Today has been a very shitty day, in every sense of the word. I hate to resort to vulgarities, but I feel as though it is the only word that can appropriately express the level of exhaustion and anger that I currently feel. I've been struggling more than ever to keep my sanity, and keep pushing forward, and today is a classic example, of the overwhelming tragedy and frustration that paralysis has thrust into my life. Despite my best efforts, I'm forever left feeling like a prisoner within my own flesh, and wanting anything to escape. I feel the need to share today's events, so far, to highlight the ugliness of paralysis, and shine a light on many reasons why living with paralysis has been, and continues to be so challenging for me. I'd challenge anyone to live through a few days like today, and still be able to be joyful and find motivation for wanting to keep living, paralyzed.
Today started like many mornings have, since my accident; sleepless and in pain. I spent the better part of last night uncomfortable, with cold sweats, chills, and mystery chest pressure, keeping me awake. I lie in bed trying to find comfort in the only position that doesn't hurt my shoulders (on my back- which is never how I used to sleep), and toss and turn my head, from left, to right, and back again. All the while, my mind is racing at top speed- apparently, the only speed I have- and I'm trying my best to ignore my discomfort. It's amazing how uncomfortable I can be, despite that fact that I can't actually feel most of my body. The little I can feel is full of annoyances, and the littlest of movements can trigger a leg spasm, move my hair out of place, create an itch I can't scratch, tense up my arm, or any number of stupid little things, that I can try to ignore, or call someone for help. I end up ignoring about half of my impulses, out of decency and consideration for my family/aides. Either way, most every night is a restless night, full of inner turmoil and despair. I can't help but beat myself up, over my accident and cling to the life I had. All of my memories bring with them a certain amount of grief, and I have yet to find a way to let go of what I lost (in both potential for the future and in reality). I spend most my nights trying to distract myself from negative thoughts, and find enough peace to fall asleep. Unfortunately, even sleep is not an escape, as many nights are filled with bad dreams, that make waking up seem somewhat better. I pray and pray, and ask God for a cure, to take me, and spare me the suffering, or at the very least, give me some measure of understanding, as to why my life has to be so difficult. In that respect, last night was the same as every other night since my accident; no answers and little sleep. Once I finally did manage to fall asleep, it was nearly 9am and my nurse was already on her way.
My nurse arrived around nine thirty, and so began my bowel program, most certainly my most hated aspect of life with paralysis. Bleary eyed, sick to my stomach, and depressed to be starting off my day in such a horribly violating way, I say nothing as my mom and nurse begin to strip off my adult diaper (wonderfully sexy garment) and roll me on to the sling. Next, it's time to get pumped up into the hoyer lift, and take the adrenaline filled ride, across the room to my most hated piece of furniture, my commode. It's impossible to explain to fear and mix of sensations that go through my mind, as my body is suspended in mid air, with no means of stopping myself from falling, or way to brace myself for impact. The hoyer lift makes me feel like I'm floating through the air (not in a good way), and unless you are paralyzed, it's hard to imagine how terrifying a small "ride" can seem. It is one small aspect of life that I've learned to tolerate, and although it makes me on edge, once I'm safely strapped into my commode, or landed in my wheelchair, it's not a big deal, and something that makes caring for me easier on my family/aides. As scary as it can be sometimes, it beats getting picked up and carried, which is usually more painful, and more dangerous, for everyone involved. Once I got strapped into the commode, the nurse wheeled me into the bathroom to begin the bowel regime. It's an awful necessity, that has never gotten any easier to deal with.
The only comparison I can think of, to accurately describe my feelings toward bowel program is rape. Although I realize that is a very strong word, with very negative connotations, hear me out. Before my accident, I was a very self conscious person (still am) and had many issues regarding the bathroom (still do). I was very private and couldn't stand the thought of using public restrooms, outside of my home, and a very few select friends' home to EVER "go number two." I can count on one hand the number of times that in almost TWENTY FIVE YEARS of my life on my feet that my IBS forced me into the shame and embarrassment of violating my own code of bathroom conduct. I find everything about poop, and feces related actions (aka-passing gas) humiliating, unladylike, and disgusting. If I had a choice, I'd negate the whole process all together, and have said many times, to many doctors, that I'd gladly trade in food, for a liquid diet, if it meant I could not have to "go" again. Obviously, that is not and option; I must eat and therefore poo. Having a spinal cord injury has made my worst fears a reality. It is truly Hell on Earth. Not only am I forced into revealing ever flaw, and every inch of my naked body, I'm forced into being violated on a near daily basis. Incontinence, and the anxiety over accidents, practically rule my life. I feel shame and embarrassment having to have other adult human beings not only acutely aware of my bodily functions, but up close and personal, in my face, and in my space, whether I want them there or not. I'm forced into accepting another human being, put their finger up my rear end, multiple times, every other morning, to stimulate my body into doing a process, it should be able to do naturally, and on my own. Personal space and privacy are luxuries that do not exist in my life. This morning, like so many other mornings, I had to make a "choice" to accept help, and accept having a bowel regime, despite my embarrassment, loathing, and revulsion to the process, because my only other alternatives are to become impacted, septic, and die, or have a colostomy bag strapped to my side (a bag full of the single most hated and embarrassing thing possible, in my mind). Do you really consider that a choice? I'm forced into accepting the bizarre, unnatural and repulsive, because the only choice, is to become sicker and/or possibly die. My paralysis shoves bowel program down my throat, and silences my voice, because there is no viable alternative. My body no longer answers to me, therefore I'm forced into answering to other people. Right now there is no cure. There's life; paralyzed. Take it, or leave it. That is my only real choice.
My list for reasons to want to die vastly outweighs my reasons for staying. The thing that keeps me here is fear. I don't have a strong faith in God (like many people have). Instead, I have a mountain of fear and doubt. I was raised Catholic, and although I don't believe in much of the religion, I do hope that there is a God. Catholicism is not a very flexible, open-minded religion, in my experience. I attended Catholic school for the first ten years of my schooling, and although I don't buy into most of the rituals and the emphasis the Catholic church puts on going to church and the Pope, the lessons I learned as a child, still have a hold on me. I wish that I had a strong faith in God, any God, because I have seen what peace of mind and strength that faith has given to other people. One of the reasons that turned me off to my childhood belief in God, was the rigidness of the religion I grew up. I consider myself to be a very open minded, liberal person, and those aspects of my personality make it extremely hard for me to believe in the triumphalist type belief system of most organized religions. I've read a lot about (and watched documentaries) about various religions. I enjoy history. I enjoy philosophy and the history of how religions were formed, and came to be. I've read a lot of the Old & New Testament of the Bible throughout my life. It seems absurd to me that God, an omniscient, omnipotent being, that has the capacity to create our entire universe, would be hung over petty rituals and/or the name by which we call him/her/it/them. I can't believe that if there is a God, that he/she/it/them would punish damn someone to an eternity of suffering, despite that person being kind, and good, because that person wasn't born into the right culture, time, or place, or didn't worship him/her/it/them by the right name. I can't stand that people are willing to hurt other people in God's name. It's horribly asinine to think that such a powerful, all knowing being, would want their/his/hers/its creation to waste its energy and time on hurting one another. If most people would be open minded enough to learn about other religions and consider each other, as equal, human beings, it would be obvious, that there are basic messages that transcend all faiths; to love one another.
Before my accident I probably would've classified myself as an Atheist. Now I guess I'm Agnostic. I'm not really sold on any particular God(s) or religion, but I do want to believe in something. Catholicism is very clearly opposed to suicide. Catholicism very clearly states that the only path to heaven is Jesus. I have a VERY hard time accepting both of those "truths." I have a lot of friends of varying faiths, that are good people, that contribute to society in positive ways and are kind to their fellow man. I can't bring myself to worship a God that would condemn my loved ones and friends to a firey abyss, just because they don't call him Jesus. If there is an afterlife I have to believe it's open to all good human beings and that if there is any judgment, that it's fair and just. I'll never be sold on the thought that God would care about insignificant things like clothes or what type of food we eat. My Catholic upbringing causes me to have a lot of fear and anxiety over what will happen to my soul, if I have one. I want to believe that God is not as rigid, jealous and inflexible, as Christianity, Judaism or Islam would have us believe. People say God only gives us what we can handle, but I feel like my life is proof that that isn't true. I can't handle the curve ball that life (or God) has given me. There are so many paradoxes, that keep me always doubting and questioning. I mean, if God loves me, how can he/she/it/them let me suffer? If God has a plan for us, then how can we also have freewill? I'm a logical, realistic person, that makes it very hard for me to believe. I know having faith means blindly believing, but it's not something I can force. On the other hand, the teachings that I was brought up with, very clearly state that I will go to Hell if I give up on life. The thing is, I feel like my situation is not average and I don't know whether God would consider not accepting help, as suicide. I'm not an able bodied person, putting a gun to my head, because my marriage failed, or I lost money in the stock market. My life is sustained by very unconventional means. I'm not healthy. I'm suffering.
It is my doubt and confusion over my faith in God and refusing help that keeps me here. Although I do feel sorry for family, in that I know they would be sad if I died, I feel as though I have already given them 5 1/2 years extra time with me, and I feel that my suffering has been sufficient enough to feel satisfied that I've tried my best, and given them my best effort. I think it would be selfish of them, and cruel to expect any more from me, and hope that despite their grief, that they would understand my death would alleviate my suffering. Besides, if there truly is an afterlife they can draw strength from knowing we'll be reunited. What stops me from giving into my wish to die, is my uncertainty over what will happen to my soul. It's horrible having anxiety over a soul I'm not even convinced I have. All I have is doubt. I'd like to believe that if God does exist, he/she/it/they knows my heart better than anyone, and knows how much I've suffered and how sorry I feel for wanting to give up. I'm don't think refusing help is the same as a healthy person committing suicide. Like I've said in a previous response, if I technically "left my life in God's hands" I'd be dead. I can't care for myself. I'm only here because the resources exist to keep me here. The problem is, I'm not happy. I don't consider this a quality life. I know I have talents. I'm aware I'm gifted in writing and art. The problem is, it's not enough. While I might have the ability to still do certain things, they're not enough to fulfill me. It makes me frustrated, confused and angry that everyone (including God-evidently) would be fine and respect the fact that I don't want to live dependent on machines. I can refuse a vent and get into heaven, but I if I refuse my bowel program, I'm committing suicide and will be damned to hell. Quality of life means more to me than quantity. Most people don't want to admit, or can't understand how awful my life is. No one would want my life for themselves. It seems very harsh to me that I'm forced to endure so much pain and that God would punish me, for not wanting to suffer. It takes A LOT to keep me alive; living a life I hate. The rules of suicide and what God would or wouldn't consider suicide, seem very unfair, confusing and ambiguous. It's fear and doubt that keep me here.
