Silver lining: while my broken leg heals, I’m in a good position to reflect on how personal technology can play a role in surgical recovery (or temporary/permanent disability, or quality of life for the elderly). Now that I have the energy to sit at my computer for a while, I’ll reflect on how that technology has changed in the past few years and the near-future opportunities, as well. I’m still taking narcotic painkillers now and then, so I won’t promise to be coherent.
Having a smartphone with various messaging options and friends/family who use 21st century communication protocols makes such a difference. I’ll contrast my experience with that of my hospital roommate. She was in her early 60s and had a cell phone of some sort, but she only used it for voice calls. That’s better than only having the hospital landline, but still not the best solution. Why not?
- Annoying in close quarters: I heard every detail of every conversation she had, day or night. While this sometimes provided entertainment — I got to hear her embellish the story of her surgery with each call and gossip maliciously about people she had just spoken with — it was infuriating when I was tired and in pain. The other side of that coin is that she had no privacy. With text messaging, I was able to converse silently at any time.
- Phone tag vs message threads: One afternoon my roommate was bored and I think she called half the people in her contact list without getting an answer. She left some messages, sighed a lot, and then flipped on the TV. I had conversations underway with my husband, local friends, and distant friends from Oz to the Orkneys, and if there was a pause of minutes or hours while someone slept/worked/ate/did something else, it was no big deal. Asynchronous communication means you don’t always have to stop and start a conversation, but can pop back into a thread as time allows.
- Presence indicator: In a related vein, when I was having a bored mopey afternoon like she had, I could see who was active online rather than fishing through my address book.
Part of the isolation of being housebound or in the hospital is that the ability to participate in the lives of others is reduced. It’s impossible to attend parties or go to events. Social media allows me to still have a presence in those activities. I won’t argue that watching a concert video my friend posted is the same as going along, but Liking and commenting on it shows I’m aware of and interested in her life; it helps refresh our connection. I can read and watch news to stay connected to the larger outside world, but social media keeps me connected to the more personal spheres.
There are options available that I didn’t use: Skype or FaceTime video chats, for example, or keeping up with other social media platforms, or trying to use Second Life on my phone. Now that I’m home, I can return to virtual world socializing. I don’t have much of an attention span for it yet, but I know I’ll appreciate being able to travel, dance, drive, and simply move through a three dimensional world.
I can clearly remember the first time I played an arcade game: Centipede, in Buffalo Children’s Hospital, early 1982. 33 years later I sprawled in my hospital bed and played far more advanced games on my phone. I also had access to a couple hundred CDs from my collection and limitless music streaming on various platforms. I could choose from thousands of streaming movies and TV shows.
My hospital provides each patient a television with a decent selection of basic cable channels. It’s quite nice, but at night when there was less demand on the WiFi network, I propped up my smartphone and streamed Orange is the New Black on Netflix. Being able to choose something for myself when I was dependent on others for my basic needs was invaluable. In a little way, it helped me remain me and feel less lost in the pain and humiliation.
Even now that I’m home, when I can’t sleep I flip open TuneIn Radio Pro and listen to a podcast or play a silly matching game until my eyelids are heavy. Those are much better options than staring at the ceiling and obsessing over the ache in my leg.
My Internet of Things automation options are few right now: an Amazon Echo, two WeMo switches, and Nest thermostats. None of these were options for me a mere five years ago, however, so it’s interesting to consider whether they make a significant difference. For me, I think the answer is a firm, “Yes, but….” Yes, these devices make several things much easier and enable more independence, but there is so much potential just over the horizon.
While I can’t climb stairs easily, my bed is in our first floor dining room. The Echo and my Android smartphone give me the ability to turn lights on and off, adjust the temperature, and run the fan if I’m a bit overheated. The Echo recognizes the WeMo switches but not the Nests, which is annoying. I can say, “Alexa, turn on family room,” to have her activate that WeMo switch, but the IF recipes that can pair Echo with Nest are clumsy hacks, things like “if I add any item to my Echo To Do list, set the Nest to 72 degrees.” There’s significant room for improvement.
I’m lucky. My stupid body might injure easily, but it also heals like a champ. I expect to be walking again by Fall and my gadgets can go back to being toys more than tools. For now, though, I’m glad I have more options than I did just a few years ago.