AMERICAN AIRLINES UPDATE -- THE GOOD NEWS

AMERICAN AIRLINES RESPONDS TO 

FLIGHT CREW THAT DAMAGED 

HEIDI JOHNSON-WRIGHT'S WHEELCHAIR

A Disability Services specialist from American Airlines has been in contact with us to address the situation when a flight crew refused to allow Heidi's wheelchair aboard, resulting in damages from being stored below.

The American Airlines person was very kind, accommodating and apologetic.

She said crews would be trained better to accommodate people who travel by wheelchair.

Here's the back story on what happened:

Although the chair collapses down and the wheels and footrests come off for stowage, the crew didn't want to rearrange its closet to accommodate the wheelchair.

When we arrived in Mexico City on Christmas Day 2011, the wheelchair was damaged.

The only reason Heidi is smiling above at Parque Mexico is that the outstanding crew at the St. Regis Hotel Mexico City patched up her chair.

For the full story, read our blog entries from December 31, 2011 through January 9, 2012.

Bottom line, American will try harder next time.

Their point person for disabled passengers has promised.

Committing to serve all guests, including those who travel by wheelchair, is the best Valentine's gift our favorite air carrier could give us.

THIS STORY CONTINUES TOMORROW, FEBRUARY 15

THE RECOVERY -- PART 13

ESSAY BY HEIDI JOHNSON-WRIGHT

I was referred to Dr. P, an anesthesiologist, in yet another attempt to find a solution.

A pleasant, unassuming man, he made no guarantees but promised to do his very best to help. 

In a three week period, I went to him twice.

Both times, I lie prone in an out-patient O.R. suite, while Dr. P. and his team looked into my pelvis and groin with a fluoroscope.

Using a nerve stimulator, he located the place to inject me. 

The whole process took less than 30 minutes and hurt less than a flu shot.

Within two weeks of the second injection, I returned to swimming twice a week.

I was able to increase my walking to multiple 100 feet treks each day. 

And the worst of the blasted pain was gone.

It’s been nearly 18 months since my surgery.

I have very nearly reached my goal to return to the same level of activity I was capable of prior to getting a new hip and femur.

Make no mistake: my sciatic nerve still occasionally lets me know that it can be a very nasty SOB.

But I have gotten my life back. 

And there are still so many bullrings to explore.     

Heidi Johnson-Wright is an attorney and ADA professional. She lives with her husband in the Little Havana neighborhood of Miami, FL.

THE RECOVERY -- PART 12

ESSAY BY HEIDI JOHNSON-WRIGHT

I tried everything possible: PT, rest, electrical stimulation, massage, heat, ice, and meditation.

I took Vicodin round the clock.

Nothing worked and nothing mattered, as I grew more morose. 

Each successive pain management doc had a different theory.

I heard: “This was a big surgery; it will take a year to come back from it.” 

Or “It’s only been three (four, five, six, seven) months since the surgery. Be patient.”

On my office wall, I had a photo that my husband had taken of me in the bullring in Ronda, Spain on a trip four years before. 

There I stood in my best cocky matador’s pose, full of life. 

Superimposed over the photo were lyrics from a song by David Sylvian:   

“Life is a bullring for taking risks and flouting rules.”

Now each time I looked at the photo, I fought back tears. 

The woman in the photo seemed like a stranger. I simply could not imagine ever feeling so joyful again. 

RECOVERY ESSAY CONTINUES TOMORROW -- FEBRUARY 13

THE RECOVERY -- PART 11

ESSAY BY HEIDI JOHNSON-WRIGHT

My leg was still very weak, but I knew this would improve. 

At last, it seemed that my life was on the road back to normal.

Then Thanksgiving came, and it was as if a trap door had opened and I fell straight into hell.

The next four months were a blurry nightmare of unrelenting pain. 

Some days it felt like battery acid on the back of my thigh, or I was being Tasered in the groin.

Other days a sickening achy, pulling sensation took center stage.

What never varied was the intense pain every time I stood or attempted to walk. 

Prolonged sitting brought on more pain.

I was only comfortable lying flat on my back with my legs elevated on a pillow.

My life was reduced to a miserable slog of trying to get through each day.

I constantly strategized so I could minimize any amount of weight bearing.

Months before at the rehab center, I could walk over 100 feet at a time.

Now I could barely manage 10 feet. 

RECOVERY ESSAY CONTINUES TOMORROW -- FEBRUARY 12 

THE RECOVERY -- PART 10

ESSAY BY HEIDI JOHNSON-WRIGHT

By my second full day, I walked about 30 feet. 

By discharge day, I could walk 130 feet at a stretch.

I was sent home with a customized platform walker, PT orders and prescriptions. 

My husband took me out for Chinese food on the ride home to celebrate.

For the next couple weeks, I worked like a dog each day on exercises.

My hope was to return to work in five or six weeks.

All was going well until about a month after the surgery, when excruciating muscle spasms and nerve pain came out of the blue.

I had suffered with musculoskeletal pain for 30 years, but nothing could have prepared me for this load of bricks.

My surgeon confirmed that the bones were healing very well, but the pain was likely the result of his lengthening my leg about a half inch. 

The muscles and nerves were being required to serve a longer leg, and were temporarily rebelling.

He gave me muscle relaxants and a nerve med.

I was much better in a couple weeks, and eased back into a full-time work schedule.  

SAY CONTINUES TOMORROW -- FEBRUARY 11

THE RECOVERY -- PART 9

 ESSAY BY HEIDI JOHNSON-WRIGHT

That first evening in my private (!) room was heavenly. 

I took my first shower in eight days. I used a toilet instead of a bedpan.

I sat up in a chair while I ate a decent meal. I lay down on soft, clean sheets and watched Animal Planet.

I worked harder than I ever had over the next week. 

My day was rigidly scheduled from 6:30 am until 5 pm every day but Sunday.

I quickly learned that treatment protocols for joint replacements had changed considerably over 30 years.

As a teenager, I had to lie flat on my back for an hour after each hour I sat up because of concerns about swelling at the surgical site. 

For the first month after surgery, it was one hour up, then one hour down, over and over again. 

But now, the rehab staff had me sitting up all day long, regardless of how much my leg ballooned up by day’s end. 

One thing that hadn’t changed: I could sleep only on my back for six weeks, a miserable situation for a side sleeper. 

RECOVERY ESSAY CONTINUES TOMORROW -- FEBRUARY 10

THE RECOVERY -- PART 8

ESSAY BY HEIDI JOHNSON-WRIGHT

I was expected to start weight bearing just a couple days after surgery. 

The hospital’s PT staff was unable to bring me the type of walker I needed to attempt to stand, despite my daily entreaties. 

Three days after surgery, a PT somehow persuaded me to walk a couple steps with nothing to take the weight off my legs but holding his hand. I’m not a bragger, but I guarantee even Dick Butkus would have wept like a baby from the amount of pain it brought me.

I knew it was hospital discharge day because that’s when the maintenance staff fixed the A/C in my room. 

The rehab facility had everything the hospital did not: highly skilled PTs, OTs, and nurses who knew how to care for hip patients, quality cable TV and functioning A/C with a thermostat I could control! 

RECOVERY ESSAY CONTINUES TOMORROW -- FEBRUARY 9