It's fear that keeps me pushing forward, on days like today, when I'm worn down and feeling like I'm forced into accepting horrible conditions. This morning during bowel program, I felt horrible. I was clammy, with cold sweat, and shivering with cold (phantom feelings of cold, in limbs I can no longer feel, on the outside). I wanted to disappear and run away, but I couldn't. Bowel program is the only option available (that I'm even unwillingly up to considering), to give me any sort of regularity and combat against incontinence. It is not natural. There is no privacy. Embarrassment doesn't matter. This morning I had the added discomfort of nausea, which is the only thing equally horrible to bowel program. There I sat, half nude, strapped to a chair, over a toilet, bent with nausea, no means to stop it, or way to clean up, no where to hide, no relief, and all the while I'm enduring my nurse forcing my body to expel what I no longer can. In that moment of nausea I wanted to die. I prayed to God to take me. I couldn't imagine my life any worse. Doubled over with nausea, and choking back tears, I felt I needed to get back into bed, and hoped that lying down would offer some relief. While having bowel program in bed disgusts me way more than doing it over a toilet, it's something I was forced to accept, every night, for the first year and a half, after my injury. Although I hated the thought of having to do it, anything that might take the nausea away, in that moment, was worth doing. I asked my nurse to call my mom in for help, and they rolled me back into the room, and hastily began getting me ready for the hoyer ride back to bed. Just as they started to lift me up, and I felt as though I would vomit, my body decides to defecate, all over my bedroom floor. My mom, and nurse, highly aware of how much this would upset me, rushed around and try to contain the mess, while at the same time get me safely back into my bed. By this point, I'm numb. This is the point where the mind starts to short circuit, because it just can't handle any more trauma. As the nausea subsided, I landed in my bed, and my nurse began to tend to me, while I watched my mother scrub my beige carpet, for the next hour, filled with shoulder pain. What could I do but just lay there and accept it? It's mornings like today that make me want to scream in rage, in the unjustness of it, and makes finding a silver lining to life, near impossible. Who would want this type of life for themselves? The only motivating force in my life to keep going, is often the fact that I feel like I have no other choice. I have to take it, or leave it for what it is, no matter how unhappy I am, or how much I hate the "choices."
It's days like today that make me question God's existence and what he/she/it/they think about my life, and make me question why I should have to continue living. It seems so cruel to me, that society and my religion (the belief system that I was raised with) expect me to endure living with paralysis. I feel like a loving God would understand my suffering and understand my need to escape. Surely, my Earthly parents love me as much as God does, and yet I know if they had it within their power, they'd have healed me right away. I can't even ask them to help me end my suffering, because society rather keep me living, no matter the price I have to pay. It infuriates me that our society (based solely on our laws) values the "life" of 3-5 day old cells (blastocysts) enough to not want to use them for research that could potentially alleviate my suffering, and that of millions of LIVING people, just like me. Our laws dictate that they rather see those cells be thrown away, rather than help me. That's how little my suffering matters, how easy it is to look away. We treat our pets with more respect, compassion and dignity, than we do people like me (people with extreme disability and chronic, incurable illness). I don't get the option to die peacefully. I have to suffer. I feel as though it is irrational and hypocritical to ask me, to expect me to, to demand I live this way. How can we put such a high value on something that has no chance at ever living (outside a womb), and turn a deaf ear to people that live and suffer, every day? How is it that we are compassionate enough to not want to see an animal suffer (when we know there is no cure and prolonged suffering is inevitable), but not enough to allow me to die in peace, with dignity and respect? Instead, I'm asked to live an impossibly difficult life, that no one would ever choose for themselves. Why can't I have the same rights that my dog and cat have? I can't help but feel outraged, and desperately sad, at how trapped I am. I feel like I'm stuck with choices I don't want to choose, and no way out. So here I sit, forced to somehow keep moving forward, while keeping my sanity. It's a predicament I wouldn't wish on my worst of enemies.
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
Taking Advice, Getting Feedback and Reasons For Sharing
I've gotten quite a lot of feedback, from my last two blogs, which I originally posted in the CareCure (online community related to spinal cord injuries)forums. Besides the wonderfully kind words of encouragement, and empathy, two of the key issues that were brought up were, possible alternatives to some of my most difficult obstacles and suggestions based on personal experience. I really appreciate all the ideas, feedback, life stories and concrete answers that people took the time to write. A few of the issues that I would like to highlight, and expand on reasoning, are the issuses of personal hygiene and my reasons for being so open about my life; even embarrassing and/or painful aspects of life, that most people find hard to discuss.
The number one, hardest aspect of living with paralysis for me is all of the highly intimate hygiene issues that I need help with. One of my biggest stressors is my bowel program (as itis for many people in my situation) and the only real alternative, would be to have a colostomy. This has been suggested to me, both recently and in the past. The thought of a colostomy bag is (to me) 1,000 times worst than BP. Just the thought of it depresses me. No offense, but it's definitely not for me Ideally, not having to go number two in the first place would be my solution. Unfortunately, that's not possible. The whole bodily fluid thing really disturbs me & grosses me out. I'd literally give up eating, if it meant I only had to deal with urine. As much as I love food, I gladly trade in a liquid diet, if it meant I could avoid needing to ever have a bowel movement. That's how much I hate the whole process, in general. I know it's a natural bodily function, that everyone does. I've just always been uptight about it. I guess you could say I'm somewhat "poopaphobic." I don't want to have to do it, or be around it, so the thought of having a bag of it strapped to me, is probably the worst case scenario I can think of. I've always been very private about bathroom & hygiene stuff, so being paralyzed is horrible. I find it disgusting and unladylike. I normaly would've never wanted to discuss it (and find it challenging to be so revealing), but feel it needs to be said, because the average has no clue, and would otherwise (and often does) take this fact for granted. I'm forced into having help with bathroom needs and it's never gotten any easier.
Sometimes I think being a woman, makes it even harder to accept & not be embarrassed. I don't know, but all my guy friends (able bodied & non) are way more easy going & less bothered by stuff like that. I mean let's put it this way, I dated someone for almost six years (also lived together for a portion of that time) and I never once passed gas in front of him. In the 24yrs I was on my feet I never once went number two in a public restroom. So you can imagine, having BP & a catheter is pretty much like hell on earth for me. Not to mention, as a woman, I have to also accept help every month with my period & other various feminine hygiene issues, that men just don't have. All in all, the adjustment to needing help with all personal care ADLs has been difficult.
Just the fact that so many people have to see me naked bothers me. I've always been self conscious and have had body imagine issues. My paralysis has not only made my body even more flawed, and less appealing, it also forces me into showing those flaws to numerous people (on a daily basis), over & over again. Its mortifying having to have someone else do stuff like brush my teeth, shave my under arms, clean my ears, help me blow my nose, acne, etc. I used to go to great lengths (as do most woman- doing my hair, make up, creams, shaving, plucking eye brows, getting manicures, exercise & diet) to look nice and to feel good about myself and feel as though I was pretty. It's not only embarrassing needing help with all personal hygiene needs, it also undermines my dignity and self worth. I'm forced into revealing every flaw and forced into having to ask for help, to look nice and correct imperfections, that under normal circumstances would be totally secret/private. It's all very challenging.
Like I've stated over, and over again, I'm just looking into all of my options. Living with paralysis has not been easy for me, and I'm tired of chronic sickness. This is not my first bout of serious depression, nor is it necessarily my last. Living with paralysis is a daily struggle. Choosing to fight to live the life that I have, is one of the few things that is still within my control. I will continue to do so for as long as I possibly can. I'm just the type of person that likes to think ahead, and take comfort in knowing that I'm in control of whatever aspects of my life that I CAN control. Paralysis has robbed me of almost all of my independence, so I'm forever seeking new ways to take back whatever control I can. My mind is one on the few assets I still have, and although it can at times be a curse (haunting memories and crippling grief) it has allowed me to be able to manage my own affairs and make decisions about my care, and overall quality of life. My mind continues to be the greatest source of pain, and although I realize that my perspective, way of thinking, and acceptance can change over time, I'm the only one that can make those changes. I struggle daily with the inner turmoil, of dealing with the life and choices paralysis gives me, and my sadness and desperate longing to have the type of life I once had. I realize it's a battle that only I can fight.
Last week I was chatting with an online buddy named Mariam about being so depressed lately. She's also a member of the AMFPA. We share a lot in common, in fact she's one of the few people on the planet that I feel like can truly understand where I'm coming from. We're around the same age, both artists and both suffer from similar spinal cord injuries. She's been injured for almost fifteen years now, and is one of those rare gems, in that she's somehow been able to keep it together, keep moving forward and find joy, despite being paralyzed. I had reached out to her, sending her a link to the CC thread, to get her point of view.
We had a long chat over Skype, and I really enjoyed our conversation. It always feels good to vent, but I particularly felt relieved talking with her, because I feel as though she really understands where I'm coming from, and has experienced much of the same struggles that I'm going through. She's amazingly positive and is seemingly much more open minded and receptive to going with the flow, and accepting her life with paralysis, much better than me. She'd probably agree with me, in saying that her current state of acceptance, and/or her strength and perseverance, as well as her current frame of mind, all took time, and that it might not make sense for me to beat myself up, for not being as strong as she is. She readily admitted to me, that living paralysis has also been a struggle for her, and that she also experienced a period of about two to three years (around her five year anniversary), where she was extremely depressed and in a similar dark state, that I'm currently experiencing. She was obviously, able to overcome it, and although she has her bad days, seems more well adjusted and happy with her life, living with paralysis, than I can ever imagine for myself, at this point.
During our discussion, I was expressing my wish for being understood, and how little I feel the average person really knows, what it's like to be paralyzed. I said I especially wished my loved ones understood how much I'm suffering, and how hard it is for me to live this way. Mariam then asked me, "What if they did understand? What difference would that make?" It was the first time anyone had ever asked me that, but I immediately knew the answer. I had to hold back tears to answer her, but managed to respond with a shaky voice, and tell her the answer that's been tugging at my heart and mind for a long time now. It's a two fold answer, that has been my driving force.
Firstly, I feel as though if people really understood what it's like to live a day in my shoes, they'd absolutely want to find a cure. I know in my heart, with 100% certainty, that anyone who could experience the grief, loss, fear, and sense of powerlessness that paralysis causes, that they'd want to fight with every ounce of energy they had to want to cure it. I feel as though, funding for research and emphasis on finding a cure to paralysis would take precedence and support would sky rocket, if more people really knew what it felt like to be paralyzed and to really comprehend how ethereal life is, and that their lives can change, as quickly as mine did, at any given moment. It is for this first reason that I pour my soul out to strangers and open my life up to the general public. As hard and as embarrassing as it can be at time, my goal is education. I want people to wake up, and understand what being paralyzed means.
Secondly, I feel as though if my loved ones truly understood my pain, and could experience all that I've been through, and all that I'm feeling, that they'd be able to let me go. This second part to the answer is what I told Mariam, and is what most often crosses my mind. I feel as though anyone that truly knew my pain, would be able to understand why I long to be free (by death, or by cure) and be at peace to let me go. I often think people expect me to keep marching forward, because they don't (and can't) know what they're really asking of me, and what a struggle it is every day. Although my loved ones might see my death as something horrible, and sad, I'm at a point where I'm tired of the daily battle and would welcome it. I just want to be free again. It doesn't mean I don't love my family and friends, and wouldn't miss them. They just don't understand how hard living can be. It's my hope that by sharing my thoughts and feelings I can help everyone (anyone who is willing to listen) to understand paralysis better and to motivate others to fight for a cure. Even if I never see a cure, I would feel at peace knowing I helped to prevent other people from ever having to experience all that I've been through, if I can inspire others to support finding a cure. Although I have little hope for a cure for myself, I do still wholeheartedly believe that a cure will be found some day. Again, I don't wish to upset anyone. I'm just being honest and sharing my thoughts, and where I'm at, right now in my struggle with paralysis.
