$3 Salvation

I figured while on the topic of bathrooms I might as well go all out and get this out of the way. When you have a broken hip, bathtubs are the devil reincarnate.

My bathroom was never really meant to be a bathroom. It's not its' fault. It was built before bathrooms even existed. Someone just retro fitted it into one. And whoever did it did a pretty shitty job. It was probably one of my relatives, not that they'd admit it knowing my hatred of it. There's about a foot gap between the bathtub, sink, and toilet. The sink can't even have a cabinet on it because there'd be no room to walk.

Stepping into a bathtub with a broken hip is, impossible. It's like a step, but twice as high and painful. And when that step's complete you have to try not to slip and die. Physically, I may be able to get into my tub by now. I'll be damned if I'll try it though. There's no rubber mat to keep me from slipping to my doom, or a grab bar to help me attempt to save myself when I do. I'm flat out uninterested. Maybe if I was suicidal I'd give it a go.

I had to get a ton of medical equipment coming home from the nursing home and one of the items was a shower bench, so that I could "scoot" into my bathtub. Now, the delivery guy took one look at my bathroom and asked if my family wanted him to take it back because "It wouldn't work. The bathroom's to small." We have stubborn blood though and my family's all NO! It'll be fine! So one fine day I tried it for the first time, and I cried like a bitch in protest. It was pretty horrifying, because seriously, there was just no room so you couldn't really use it as it was meant to be used.

After about three times of going through that I decided that I was just going to live like a homeless person and stink. It was more appealing. Then, I figured out a trick that has saved me. An important part of this is making sure you get a wheelchair that leans back when you're discharged, although if you have a broken hip you probably will anyways. 

The local hairdresser right by my therapy place will wash my hair for $3. Yeah, that's right. THREE DOLLARS.

You could probably convince me to pay $50 not to have to go through the horrors of my bathtub, but three? It was like a miracle.

So, I bathe out of my sink like a nomad and get my hair done every week like I got money to blow, except it's only three bucks.

Really not to sure what's going to happen with my bathtub. I know for one, I need to get a rubber mat. A grab bar will never happen, walls are to thin. For now, I'm satisfied with my routine, but eventually, I have to get back to my old one. I'm just not to sure how to go about it yet.