I wound a roll of Cling Wrap twice around the top of his leg, covering the area from the top bend of the thigh down to mid-thigh.  I’m not a nurse and by nature I’m clumsy so the wrapping was not pretty, but I felt sure it would hold.  I helped him out of bed and he began the walk to the shower room.

Our tub shower had been transformed.  Pulling back the shower curtain, we stared at the tub bench, the grab bar stuck to the tile, and the shower head pointing low to the ground.  We got him seated on the bench and I watched as he carefully pulled over the ‘good’ leg followed by the ‘bad’ leg.   I started the water, adjusting the water temp.  When it felt hot enough I looked at Paul and asked, “Ready?”  He nodded, and I moved the shower head to let the water run over his lower legs.  “Great job, hon,” I said, “you’re taking a shower!”

I used a plastic cup to pour water over him and was reminded of bathing my children when they were little or my grandchildren when they visit.  Paul of course wanted to heavily lather the soap, but I reminded him this wasn’t supposed to be a full blown shower – the risk of infection if we got the stitches wet was too great at this point.  Even so, I could tell he was finally feeling better, a little more human, the way a shower will do after you’ve waited so long for it.  He sang in a happy, loud off-key tone, asked me to use more soap, and insisted that certain body parts needed more attention than others.   I decided to have a little fun of my own by putting the bar of soap just out of reach, or moving the shower head to hit only his toes. 

I think he would have stayed in the shower for hours, but I had a few other things to do that day so I told him it was time to rinse.  For some reason he wouldn’t let me rinse him with the urinal, even though I assured him it had been thoroughly rinsed out.  I guess post-surgical sense of humor has its limits.

For my husband, drying off before stepping out of the shower is a novel concept but for once I had a bit of control over that.  I toweled his torso dry while he was still sitting, and when he exited the bathroom he learned it was possible to walk into the dressing area without dripping.  The Shower was followed by The Toenail Cut – it only made sense while everything was so clean.  Let’s just say that I’m not cut out to be a pedicurist, but I got the job done.  Can’t have those lovely support stockings getting snagged.

Then the Grand Finale -  getting dressed.  Worn out from the effort of taking a shower, Paul laid down on the bed, relaxing while I pulled underwear, shorts and shirt onto his clean body.  All that remained were the support hose.   These were the most important – along with the blood-thinner shots they would help prevent a blood clot.

Done.  Clean and dressed, I looked at my husband now resting.   Mission Accomplished.  Until next time.