Check out my buddy Mariam's website- I love her work!
www.mariampare.com
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
The number one, hardest aspect of living with paralysis for me is all of the highly intimate hygiene issues that I need help with. One of my biggest stressors is my bowel program (as itis for many people in my situation) and the only real alternative, would be to have a colostomy. This has been suggested to me, both recently and in the past. The thought of a colostomy bag is (to me) 1,000 times worst than BP. Just the thought of it depresses me. No offense, but it's definitely not for me Ideally, not having to go number two in the first place would be my solution. Unfortunately, that's not possible. The whole bodily fluid thing really disturbs me & grosses me out. I'd literally give up eating, if it meant I only had to deal with urine. As much as I love food, I gladly trade in a liquid diet, if it meant I could avoid needing to ever have a bowel movement. That's how much I hate the whole process, in general. I know it's a natural bodily function, that everyone does. I've just always been uptight about it. I guess you could say I'm somewhat "poopaphobic." I don't want to have to do it, or be around it, so the thought of having a bag of it strapped to me, is probably the worst case scenario I can think of. I've always been very private about bathroom & hygiene stuff, so being paralyzed is horrible. I find it disgusting and unladylike. I normaly would've never wanted to discuss it (and find it challenging to be so revealing), but feel it needs to be said, because the average has no clue, and would otherwise (and often does) take this fact for granted. I'm forced into having help with bathroom needs and it's never gotten any easier.
Sometimes I think being a woman, makes it even harder to accept & not be embarrassed. I don't know, but all my guy friends (able bodied & non) are way more easy going & less bothered by stuff like that. I mean let's put it this way, I dated someone for almost six years (also lived together for a portion of that time) and I never once passed gas in front of him. In the 24yrs I was on my feet I never once went number two in a public restroom. So you can imagine, having BP & a catheter is pretty much like hell on earth for me. Not to mention, as a woman, I have to also accept help every month with my period & other various feminine hygiene issues, that men just don't have. All in all, the adjustment to needing help with all personal care ADLs has been difficult.
Just the fact that so many people have to see me naked bothers me. I've always been self conscious and have had body imagine issues. My paralysis has not only made my body even more flawed, and less appealing, it also forces me into showing those flaws to numerous people (on a daily basis), over & over again. Its mortifying having to have someone else do stuff like brush my teeth, shave my under arms, clean my ears, help me blow my nose, acne, etc. I used to go to great lengths (as do most woman- doing my hair, make up, creams, shaving, plucking eye brows, getting manicures, exercise & diet) to look nice and to feel good about myself and feel as though I was pretty. It's not only embarrassing needing help with all personal hygiene needs, it also undermines my dignity and self worth. I'm forced into revealing every flaw and forced into having to ask for help, to look nice and correct imperfections, that under normal circumstances would be totally secret/private. It's all very challenging.
Like I've stated over, and over again, I'm just looking into all of my options. Living with paralysis has not been easy for me, and I'm tired of chronic sickness. This is not my first bout of serious depression, nor is it necessarily my last. Living with paralysis is a daily struggle. Choosing to fight to live the life that I have, is one of the few things that is still within my control. I will continue to do so for as long as I possibly can. I'm just the type of person that likes to think ahead, and take comfort in knowing that I'm in control of whatever aspects of my life that I CAN control. Paralysis has robbed me of almost all of my independence, so I'm forever seeking new ways to take back whatever control I can. My mind is one on the few assets I still have, and although it can at times be a curse (haunting memories and crippling grief) it has allowed me to be able to manage my own affairs and make decisions about my care, and overall quality of life. My mind continues to be the greatest source of pain, and although I realize that my perspective, way of thinking, and acceptance can change over time, I'm the only one that can make those changes. I struggle daily with the inner turmoil, of dealing with the life and choices paralysis gives me, and my sadness and desperate longing to have the type of life I once had. I realize it's a battle that only I can fight.
Last week I was chatting with an online buddy named Mariam about being so depressed lately. She's also a member of the AMFPA. We share a lot in common, in fact she's one of the few people on the planet that I feel like can truly understand where I'm coming from. We're around the same age, both artists and both suffer from similar spinal cord injuries. She's been injured for almost fifteen years now, and is one of those rare gems, in that she's somehow been able to keep it together, keep moving forward and find joy, despite being paralyzed. I had reached out to her, sending her a link to the CC thread, to get her point of view.
We had a long chat over Skype, and I really enjoyed our conversation. It always feels good to vent, but I particularly felt relieved talking with her, because I feel as though she really understands where I'm coming from, and has experienced much of the same struggles that I'm going through. She's amazingly positive and is seemingly much more open minded and receptive to going with the flow, and accepting her life with paralysis, much better than me. She'd probably agree with me, in saying that her current state of acceptance, and/or her strength and perseverance, as well as her current frame of mind, all took time, and that it might not make sense for me to beat myself up, for not being as strong as she is. She readily admitted to me, that living paralysis has also been a struggle for her, and that she also experienced a period of about two to three years (around her five year anniversary), where she was extremely depressed and in a similar dark state, that I'm currently experiencing. She was obviously, able to overcome it, and although she has her bad days, seems more well adjusted and happy with her life, living with paralysis, than I can ever imagine for myself, at this point.
During our discussion, I was expressing my wish for being understood, and how little I feel the average person really knows, what it's like to be paralyzed. I said I especially wished my loved ones understood how much I'm suffering, and how hard it is for me to live this way. Mariam then asked me, "What if they did understand? What difference would that make?" It was the first time anyone had ever asked me that, but I immediately knew the answer. I had to hold back tears to answer her, but managed to respond with a shaky voice, and tell her the answer that's been tugging at my heart and mind for a long time now. It's a two fold answer, that has been my driving force.
Firstly, I feel as though if people really understood what it's like to live a day in my shoes, they'd absolutely want to find a cure. I know in my heart, with 100% certainty, that anyone who could experience the grief, loss, fear, and sense of powerlessness that paralysis causes, that they'd want to fight with every ounce of energy they had to want to cure it. I feel as though, funding for research and emphasis on finding a cure to paralysis would take precedence and support would sky rocket, if more people really knew what it felt like to be paralyzed and to really comprehend how ethereal life is, and that their lives can change, as quickly as mine did, at any given moment. It is for this first reason that I pour my soul out to strangers and open my life up to the general public. As hard and as embarrassing as it can be at time, my goal is education. I want people to wake up, and understand what being paralyzed means.
Secondly, I feel as though if my loved ones truly understood my pain, and could experience all that I've been through, and all that I'm feeling, that they'd be able to let me go. This second part to the answer is what I told Mariam, and is what most often crosses my mind. I feel as though anyone that truly knew my pain, would be able to understand why I long to be free (by death, or by cure) and be at peace to let me go. I often think people expect me to keep marching forward, because they don't (and can't) know what they're really asking of me, and what a struggle it is every day. Although my loved ones might see my death as something horrible, and sad, I'm at a point where I'm tired of the daily battle and would welcome it. I just want to be free again. It doesn't mean I don't love my family and friends, and wouldn't miss them. They just don't understand how hard living can be. It's my hope that by sharing my thoughts and feelings I can help everyone (anyone who is willing to listen) to understand paralysis better and to motivate others to fight for a cure. Even if I never see a cure, I would feel at peace knowing I helped to prevent other people from ever having to experience all that I've been through, if I can inspire others to support finding a cure. Although I have little hope for a cure for myself, I do still wholeheartedly believe that a cure will be found some day. Again, I don't wish to upset anyone. I'm just being honest and sharing my thoughts, and where I'm at, right now in my struggle with paralysis.
Check out my buddy Mariam's website- I love her work!
www.mariampare.com
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
It's Hard Feeling Happy, When You're Feeling Sick.
As I mentioned in my last blog, I've been doing a lot of soul searching and actively seeking out answers to some tough questions. My state of mind is an ever changing battleground, where I find myself forever fighting to find reasons for why I'm suffering, and looking for motivation and purpose to keep moving forward. One of the biggest obstacles that makes living with paralysis such a struggle for me, is chronic illness and feeling physically sick. The near constant discomfort has left me feeling very worn down and has pushed me to examine my life very closely, and ask myself why I try so hard, despite my unhappiness, and if there are any solutions out there, and what all of my options are, regarding my life, as it is.
I recently discussed some of these questions with my doctor. He was kind of vague in his responses. He's a PA with a visiting physicians group. He sees me at home about once a month. Most of his patients are elderly. It gets frustrating at times (even when I go to the hospital) because most doctors (including mine) aren't specialized in dealing with spinal cord injuries. I feel like most of the time we're just playing a guessing game, trying to pin point why I'm feeling sick. Most of the time, I get told it's a UTI or possibly neurological. In other words, they don't really know for sure. Understandably, it's probably just as frustrating for them, because I can only tell them secondary symptoms (since I can't actually feel what's going on) like fever, chills, chest pressure, sweating, etc. Given the fact that I have a catheter, my urine specimens always come back positive for infection, so half the time I wonder if it's a UTI that's making me feel sick or something else. All we ever do is run tests, but never find anything concrete. Honestly, I don't know that a specialist could do much better. I'd just feel more confident if I had more access to doctors that had more experience dealing w/SCIs. The only place we really have in NJ for outpatient care is Kessler Rehab, which is an hour commute. It's just not worth going there, every time I feel sick.
Aside from the emotional trauma and dealing with an insane amount of loss, living with paralysis has been physically taxing as well. One of the biggest problems for me personally, is my ever diminishing tolerance for sitting in my chair. My ability to sit in my chair, be productive, go places (not that I'm often itching to go out) and do things, has gradually become more and more uncomfortable over the past couple of years. The discomfort and the chronic sickness has made it very hard for me to find joy in the things I used to. Ever since I had a bed sore (6cm wide and deep- at its worst- on my upper thigh, below my backside) back in '08 my tolerance for sitting just isn't the same. The first couple of years post accident I could comfortably be up in my chair for 8hrs a day, 7 days a week. Now, I get out of bed on bowel program days (which ends up being like 3 hours on a commode chair-for BP & my shower) and then spend the rest of the day in bed; sitting up in bed for an additional hour or so around dinner time. I try to get into my power chair on non BP days, but lately it all depends how I'm feeling. The thing is, I end up getting very uncomfortable in my chair after only sitting for a few hours. My symptoms vary, but it usually starts off with a clammy sensation, followed by weird tingling throughout my body, then further followed by a gradual pressure building up in my chest and/or abdomen. On top of that, I'm constantly dealing with leg spasms, phantom pain and tingling in my legs and feet. I end up asking my aides or family to check if my catheter is kinked, if my clothes are wrinkled, if Id had an episode of incontinence, or any other visible problem, and we almost always come up short.
