A second chance
Awake now, neck to hips in a brace, arms won't budge, but my eyes can move, my eyes can see the ceiling and the corners of the ceiling and the room I am in. I remember I'm not to move my neck or my head. I hear doors crash open and close while footsteps walk quietly in and out and doors slam shut announcing their departure. I can't move. I have little memory of the weekend, of the sudden operation, of the weeks before when I slowly lost my balance, my feeling, my ability to do things. The doctors could find nothing wrong, and sent me to a shrink, whose first open appointment was in 6 weeks. When he saw me, he said, "Go directly to the emergency room. Do not go home, I will call them. They will expect you. " Not Guillaume Barre, as he had thought, but a cyst in my neck, and they finally found what had caused the problems. Two days later I had major surgery. I would be in a brace for six months. The surgeon was pleased with the outcome, and came to talk to me, even though I was barely awake. He said something about I could shower but not get the stitches wet and not bend. I was not sure what he meant. I could not move my arms. I could not push the button to call a nurse. When the food tray came, I could not feed myself. I could not sit, lift my head, lift a finger. What would I do? Children at home, laundry, life, and I could do nothing? The next days were a blur. Visitors, children, but I could not feed myself, sit or lift my hands. What would I do? They would release me Friday, but I could not go home. Flat on my back, I could not even turn over!
It was decided that for my rehab I would go to Drake Hospital. I could NOT go home, since I was not ready to walk(HA). The discussion was whether or not I could sit long enough to be driven in an ambulance in a wheelchair, which would be covered, or pay out of pocket to be lying down. I recall how painful every bump of the trip was, sitting, to be driven to Drake, not able to sit at all. It was torture, but I was determined not to pay $600. for the convenience of lying down.
Support came to me from friends and family and everywhere. I was surrounded by loving thoughts and help at home while I could not be there. All I needed to do was get well, and every time I worried about not getting better I remembered that my children needed me back. I had no choice.
The first assignment we were given was to sit. Then to sit in a wheelchair, and to work a wheelchair. Therapy of all kinds started from early morning til late afternoon. Stand and play cards. Learn to open the sugar packets. Use the spoon. Brush teeth. Squeeze toothpaste. Bicycle arms; ten times; twenty ; many more.
I recall a young man coming to talk to us: a group of wheelchair bound patients just arrived at Drake. He had been there a few weeks. He said he knows what we are going through, and we have to work hard. He knows the program works, and that we should not give up, because he has walked and worked it and wants us to do it too. The therapists tells us, whatever we do in the first two years will be permanent. If we do nothing, that will be permanent, too. It is up to us to decide to work with the therapy and move forward as far as is possible within those two years.
I will say that it was the most painful experience I have ever had, building new passages for the muscle stimulus(or whatever that is called). I cannot describe the pain, but can say that it is the kind of pain that you endure, because it is hopeful pain with expectation. You say, "I feel pain, therefore, I can feel. Therefore, I will walk again, and maybe the wheelchair will not be the end of my two year achievement."
I had always prided myself in being balanced in ballet, holding a pose, or doing 3 pirouettes without struggling. Now I found even the slightest balance problematic, even with both feet and a walker on the ground. Yet today I am not always safe in the shower without a rail. What I mastered at Drake is amazing. They have a suite for departing guests, where you live on your own, and only ring for help when needed, to show you are ready to live independently. I felt ready to leave after only 4 weeks. It is true, I could not drive, or bend, or shower, but I could go home, and continue to live normally and get a second chance at life, thanks to the great surgeon that took a tricky cyst out of my neck without harming me, and the therapists that helped me regain the functions of hands and feet. I wobble a bit and I cannot dance anymore, but had I lived at any other time I doubt that I would be here to write any of these blogs.
It was decided that for my rehab I would go to Drake Hospital. I could NOT go home, since I was not ready to walk(HA). The discussion was whether or not I could sit long enough to be driven in an ambulance in a wheelchair, which would be covered, or pay out of pocket to be lying down. I recall how painful every bump of the trip was, sitting, to be driven to Drake, not able to sit at all. It was torture, but I was determined not to pay $600. for the convenience of lying down.
Support came to me from friends and family and everywhere. I was surrounded by loving thoughts and help at home while I could not be there. All I needed to do was get well, and every time I worried about not getting better I remembered that my children needed me back. I had no choice.
The first assignment we were given was to sit. Then to sit in a wheelchair, and to work a wheelchair. Therapy of all kinds started from early morning til late afternoon. Stand and play cards. Learn to open the sugar packets. Use the spoon. Brush teeth. Squeeze toothpaste. Bicycle arms; ten times; twenty ; many more.
I recall a young man coming to talk to us: a group of wheelchair bound patients just arrived at Drake. He had been there a few weeks. He said he knows what we are going through, and we have to work hard. He knows the program works, and that we should not give up, because he has walked and worked it and wants us to do it too. The therapists tells us, whatever we do in the first two years will be permanent. If we do nothing, that will be permanent, too. It is up to us to decide to work with the therapy and move forward as far as is possible within those two years.
I will say that it was the most painful experience I have ever had, building new passages for the muscle stimulus(or whatever that is called). I cannot describe the pain, but can say that it is the kind of pain that you endure, because it is hopeful pain with expectation. You say, "I feel pain, therefore, I can feel. Therefore, I will walk again, and maybe the wheelchair will not be the end of my two year achievement."
I had always prided myself in being balanced in ballet, holding a pose, or doing 3 pirouettes without struggling. Now I found even the slightest balance problematic, even with both feet and a walker on the ground. Yet today I am not always safe in the shower without a rail. What I mastered at Drake is amazing. They have a suite for departing guests, where you live on your own, and only ring for help when needed, to show you are ready to live independently. I felt ready to leave after only 4 weeks. It is true, I could not drive, or bend, or shower, but I could go home, and continue to live normally and get a second chance at life, thanks to the great surgeon that took a tricky cyst out of my neck without harming me, and the therapists that helped me regain the functions of hands and feet. I wobble a bit and I cannot dance anymore, but had I lived at any other time I doubt that I would be here to write any of these blogs.
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