I do periodically weight shift while I'm in my chair, and have only ever had two bedsores (one was on my elbow). Most of the time there's just no real rhyme or reason for why I start feeling symptomatic. The chest pressure gets really bad though. It feels like someone is filling me up with air and squeezing my sides all at the same time. I also start to get lethargic and feverish after about four hours of sitting. I've had various tests done to rule out serious heart or lung issues: blood works up, X-ray, CAT scan, sonogram & EKG. All of them came back fine. I take Prilosec OTC and have ruled out indigestion for the most part, because there's no obvious connection to meal times. I had a OBGYN exam to rule out anything on that end, nothing. Although, I have noticed a change in my cycle this last year, in the sense that around that week I feel worse than usual. During that week I'm usually achier, more tired and have more frequent fevers. All in all, it's been a vicious cycle, that has kept be bed bound most of the time. For whatever reason, the symptoms do subside a bit more when I'm lying down (not completely though). Knowing I'm going to feel uncomfortable makes me not want to bother getting up, which in turn lessens my tolerance for sitting up. It's a lose-lose situation. I'm just so tired of feeling nauseous, feverish, achy, and down right icky, 75% of the time. It's kind of like having the flu five days a week. It makes it very hard to be happy, or motivated, when you have the chills and feel discomfort.
I'm at my wits end. On one hand, I want to get up and be more productive. I end up feeling guilty and worthless for being in bed all the time. On the other hand, I legitimately feel sick, and lack the drive to do stuff and risk feeling worse. On BP days for example, I'm wiped by the time the nurse is gone, I'm showered and have eaten breakfast. Just sitting on the commode for three hours is taxing on my body, not to mention the constant stimulation the nurses have to do, to make me go to the bathroom. The whole process is both mentally and physically traumatic for me. It has also created hemorrhoids (how wonderful) that are directly irritated further by the entire process. I never had them before my accident, but I hear they are extremely painful. Although I can't feel the pain directly, it could be one of the contributing factors to my mystery symptoms and discomfort.
I end up chalking up a lot of my discomfort to autonomic dysreflexia, which is something many people with paralysis have to deal with. AD is the body's way of compensating for the fact that Ican't feel It is like nature's way of giving me a warning system. When there's something wrong, like my catheter being pulled, or an ingrown toenail, my body responds by elevating my blood pressure. The alleviation in blood pressure presents itself in different ways: chills, profuse sweating, muscle spams and throbbing headaches. If I start to feel symptomatic, I usually assume it's AD related and try to find the cause. If we do find a reason and fix the problem (such as repositioning me, or flushing the catheter) the symptoms subside almost immediately. Unfortunately, most of the time we don't find an obvious reason. So although I know my depression is a contributing factor to me being unmotivated and dissatisfied with my life, my reasons are not all in my head. My physical condition (aka-paralyzed) is the number one contributing factor to my depression, and my overall health and comfort has made it even harder to remain upbeat. Able bodied or not, no one likes being sick.
Having no real diagnosis or treatment for the chronic pressure, fevers (always low grade and always in the evening) and cold sweats makes me very frustrated and adds to my sense of hopelessness. As it is, I take over a dozen pills every day, and have the BP & catheter to contend with, all of which I absolutely hate. All of which, is unfortunately necessary to keep me alive, and relatively comfortable and healthy. The only problem is, it's obviously not working- at least not well enough. It's especially aggravating that I seem to be forever adding more pills and seeing few results. I take three different medication to help with depression, anxiety and insomnia (Pristiq, Remeron & Xanax). I take four different medications for my bowel & bladder related issues (Senekot, Colace, Detrol & Ditripan), on top of watching my diet. I watch my calorie intake and make sure to eat lots of fruits and/or veggies. Then there's the Prilosec, which is supposed to help with stomach issues and a multi-vitamin. It's bad enough being paralyzed, but feeling gross on top of that, just makes me want to curl up and sleep forever. It's like having a chronic illness, on top of a chronic condition. There's no cure in sight for my paralysis, and there's seemingly nothing to make me feel better. I wonder how many people with spinal cord injuries deal with similar problems. It's hard feeling like no one understands you and even harder feeling like there are no answers. I'm just stuck dealing with it; just like all the emotional pain.
Like I said, I've been feeling very down and tired of struggling so hard to cope with my situation, only to feel empty and sad. It's hard fighting for a life you hate living. That's why I started to seriously consider what it would mean to stop fighting. I mean, in terms of the physical and medical repercussions. It's not to say that I have already decided to stop trying. I'm literally just searching for answers. During these last five and a half years, few people have had any concrete answers to give me. There's no recipe for how to cope with having your life turned upside down over night, or how to deal with finding yourself complete stripped of yur independence. Everyone's situation and injury is different. The emotional scars and finding reasons to move forward have to be dealt with on your own terms. No one can say or do anything to make the emotional aspect of dealing with paralysis easier.
It's just infuriatingly frustrating when there's not any answers for the physical stuff. I get so angry sometimes. It seems so unfair that medical science has no cure; that they patched me up and sentenced me to live the life I have. It seems absurd and cruel to me at times, that my loved ones, doctors and nurses expect me to be happy, being paralyzed. It is not a high quality of life, no matter how you slice it; not to me. I feel I have the right to know all the options available to me, because at the end of the day, I'm the one living my life. I'm the one suffering, both physically and mentally. I'm the one that has to endure bowel programs, chronic aches, lack of privacy, cope with all of my memories and all of the loss. I never get a break from it. I never have the luxury of not thinking about it. I'm stuck, in every sense of the word.
I want to know what to expect if I were to say, enough is enough. What would happen if I stop having a bowel regime? What would that do, to a person in my condition? My doctor didn't really have an answer to that question. So I'm left wondering, who would have the answers? I'm not even sure who to ask, for some of my questions. That's why I've opened the subject up to general discussion. I figure there might be people out there who went through something similar with loved ones, or doctors, or nurses that have experience, working with people with paralysis and palliative care. My doctor thought I would qualify for hospice, if I decided to refuse nutrition, hydration and my treatments. He didn't know for sure. I'm wondering who would know. It's not as if I'm taking this matter lightly, and just saying I'm too sad, so I'm going to stop eating. I'm just curious to know exactly what my rights are and what to expect, from a medical perspective, if I chose not to sustain my life; if I decided to refuse help. In a way, I feel like everyone is tip-toeing around the answers, even if they know them, out of fear. It's as if people think the moment I have a few answers I'm going to die that very day. That's not the case. Surely, the thought of starving myself to death does not sound pleasant, and I'm in no rush to find out what it's like. I have looked into it though, as it is one of my only means of escape.
I've read up on the right to refuse nutrition and hydration. There is information based on eye witness accounts. For example, I read it's best not to intake any water at all, because it only prolongs the suffering. I read instead, you should just use a sponge to moisten the lips, to help alleviate the dryness, due to thirst and dehydration. I want answers, because if I really felt as though I absolutely had no will left to fight, I'd want to make my last days the most comfortable as possible. Refusing bowel program and what ever else, I'd decide to stop, would be careful decisions that I want to make based thinking things through and only ever as an absolute last resort.
I realize this might all seem morbid, and/or suicidal to the average healthy individual. The truth of the matter is, I have very little control over anything in my life and I've been hell and back. I know exactly what it's like to be on the brink of death. I've experienced being dependent on machines for life support. My life span is not that of the average person. I am not healthy. I know what it's like to feel like a burden and to have put family in the position to have to make life and death decisions for me. Therefore, I feel as though I both have to and want consider ALL of my options. I've already had to put my wishes down in writing, in my advanced directive, in case I'm unable to communicate my wants. I'm just at a place right now, where I want to know all my options, even if I decide to exercise while I still can communicate them. I mean, my living well basically already states everything I'm asking. I'm just wondering what I'd go through, and/or experience physically, based on medical experience and advice.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I recently discussed some of these questions with my doctor. He was kind of vague in his responses. He's a PA with a visiting physicians group. He sees me at home about once a month. Most of his patients are elderly. It gets frustrating at times (even when I go to the hospital) because most doctors (including mine) aren't specialized in dealing with spinal cord injuries. I feel like most of the time we're just playing a guessing game, trying to pin point why I'm feeling sick. Most of the time, I get told it's a UTI or possibly neurological. In other words, they don't really know for sure. Understandably, it's probably just as frustrating for them, because I can only tell them secondary symptoms (since I can't actually feel what's going on) like fever, chills, chest pressure, sweating, etc. Given the fact that I have a catheter, my urine specimens always come back positive for infection, so half the time I wonder if it's a UTI that's making me feel sick or something else. All we ever do is run tests, but never find anything concrete. Honestly, I don't know that a specialist could do much better. I'd just feel more confident if I had more access to doctors that had more experience dealing w/SCIs. The only place we really have in NJ for outpatient care is Kessler Rehab, which is an hour commute. It's just not worth going there, every time I feel sick.
Aside from the emotional trauma and dealing with an insane amount of loss, living with paralysis has been physically taxing as well. One of the biggest problems for me personally, is my ever diminishing tolerance for sitting in my chair. My ability to sit in my chair, be productive, go places (not that I'm often itching to go out) and do things, has gradually become more and more uncomfortable over the past couple of years. The discomfort and the chronic sickness has made it very hard for me to find joy in the things I used to. Ever since I had a bed sore (6cm wide and deep- at its worst- on my upper thigh, below my backside) back in '08 my tolerance for sitting just isn't the same. The first couple of years post accident I could comfortably be up in my chair for 8hrs a day, 7 days a week. Now, I get out of bed on bowel program days (which ends up being like 3 hours on a commode chair-for BP & my shower) and then spend the rest of the day in bed; sitting up in bed for an additional hour or so around dinner time. I try to get into my power chair on non BP days, but lately it all depends how I'm feeling. The thing is, I end up getting very uncomfortable in my chair after only sitting for a few hours. My symptoms vary, but it usually starts off with a clammy sensation, followed by weird tingling throughout my body, then further followed by a gradual pressure building up in my chest and/or abdomen. On top of that, I'm constantly dealing with leg spasms, phantom pain and tingling in my legs and feet. I end up asking my aides or family to check if my catheter is kinked, if my clothes are wrinkled, if Id had an episode of incontinence, or any other visible problem, and we almost always come up short.
I do periodically weight shift while I'm in my chair, and have only ever had two bedsores (one was on my elbow). Most of the time there's just no real rhyme or reason for why I start feeling symptomatic. The chest pressure gets really bad though. It feels like someone is filling me up with air and squeezing my sides all at the same time. I also start to get lethargic and feverish after about four hours of sitting. I've had various tests done to rule out serious heart or lung issues: blood works up, X-ray, CAT scan, sonogram & EKG. All of them came back fine. I take Prilosec OTC and have ruled out indigestion for the most part, because there's no obvious connection to meal times. I had a OBGYN exam to rule out anything on that end, nothing. Although, I have noticed a change in my cycle this last year, in the sense that around that week I feel worse than usual. During that week I'm usually achier, more tired and have more frequent fevers. All in all, it's been a vicious cycle, that has kept be bed bound most of the time. For whatever reason, the symptoms do subside a bit more when I'm lying down (not completely though). Knowing I'm going to feel uncomfortable makes me not want to bother getting up, which in turn lessens my tolerance for sitting up. It's a lose-lose situation. I'm just so tired of feeling nauseous, feverish, achy, and down right icky, 75% of the time. It's kind of like having the flu five days a week. It makes it very hard to be happy, or motivated, when you have the chills and feel discomfort.
I'm at my wits end. On one hand, I want to get up and be more productive. I end up feeling guilty and worthless for being in bed all the time. On the other hand, I legitimately feel sick, and lack the drive to do stuff and risk feeling worse. On BP days for example, I'm wiped by the time the nurse is gone, I'm showered and have eaten breakfast. Just sitting on the commode for three hours is taxing on my body, not to mention the constant stimulation the nurses have to do, to make me go to the bathroom. The whole process is both mentally and physically traumatic for me. It has also created hemorrhoids (how wonderful) that are directly irritated further by the entire process. I never had them before my accident, but I hear they are extremely painful. Although I can't feel the pain directly, it could be one of the contributing factors to my mystery symptoms and discomfort.
I end up chalking up a lot of my discomfort to autonomic dysreflexia, which is something many people with paralysis have to deal with. AD is the body's way of compensating for the fact that Ican't feel It is like nature's way of giving me a warning system. When there's something wrong, like my catheter being pulled, or an ingrown toenail, my body responds by elevating my blood pressure. The alleviation in blood pressure presents itself in different ways: chills, profuse sweating, muscle spams and throbbing headaches. If I start to feel symptomatic, I usually assume it's AD related and try to find the cause. If we do find a reason and fix the problem (such as repositioning me, or flushing the catheter) the symptoms subside almost immediately. Unfortunately, most of the time we don't find an obvious reason. So although I know my depression is a contributing factor to me being unmotivated and dissatisfied with my life, my reasons are not all in my head. My physical condition (aka-paralyzed) is the number one contributing factor to my depression, and my overall health and comfort has made it even harder to remain upbeat. Able bodied or not, no one likes being sick.
Having no real diagnosis or treatment for the chronic pressure, fevers (always low grade and always in the evening) and cold sweats makes me very frustrated and adds to my sense of hopelessness. As it is, I take over a dozen pills every day, and have the BP & catheter to contend with, all of which I absolutely hate. All of which, is unfortunately necessary to keep me alive, and relatively comfortable and healthy. The only problem is, it's obviously not working- at least not well enough. It's especially aggravating that I seem to be forever adding more pills and seeing few results. I take three different medication to help with depression, anxiety and insomnia (Pristiq, Remeron & Xanax). I take four different medications for my bowel & bladder related issues (Senekot, Colace, Detrol & Ditripan), on top of watching my diet. I watch my calorie intake and make sure to eat lots of fruits and/or veggies. Then there's the Prilosec, which is supposed to help with stomach issues and a multi-vitamin. It's bad enough being paralyzed, but feeling gross on top of that, just makes me want to curl up and sleep forever. It's like having a chronic illness, on top of a chronic condition. There's no cure in sight for my paralysis, and there's seemingly nothing to make me feel better. I wonder how many people with spinal cord injuries deal with similar problems. It's hard feeling like no one understands you and even harder feeling like there are no answers. I'm just stuck dealing with it; just like all the emotional pain.
Like I said, I've been feeling very down and tired of struggling so hard to cope with my situation, only to feel empty and sad. It's hard fighting for a life you hate living. That's why I started to seriously consider what it would mean to stop fighting. I mean, in terms of the physical and medical repercussions. It's not to say that I have already decided to stop trying. I'm literally just searching for answers. During these last five and a half years, few people have had any concrete answers to give me. There's no recipe for how to cope with having your life turned upside down over night, or how to deal with finding yourself complete stripped of yur independence. Everyone's situation and injury is different. The emotional scars and finding reasons to move forward have to be dealt with on your own terms. No one can say or do anything to make the emotional aspect of dealing with paralysis easier.
It's just infuriatingly frustrating when there's not any answers for the physical stuff. I get so angry sometimes. It seems so unfair that medical science has no cure; that they patched me up and sentenced me to live the life I have. It seems absurd and cruel to me at times, that my loved ones, doctors and nurses expect me to be happy, being paralyzed. It is not a high quality of life, no matter how you slice it; not to me. I feel I have the right to know all the options available to me, because at the end of the day, I'm the one living my life. I'm the one suffering, both physically and mentally. I'm the one that has to endure bowel programs, chronic aches, lack of privacy, cope with all of my memories and all of the loss. I never get a break from it. I never have the luxury of not thinking about it. I'm stuck, in every sense of the word.
I want to know what to expect if I were to say, enough is enough. What would happen if I stop having a bowel regime? What would that do, to a person in my condition? My doctor didn't really have an answer to that question. So I'm left wondering, who would have the answers? I'm not even sure who to ask, for some of my questions. That's why I've opened the subject up to general discussion. I figure there might be people out there who went through something similar with loved ones, or doctors, or nurses that have experience, working with people with paralysis and palliative care. My doctor thought I would qualify for hospice, if I decided to refuse nutrition, hydration and my treatments. He didn't know for sure. I'm wondering who would know. It's not as if I'm taking this matter lightly, and just saying I'm too sad, so I'm going to stop eating. I'm just curious to know exactly what my rights are and what to expect, from a medical perspective, if I chose not to sustain my life; if I decided to refuse help. In a way, I feel like everyone is tip-toeing around the answers, even if they know them, out of fear. It's as if people think the moment I have a few answers I'm going to die that very day. That's not the case. Surely, the thought of starving myself to death does not sound pleasant, and I'm in no rush to find out what it's like. I have looked into it though, as it is one of my only means of escape.
I've read up on the right to refuse nutrition and hydration. There is information based on eye witness accounts. For example, I read it's best not to intake any water at all, because it only prolongs the suffering. I read instead, you should just use a sponge to moisten the lips, to help alleviate the dryness, due to thirst and dehydration. I want answers, because if I really felt as though I absolutely had no will left to fight, I'd want to make my last days the most comfortable as possible. Refusing bowel program and what ever else, I'd decide to stop, would be careful decisions that I want to make based thinking things through and only ever as an absolute last resort.
I realize this might all seem morbid, and/or suicidal to the average healthy individual. The truth of the matter is, I have very little control over anything in my life and I've been hell and back. I know exactly what it's like to be on the brink of death. I've experienced being dependent on machines for life support. My life span is not that of the average person. I am not healthy. I know what it's like to feel like a burden and to have put family in the position to have to make life and death decisions for me. Therefore, I feel as though I both have to and want consider ALL of my options. I've already had to put my wishes down in writing, in my advanced directive, in case I'm unable to communicate my wants. I'm just at a place right now, where I want to know all my options, even if I decide to exercise while I still can communicate them. I mean, my living well basically already states everything I'm asking. I'm just wondering what I'd go through, and/or experience physically, based on medical experience and advice.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Questioning Life & My Options
I've come to a point in my life where I find myself at a crossroad. I’ve been struggling the last five and a half years living with paralysis. It’s impossible to truly express the emotional rollercoaster ride that I’ve been on, since June 2005. I’ve tried my best to be open, about my thoughts and feelings. I’ve tried very hard to convey the magnitude of loss that I sustained, due to my injury, as well as the hardships of living with paralysis on a daily basis. Despite my best efforts, I feel like the average person can never understand how much I’ve suffered and continue to suffer. Words alone, aren’t enough to garnish empathy; sympathy perhaps. Even the people closest to me, that witness all that I have to endure, can never know what it’s like to live in my shoes. Although I often seek advice from other people living with paralysis, the pool of people that have/are lived/living through what I have/am, is very small. There aren’t many women in their early thirties with high level, complete spinal cord injuries. Even those that are out there, everyone’s life before their injury and at the point of injury differ. It’s near impossible to find other women that were injured in their mid twenties, that also lost careers, relationships, and everything else in between. While I appreciate the input and advice I’ve been given by injured men, I feel a huge disconnect and feel very isolated and lonely. The few women I have met, that I do consider able to understand me, are mostly all struggling just as much as I am, to cope with the insane amount of loss and change that our injuries have left us with.
Paralysis is so unique a state of being, that many times the things I experience (sensations, or lack thereof) have no comparison to when I was on my feet. Unless you’ve lived through it, you have no idea what it’s like. Anything you imagine is pale in comparison to what it’s like to live with it. There is no way to simulate the lack of feeling, on such as scale as a high level spinal cord injury. I’m not just paralyzed, I’m imprisoned. I’m cut off from 85% of my body. I can only feel my head, neck, shoulders, some of my outer arm (only up to & not including the elbow) and half of my breasts (top half). It’s as if the rest of me no longer exists in certain respects, like outside touch, or stimulation. Unfortunately, I do feel phantom pains, pressure and discomfort, that has no real rhyme or reason, and usually has no medical diagnosis, or solution. There is no way to fully grasp how it feels to lose all sense of independence and dignity overnight. My spinal cord injury stole my ability to be self sufficient in a matter of seconds, and I’ve been wrestling with how to cope with the void left behind, for almost six years. My injury has left me feeling constantly vulnerable, anxious, depressed, full of regret, lost, deprived and scared. While I’ve tried my best to remain positive, despite the bleak reality that a cure is most likely never going to be a reality for me, I feel justified in feeling the way that I do. I’ve made proactive steps ever since day one, to stay as positive and as mentally strong as possible, so that I could somehow keep moving forward, against my inner dissatisfaction of my life and the compromises I’m forced into making every day. I’ve sought counseling, gone to therapy, take an ever growing number of pills (anti-depressants, sleep aides and anti-anxiety meds), share with my peers, write, paint, pray meditate, distraction, etc. and feel like I’m running on vapors and running out of options. I’ve been pushing forward more so for my loved ones, than for myself, and find it increasingly harder to find reason, and/or motivation to essentially keep torturing myself.
It’s maddeningly frustrating to feel like I constantly have to justify for why I feel so down. I get so angry inside and just want to scream sometimes, “are you blind?!” to those people who expect me to accept all that I’ve lost and just to keep moving on with a smile on my face. Most of the time I assume it’s ignorance that makes people have unrealistic expectations. Reality is, most people don’t have a clue what it’s like to be forced into (out of lack of choice) accepting help: to need another adult to bathe, feed, and dress you, to have no control over bodily functions, to need a bowel regime and catheter, to need another person’s help with intimate hygiene tasks, like mouth care, shaving and menstruation, to need help for the smallest and otherwise seemingly insignificant tasks like scratching and itch, or fixing a wrinkle in your clothing, almost total lack of privacy, to be devoid of sensations and cut off from almost all physical intimacy and near total deprivation of sexual pleasure. Is it right for people to expect me (and people in my similar situation) to keep living this way, knowing full well that no one would ever knowingly choose to live this way? I mean, when someone is newly injured there’s always the hope of a cure. Once an individual is medically stable, they’re pretty much stuck living with paralysis. Once reality really hits, and/or hope for a cure fades away, what choices are we left with? Do I really have a choice but to cope the best as I can? Is it right to impose such a harsh quality of life onto someone? At times, I wish I wouldn’t have had that initial hope; that I would’ve given up when death would’ve come easily. Instead, I fought (and continue) to live a compromised version of my old life. It just never seems to get any easier. In fact, coping has gotten progressively harder, and my hope for my old life has faded away. I’m nearly always sad and feel trapped, with few options.
Since my injury, I’ve thought long and hard about quality of life, and about death. I’ve had to. I’ve put my wishes down in my living will, and often wish I would’ve seriously considered what I deemed as quality, before my accident. If I had the living will I have now, at the time of my accident, I would’ve spared myself the last five and a half years of pain. After the trauma and sheer terror of my first year, post accident, I know for certain that I never want to live reliant on machines. I feel it’s bad enough to be completely reliant on people and medication, let alone needing a ventilator, or treatment like dialysis. I’ve been on a ventilator, completely paralyzed. It was a hell on earth that I never want to relive. As scary as death seems to me, it offers the hope of eternal life, or at the very least, an escape from the chronic sickness and emotional pain that I feel every day. Although, I have mixed feelings of sadness for my loved ones and fear, for myself, I find myself contemplating my own mortality on a daily basis. What options do I have? It’s not so easy as just saying, “I give up.” If that were the case, I’m sure many people that are living with paralysis would not be here. At this point, my future seems bleak and it’s hard to be in the dark state that I’m currently in.
There are like I said earlier, people out there that do have a better understanding of my situation, and are somehow able to surpass all of obstacles of paralysis and find happiness. So then I begin to wonder if I’m just weak, for not being able to find joy, and for being so unhappy. Of the people that I know that are living with paralysis, I can’t help but wonder how it is that some of them have continued to try moving forward for decades. I don’t want to live into my forties, if it means I’m still living in a chair. However, I find “giving up” takes perhaps more courage than just scraping by. What are my realist options? I have the right to refuse nutrition, hydration, medications and treatments. What does that really mean? I feel like a lot of my initial strength to fight to live, came out of ignorance and denial of what my life would be like. I’m at a point where I feel like I’m on the verge of going crazy, and I don’t want to choose to die out of ignorance either. The process I’d have to endure, in order to die, might be so unbearable that I might be tempted into backing out, and fight to live again. It’s a horribly sad thought that I’ve thought about many times. Understandably, most people don’t want to contemplate death, or indulge my suicidal tendencies, by giving me straight answers. Then again, up until recently, I was not seeking out specific answers.
I feel as though I’m battling myself, in finding reasons to keep moving forward. In the late hours of the night, I think about my life and the choices I’ve made. I beat myself up over regrets and find myself pleading and begging God to be merciful. Every night, for a long while, I’ve asked God (if he/she exists) to either cure me, or take me. Obviously, I’ve yet to get a response. I can’t help but wrestle with myself over morals and ethics. I wonder if giving up on relying on others is the same as taking my own life. The superstitious (or perhaps faith) part of me wants to know if God would consider refusal of help suicide, and what that would mean for my soul (if I have one). No one can give me concrete answers to those questions. All I know is that it is illegal for my loved ones, or medical professionals to assist me. Therefore, I can’t ask for an injection, or a handful of pills (a quick, peaceful death), without putting that person at criminal liability and/or horrible guilt. I know that if it were legal here (like in Switzerland) I could find it in myself to ask for help, but since it isn’t, I can’t and don’t expect anyone to ruin their own life, for the sake of ending mine. Therefore, my only real options are to refuse the treatments, medication and/or food and water that are keeping me alive. I am curious to know the medical repercussions of such a decision would be and what I’d have to endure, if I chose to exercise my rights. What kind of death would it be, to starve myself of food and water? How long would it take? What would happen if I refused to continue my bowel regime and/or stopped taking my medication? Would those decisions cause a lot of physical pain? Would I qualify for palliative care, like hospice? Would I be entitled to morphine, or something similar, to ease the pain and stress of hunger, impaction, and/or whatever discomforts that refusing those things would bring? What means would be the quickest, least painful way? I did ask my doctor some of these questions, but only got vague responses. I think that’s mostly because he wants me to keep on living, but also out of lack of knowledge. So I’m left wondering if I can find the answers, and if so where? Although part of me feels like a failure, or weak for considering death, I feel like I have the right to know the answers to these questions.
I hesitated to even post this, as I'm sure there are many that might not agree with, or condone this type of dialogue, or conversation. I also know that this blog will cause my loved ones pain. In fact, I posted this on the CareCure forums first (about a week ago), in hopes of connecting with other people with SCIs, and giving myself a chance to gather some feedback from people in similar situations. I stirred up a decent response, and have been continuing to reply to the ideas, and comments that people have shared with me.
I’m just looking for answers. I don’t expect anyone to advocate the thought of giving up on life. I understand that there are many people that are fine with their lives, and living with paralysis. I also expect that most anyone who reads this will probably try and dissuade me from taking drastic measures and offer me I pep talk. I’m not even saying that I am giving up. I just want to know what my options are, at this point in my life. I realize that I’m at a very low point; that’s precisely why I’m seeking help. I don’t want to feel miserable, but I am.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Paralysis is so unique a state of being, that many times the things I experience (sensations, or lack thereof) have no comparison to when I was on my feet. Unless you’ve lived through it, you have no idea what it’s like. Anything you imagine is pale in comparison to what it’s like to live with it. There is no way to simulate the lack of feeling, on such as scale as a high level spinal cord injury. I’m not just paralyzed, I’m imprisoned. I’m cut off from 85% of my body. I can only feel my head, neck, shoulders, some of my outer arm (only up to & not including the elbow) and half of my breasts (top half). It’s as if the rest of me no longer exists in certain respects, like outside touch, or stimulation. Unfortunately, I do feel phantom pains, pressure and discomfort, that has no real rhyme or reason, and usually has no medical diagnosis, or solution. There is no way to fully grasp how it feels to lose all sense of independence and dignity overnight. My spinal cord injury stole my ability to be self sufficient in a matter of seconds, and I’ve been wrestling with how to cope with the void left behind, for almost six years. My injury has left me feeling constantly vulnerable, anxious, depressed, full of regret, lost, deprived and scared. While I’ve tried my best to remain positive, despite the bleak reality that a cure is most likely never going to be a reality for me, I feel justified in feeling the way that I do. I’ve made proactive steps ever since day one, to stay as positive and as mentally strong as possible, so that I could somehow keep moving forward, against my inner dissatisfaction of my life and the compromises I’m forced into making every day. I’ve sought counseling, gone to therapy, take an ever growing number of pills (anti-depressants, sleep aides and anti-anxiety meds), share with my peers, write, paint, pray meditate, distraction, etc. and feel like I’m running on vapors and running out of options. I’ve been pushing forward more so for my loved ones, than for myself, and find it increasingly harder to find reason, and/or motivation to essentially keep torturing myself.
It’s maddeningly frustrating to feel like I constantly have to justify for why I feel so down. I get so angry inside and just want to scream sometimes, “are you blind?!” to those people who expect me to accept all that I’ve lost and just to keep moving on with a smile on my face. Most of the time I assume it’s ignorance that makes people have unrealistic expectations. Reality is, most people don’t have a clue what it’s like to be forced into (out of lack of choice) accepting help: to need another adult to bathe, feed, and dress you, to have no control over bodily functions, to need a bowel regime and catheter, to need another person’s help with intimate hygiene tasks, like mouth care, shaving and menstruation, to need help for the smallest and otherwise seemingly insignificant tasks like scratching and itch, or fixing a wrinkle in your clothing, almost total lack of privacy, to be devoid of sensations and cut off from almost all physical intimacy and near total deprivation of sexual pleasure. Is it right for people to expect me (and people in my similar situation) to keep living this way, knowing full well that no one would ever knowingly choose to live this way? I mean, when someone is newly injured there’s always the hope of a cure. Once an individual is medically stable, they’re pretty much stuck living with paralysis. Once reality really hits, and/or hope for a cure fades away, what choices are we left with? Do I really have a choice but to cope the best as I can? Is it right to impose such a harsh quality of life onto someone? At times, I wish I wouldn’t have had that initial hope; that I would’ve given up when death would’ve come easily. Instead, I fought (and continue) to live a compromised version of my old life. It just never seems to get any easier. In fact, coping has gotten progressively harder, and my hope for my old life has faded away. I’m nearly always sad and feel trapped, with few options.
Since my injury, I’ve thought long and hard about quality of life, and about death. I’ve had to. I’ve put my wishes down in my living will, and often wish I would’ve seriously considered what I deemed as quality, before my accident. If I had the living will I have now, at the time of my accident, I would’ve spared myself the last five and a half years of pain. After the trauma and sheer terror of my first year, post accident, I know for certain that I never want to live reliant on machines. I feel it’s bad enough to be completely reliant on people and medication, let alone needing a ventilator, or treatment like dialysis. I’ve been on a ventilator, completely paralyzed. It was a hell on earth that I never want to relive. As scary as death seems to me, it offers the hope of eternal life, or at the very least, an escape from the chronic sickness and emotional pain that I feel every day. Although, I have mixed feelings of sadness for my loved ones and fear, for myself, I find myself contemplating my own mortality on a daily basis. What options do I have? It’s not so easy as just saying, “I give up.” If that were the case, I’m sure many people that are living with paralysis would not be here. At this point, my future seems bleak and it’s hard to be in the dark state that I’m currently in.
There are like I said earlier, people out there that do have a better understanding of my situation, and are somehow able to surpass all of obstacles of paralysis and find happiness. So then I begin to wonder if I’m just weak, for not being able to find joy, and for being so unhappy. Of the people that I know that are living with paralysis, I can’t help but wonder how it is that some of them have continued to try moving forward for decades. I don’t want to live into my forties, if it means I’m still living in a chair. However, I find “giving up” takes perhaps more courage than just scraping by. What are my realist options? I have the right to refuse nutrition, hydration, medications and treatments. What does that really mean? I feel like a lot of my initial strength to fight to live, came out of ignorance and denial of what my life would be like. I’m at a point where I feel like I’m on the verge of going crazy, and I don’t want to choose to die out of ignorance either. The process I’d have to endure, in order to die, might be so unbearable that I might be tempted into backing out, and fight to live again. It’s a horribly sad thought that I’ve thought about many times. Understandably, most people don’t want to contemplate death, or indulge my suicidal tendencies, by giving me straight answers. Then again, up until recently, I was not seeking out specific answers.
I feel as though I’m battling myself, in finding reasons to keep moving forward. In the late hours of the night, I think about my life and the choices I’ve made. I beat myself up over regrets and find myself pleading and begging God to be merciful. Every night, for a long while, I’ve asked God (if he/she exists) to either cure me, or take me. Obviously, I’ve yet to get a response. I can’t help but wrestle with myself over morals and ethics. I wonder if giving up on relying on others is the same as taking my own life. The superstitious (or perhaps faith) part of me wants to know if God would consider refusal of help suicide, and what that would mean for my soul (if I have one). No one can give me concrete answers to those questions. All I know is that it is illegal for my loved ones, or medical professionals to assist me. Therefore, I can’t ask for an injection, or a handful of pills (a quick, peaceful death), without putting that person at criminal liability and/or horrible guilt. I know that if it were legal here (like in Switzerland) I could find it in myself to ask for help, but since it isn’t, I can’t and don’t expect anyone to ruin their own life, for the sake of ending mine. Therefore, my only real options are to refuse the treatments, medication and/or food and water that are keeping me alive. I am curious to know the medical repercussions of such a decision would be and what I’d have to endure, if I chose to exercise my rights. What kind of death would it be, to starve myself of food and water? How long would it take? What would happen if I refused to continue my bowel regime and/or stopped taking my medication? Would those decisions cause a lot of physical pain? Would I qualify for palliative care, like hospice? Would I be entitled to morphine, or something similar, to ease the pain and stress of hunger, impaction, and/or whatever discomforts that refusing those things would bring? What means would be the quickest, least painful way? I did ask my doctor some of these questions, but only got vague responses. I think that’s mostly because he wants me to keep on living, but also out of lack of knowledge. So I’m left wondering if I can find the answers, and if so where? Although part of me feels like a failure, or weak for considering death, I feel like I have the right to know the answers to these questions.
I hesitated to even post this, as I'm sure there are many that might not agree with, or condone this type of dialogue, or conversation. I also know that this blog will cause my loved ones pain. In fact, I posted this on the CareCure forums first (about a week ago), in hopes of connecting with other people with SCIs, and giving myself a chance to gather some feedback from people in similar situations. I stirred up a decent response, and have been continuing to reply to the ideas, and comments that people have shared with me.
I’m just looking for answers. I don’t expect anyone to advocate the thought of giving up on life. I understand that there are many people that are fine with their lives, and living with paralysis. I also expect that most anyone who reads this will probably try and dissuade me from taking drastic measures and offer me I pep talk. I’m not even saying that I am giving up. I just want to know what my options are, at this point in my life. I realize that I’m at a very low point; that’s precisely why I’m seeking help. I don’t want to feel miserable, but I am.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Haiku: Wish To Be Set Free
Prisoner within
Trapped inside my own body
Longing to escape
Deprived of feeling
Yearning for lost sensations
Overwhelming loss
Haunting memories
Wishing for my freedom back
Wanting to forget
Praying for a cure
Accepting reality
Confronting my fears
Robbed of privacy
Feeling like I'm a burden
Stolen dignity
Envious of all
Dreaming of the life I had
Plagued by jealousy
Stranger in my skin
Life will never be the same
Wish to be set free
Trapped inside my own body
Longing to escape
Deprived of feeling
Yearning for lost sensations
Overwhelming loss
Haunting memories
Wishing for my freedom back
Wanting to forget
Praying for a cure
Accepting reality
Confronting my fears
Robbed of privacy
Feeling like I'm a burden
Stolen dignity
Envious of all
Dreaming of the life I had
Plagued by jealousy
Stranger in my skin
Life will never be the same
Wish to be set free
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Not Good Enough
A poem (for lack of a better word. I don't exactly follow a set pattern or style. More like random thoughts...) I wrote a couple of months ago. I rather not go into detail on my thoughts behind it. Interpretation is up to you. Just thought I'd share:
Guess I wasn't good enough
Not enough to be your all
You've cut me deeper than you'll ever know
The pain runs through, down to my soul
I was holding on to a fantasy
All the while, you moved on
False hope
False words
Guess you were never who I thought you were
I just kept holding on
Don't know what I'd do if I were you
Things to good to be true
I was clinging to your memory
Seems I had things wrong
Broken promises
Broken dreams
Guess you were never mine
Thought all I needed was to do my time
The past pushed me on
Those illusions are all gone
You choose your path
My heart snaps
Lost love
Lost hope
Guess it's my fault for losing you
Don't know what I'm going to do
Blame myself for everything
Can't see what good the future brings
Bittersweet memories
Erase them from my mind
Impossible to stop
Impossible to run away
Guess I wasn't good enough
Not enough to be your all
You've cut me deeper than you'll ever know
The pain runs through, down to my soul
I was holding on to a fantasy
All the while, you moved on
False hope
False words
Guess you were never who I thought you were
I just kept holding on
Don't know what I'd do if I were you
Things to good to be true
I was clinging to your memory
Seems I had things wrong
Broken promises
Broken dreams
Guess you were never mine
Thought all I needed was to do my time
The past pushed me on
Those illusions are all gone
You choose your path
My heart snaps
Lost love
Lost hope
Guess it's my fault for losing you
Don't know what I'm going to do
Blame myself for everything
Can't see what good the future brings
Bittersweet memories
Erase them from my mind
Impossible to stop
Impossible to run away
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Regret & Forgiveness
I checked my website email account today and discovered a few new messages. One of the emails was from someone who had watched the episode of Soul Survivors that I did, on Youtube. He asked me if I often re-live (in my thoughts) the day of my accident and how I deal with regret. I thought they were great questions and want to share my response in the form of a blog, since I'm sure there are many other people out there that can relate.
Regret and forgiveness are two things I struggle with every day. I think the worst part about my accident (other than the consequences) is the fact that I did this to myself. I've experienced a lot of horrible things since that day. One of the worst things that happened right after my injury, was the fact that some of my closest friends and family made my situation worst for me, by arguing, accusing, blaming, judging and guilting me and one another. Everyone deals with grief and trauma differently and a lot of things that people in my life at the time, did and said, really shocked me. It is very true that people show their true colors, when you are at your lowest point. Some people soar and go above and beyond your wildest dreams and show you support and love you never expected. Other people shut down, close you out and disappoint you. The surprise comes in when people you've trusted your entire life let you down. They say love is unconditional, but I've learned that unfortunately, that is not always the case.
It has been incredibly hard for me to deal with all the loss and drastic changes that I've experienced. Many of the people that claim to love me, say it is sometimes equally painful (or so they think) for them, to see me suffer. The key difference is, I have no escape. I can't put my paralysis by the wayside when it gets too tough. I don't get to go back to my normal life or choose to remove myself from the situation. My family and friends have the choice to run from the situation, or at the very least, distance themselves, distract themselves or focus on other things. Some people might feel they're not strong enough to handle being in my life. For them, it is easier to dull the pain by turning a blind eye and remove themselves from the situation. At times, it upsets me, because I consider it selfish and cowardly. No matter how sad I am, how hard I try or desperate I might feel, I'm stuck. I either deal with it, or go mad. It's challenging to find strength, when people on the outside are not supportive. You can't help but think, "What's with them? They still have everything, just the same as before. They get to leave here and go on with there life." On the other hand, I suppose it's not fair of me to expect other people to put themselves through discomfort or drama, on my behalf. My family situation is tangled and broken, and added to the difficulty of my situation. My parents divorced when I was a baby and I've bounced back & forth between two families my entire life. The animosity and tension amongst my two families bubbled over after my injury and added a ton of extra stress and pain to my already horrible situation. Despite all the tears, anger and hurtful words, I've been able to forgive everyone, except myself. I guess this stems from the fact that I love my family and friends, but hate myself. It is easy to forgive someone you love, despite how much they hurt you; at least it is for me.
I've never had terriffic self esteem. I've always been hard on myself and much more critical of my own flaws, than the flaws of others. I think the perfectionist in me helped me to achieve a ton of positive things in my life, but it has certainly added anxiety and stress as well. It's very hard for me to be totally satisfied with what I do. I'm not competitive by nature, with other people, but I'm constantly striving to fit the vision inside my head (of myself, goals and aspirations). I've always pushed myself to strive for really high goals and try hard to achieve them. However, I managed to unravel all my hard and shatter my dreams in the matter of seconds. I destroyed everything I worked for with one very stupid mistake. The fact that my mistake seems so obviously idiotic, makes it all the harder to deal with and admit to the fact. Although a lot of people have told me I've made them proud (in how I've dealt with my paralysis), I'm a disappointment to myself.
I don't have any answers for myself, as to why I did what I did. Perhaps, if I had had some sort of plan in mind (like trying to do a shallow dive) and botched it, at least I'd be able to look at it as just being a mistake. However, I have no logical answer and I don't remember any specific intentions. I just dove in, blindly, without thinking. The frustrating part of it all, is that I never dove (as an adult). Swimming was one of the very few physical activities I enjoyed and looked forward to each year. I'd been swimming almost as long as I'd been walking. My family had above ground pools throughout my entire childhood and I was familiar with pool from my accident. I also had regular access (community pool and family) to in-ground pools growing up and as an adult. The last time I can remember ever diving head first into a pool, would've been before the age of eleven. I attended a pool party around that age, which turned me off from diving. Nothing particularly drastic happened at that party, I just recall it being the first time I felt afraid or thought I might hurt myself swimming. I vividly remember climbing the ladder to the high dive board, walking to the edge of the board, preparing to dive and chickening out last minute, to the annoyance of everyone behind me. I can't remember if I was forced to jump in, or if I climbed back down the ladder, but I never attempted a dive again, until the night of my accident.
I normally liked to jump into pools feet first or cannon ball style. The thought of getting accustomed to the water temperature inch, by inch, does not appeal to me. I much rather just take the plunge and be done with it all at once. I know I was feeling lazy the night of the accident and climbing up onto the side of the pool seemed the fastest way into the water. It would be no surprise to me if I would've chosen to jump into the pool, feet first and had broken my leg, stubbed my toes, or banged up my feet. That would make sense. That would sound like me. Diving in, head first, into sixty inches of water makes no sense and doesn't mesh with my character.
For a long time I beat myself up over the fact that I had been drinking that night. Those guilty (guilty of what, I'm not sure) feelings were only exacerbated by the blame and shame that was drilled into me, over and over again, during the first weeks after my accident. At my weakest point, my mistake was thrown back at me, time and time again and the story became exagerated and distorted. I was experiencing fevers 106 degrees and above, hallucinated and heavily drugged. I was living off of machines and was close to death. Despite all that was happening, I had to endure (some) my loved ones telling me how foolish I was and picking at every little flaw I had. I can remember feeling like dirt, here I was, beating myself up more than anyone, fighting to live, and yet certain people felt it necessary to make me feel worst. Aspects of my life were blown out of proportion and lies were made. I was weak, with cloudy thoughts and the desperation of not knowing what my life was going to be like. My loved ones were fighting and all I could do at that point was cry and try to make it seem like it would ok. I really believed that if I tried hard enough, I could heal myself and make up for my dumb mistake. Looking back, it all makes me very angry. I'm angry at myself, for not being stronger to stand my ground and be more in control of the situation, but at the time, my life had just dissolved in front of me and all I could think about was making it all right again.
Naturally, I think I'll always wonder how much the alcohol contributed to my decisions that night. I'll always wonder if those drinks influenced me to dive. I certainly wasn't falling down drunk, nor had I really felt drunk at the time. However from the minute I can remember waking up in the ER, that became the focus point of it all. The alcohol became the scapegoat as to why I dove and the guilt just piled on and on. It's only recently that I've forgiven myself a tiny bit over the fact that I had drank. At the time, I was twenty-four years old. I had bought my own drinks and had no intention of driving home that night. I only had had a few, and was obviously coordinated enough to scale the side of the pool and balance myself on top of the rim. It apparently had seemed shocking to some (obvious by their reactions), that a twenty four year old teacher might like to relax with friends and drink on the weekends. At the time, I let that guilt and shame eat away at me. Fortunately for my sanity, I've since realized that I was not an anomaly. Even now (pushing thirty), tons of my hardworking, educated, professional friends enjoy drinks on the weekends, have parties with friends and enjoy going out. I'm not exactly sure why I was made to feel like an ax murderer, for having a few drinks, but I was. I was balancing a lot of things that year and did stretch myself too thin at times, but that's hardly a crime. I take comfort in the fact that I know I had my life on track (it's easy to judge, when you only see one piece of the puzzle) and had accomplished a lot of things in my life that I'm still proud of. I no longer feel wrong for drinking, however much or little. I could sit here all day and list specific regrets for that day (changing our plans, going to the party, planning to swim, drinking, diving), but it's only because it's in hindsight and because of the overall consequence of the chain of events. I regret drinking because I'll always have that doubt over what role it played that night. I haven't had a sip of liquor since and made a promise to myself to never drink again; not because it's wrong or evil, but because I don't want to ever feel like I'm not 100% in control of my thoughts and decision making.
Drinking is just one of many regretful decisions I made that day. However, I only regret them because of what happened. Any other time, I wouldn't have regretted planning to swim; I'd swum at night before. I wouldn't normally regret the fact that we (me and my ex-boyfriend) had decided to go to the party last minute, instead of just staying home. I'd been swimming a million times before, had drank alcohol and had been to plenty of parties before that night, and had had a fun time and life continued on as usual. I'm sure millions of Americans will enjoy barbecues, drinking and swimming this summer without a problem. In fact, millions of people will do extremely risky things, like ride motorcycles, extreme sports, cliff diving, jump on trampolines, or just silly stunts for fun, and they will get hurt and walk away. Then there's the few thousand people that will get hurt and never walk again. For what ever reason, I was one of those thousand people, in the summer of 2005.
Since my injury, I see the world from an entirely different perspective. I see things on tv or when I go out, that make me cringe, because I know how close that person was to ending up like me. I watch shows like "World's Dumbest...Videos" and I'm just flabbergasted by the things I see people do on purpose and with a specific intent (One example, is a man sets a ladder up against his neighbor's tree, attempts to jump over his fence and land on his pool cover, but gets his foot caught on a rung on the way down and falls on the cement. Another example, is a boy that decided to ride his bicycle off the roof of his house, into a pile of snow down below.) and not only survive, but get up and walk away. At times, it makes me frustrated and angry when I see people do something similar to me or worst, and nothing happens. In fact, in the typical irony to my life, I watched (and recorded) a commercial the other day for Branchburg Pools, in which the salesman dives head first into a similar above ground pool and pops right back up to continue his sales pitch. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to see the other people paralyzed; I just can't help but think, "Why I am so different? Why didn't I pop back up? Why couldn't I walk away?" I certainly can't answer those questions, nor can anyone else.
Having no answers as to why I chose to do what I did, or reason as to why I have to pay such a high price, is extremely difficult to deal with. Given the fact that I was the one that ultimately dove (regardless of any outside contributing factors) into the pool, makes it near impossible to forgive myself. Especially given the fact, that I was an experienced swimmer and have no clear explanation as to what I was trying to do. Did I think I could shallow dive the length of the pool? Did I miscalculate the depth, because I couldn't see the bottom clearly? I'll never know for sure, but I will always regret the choice. The next question is, how do you forgive someone that ruined your life (stole your freedom, took your independence, robbed you of relationships, ended your career and in essence, killed a part of you.)? More importantly, what if you are that person? It's been five years, and I've yet to come up with any solutions. I just continue to try to do the best I can.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Regret and forgiveness are two things I struggle with every day. I think the worst part about my accident (other than the consequences) is the fact that I did this to myself. I've experienced a lot of horrible things since that day. One of the worst things that happened right after my injury, was the fact that some of my closest friends and family made my situation worst for me, by arguing, accusing, blaming, judging and guilting me and one another. Everyone deals with grief and trauma differently and a lot of things that people in my life at the time, did and said, really shocked me. It is very true that people show their true colors, when you are at your lowest point. Some people soar and go above and beyond your wildest dreams and show you support and love you never expected. Other people shut down, close you out and disappoint you. The surprise comes in when people you've trusted your entire life let you down. They say love is unconditional, but I've learned that unfortunately, that is not always the case.
It has been incredibly hard for me to deal with all the loss and drastic changes that I've experienced. Many of the people that claim to love me, say it is sometimes equally painful (or so they think) for them, to see me suffer. The key difference is, I have no escape. I can't put my paralysis by the wayside when it gets too tough. I don't get to go back to my normal life or choose to remove myself from the situation. My family and friends have the choice to run from the situation, or at the very least, distance themselves, distract themselves or focus on other things. Some people might feel they're not strong enough to handle being in my life. For them, it is easier to dull the pain by turning a blind eye and remove themselves from the situation. At times, it upsets me, because I consider it selfish and cowardly. No matter how sad I am, how hard I try or desperate I might feel, I'm stuck. I either deal with it, or go mad. It's challenging to find strength, when people on the outside are not supportive. You can't help but think, "What's with them? They still have everything, just the same as before. They get to leave here and go on with there life." On the other hand, I suppose it's not fair of me to expect other people to put themselves through discomfort or drama, on my behalf. My family situation is tangled and broken, and added to the difficulty of my situation. My parents divorced when I was a baby and I've bounced back & forth between two families my entire life. The animosity and tension amongst my two families bubbled over after my injury and added a ton of extra stress and pain to my already horrible situation. Despite all the tears, anger and hurtful words, I've been able to forgive everyone, except myself. I guess this stems from the fact that I love my family and friends, but hate myself. It is easy to forgive someone you love, despite how much they hurt you; at least it is for me.
I've never had terriffic self esteem. I've always been hard on myself and much more critical of my own flaws, than the flaws of others. I think the perfectionist in me helped me to achieve a ton of positive things in my life, but it has certainly added anxiety and stress as well. It's very hard for me to be totally satisfied with what I do. I'm not competitive by nature, with other people, but I'm constantly striving to fit the vision inside my head (of myself, goals and aspirations). I've always pushed myself to strive for really high goals and try hard to achieve them. However, I managed to unravel all my hard and shatter my dreams in the matter of seconds. I destroyed everything I worked for with one very stupid mistake. The fact that my mistake seems so obviously idiotic, makes it all the harder to deal with and admit to the fact. Although a lot of people have told me I've made them proud (in how I've dealt with my paralysis), I'm a disappointment to myself.
I don't have any answers for myself, as to why I did what I did. Perhaps, if I had had some sort of plan in mind (like trying to do a shallow dive) and botched it, at least I'd be able to look at it as just being a mistake. However, I have no logical answer and I don't remember any specific intentions. I just dove in, blindly, without thinking. The frustrating part of it all, is that I never dove (as an adult). Swimming was one of the very few physical activities I enjoyed and looked forward to each year. I'd been swimming almost as long as I'd been walking. My family had above ground pools throughout my entire childhood and I was familiar with pool from my accident. I also had regular access (community pool and family) to in-ground pools growing up and as an adult. The last time I can remember ever diving head first into a pool, would've been before the age of eleven. I attended a pool party around that age, which turned me off from diving. Nothing particularly drastic happened at that party, I just recall it being the first time I felt afraid or thought I might hurt myself swimming. I vividly remember climbing the ladder to the high dive board, walking to the edge of the board, preparing to dive and chickening out last minute, to the annoyance of everyone behind me. I can't remember if I was forced to jump in, or if I climbed back down the ladder, but I never attempted a dive again, until the night of my accident.
I normally liked to jump into pools feet first or cannon ball style. The thought of getting accustomed to the water temperature inch, by inch, does not appeal to me. I much rather just take the plunge and be done with it all at once. I know I was feeling lazy the night of the accident and climbing up onto the side of the pool seemed the fastest way into the water. It would be no surprise to me if I would've chosen to jump into the pool, feet first and had broken my leg, stubbed my toes, or banged up my feet. That would make sense. That would sound like me. Diving in, head first, into sixty inches of water makes no sense and doesn't mesh with my character.
For a long time I beat myself up over the fact that I had been drinking that night. Those guilty (guilty of what, I'm not sure) feelings were only exacerbated by the blame and shame that was drilled into me, over and over again, during the first weeks after my accident. At my weakest point, my mistake was thrown back at me, time and time again and the story became exagerated and distorted. I was experiencing fevers 106 degrees and above, hallucinated and heavily drugged. I was living off of machines and was close to death. Despite all that was happening, I had to endure (some) my loved ones telling me how foolish I was and picking at every little flaw I had. I can remember feeling like dirt, here I was, beating myself up more than anyone, fighting to live, and yet certain people felt it necessary to make me feel worst. Aspects of my life were blown out of proportion and lies were made. I was weak, with cloudy thoughts and the desperation of not knowing what my life was going to be like. My loved ones were fighting and all I could do at that point was cry and try to make it seem like it would ok. I really believed that if I tried hard enough, I could heal myself and make up for my dumb mistake. Looking back, it all makes me very angry. I'm angry at myself, for not being stronger to stand my ground and be more in control of the situation, but at the time, my life had just dissolved in front of me and all I could think about was making it all right again.
Naturally, I think I'll always wonder how much the alcohol contributed to my decisions that night. I'll always wonder if those drinks influenced me to dive. I certainly wasn't falling down drunk, nor had I really felt drunk at the time. However from the minute I can remember waking up in the ER, that became the focus point of it all. The alcohol became the scapegoat as to why I dove and the guilt just piled on and on. It's only recently that I've forgiven myself a tiny bit over the fact that I had drank. At the time, I was twenty-four years old. I had bought my own drinks and had no intention of driving home that night. I only had had a few, and was obviously coordinated enough to scale the side of the pool and balance myself on top of the rim. It apparently had seemed shocking to some (obvious by their reactions), that a twenty four year old teacher might like to relax with friends and drink on the weekends. At the time, I let that guilt and shame eat away at me. Fortunately for my sanity, I've since realized that I was not an anomaly. Even now (pushing thirty), tons of my hardworking, educated, professional friends enjoy drinks on the weekends, have parties with friends and enjoy going out. I'm not exactly sure why I was made to feel like an ax murderer, for having a few drinks, but I was. I was balancing a lot of things that year and did stretch myself too thin at times, but that's hardly a crime. I take comfort in the fact that I know I had my life on track (it's easy to judge, when you only see one piece of the puzzle) and had accomplished a lot of things in my life that I'm still proud of. I no longer feel wrong for drinking, however much or little. I could sit here all day and list specific regrets for that day (changing our plans, going to the party, planning to swim, drinking, diving), but it's only because it's in hindsight and because of the overall consequence of the chain of events. I regret drinking because I'll always have that doubt over what role it played that night. I haven't had a sip of liquor since and made a promise to myself to never drink again; not because it's wrong or evil, but because I don't want to ever feel like I'm not 100% in control of my thoughts and decision making.
Drinking is just one of many regretful decisions I made that day. However, I only regret them because of what happened. Any other time, I wouldn't have regretted planning to swim; I'd swum at night before. I wouldn't normally regret the fact that we (me and my ex-boyfriend) had decided to go to the party last minute, instead of just staying home. I'd been swimming a million times before, had drank alcohol and had been to plenty of parties before that night, and had had a fun time and life continued on as usual. I'm sure millions of Americans will enjoy barbecues, drinking and swimming this summer without a problem. In fact, millions of people will do extremely risky things, like ride motorcycles, extreme sports, cliff diving, jump on trampolines, or just silly stunts for fun, and they will get hurt and walk away. Then there's the few thousand people that will get hurt and never walk again. For what ever reason, I was one of those thousand people, in the summer of 2005.
Since my injury, I see the world from an entirely different perspective. I see things on tv or when I go out, that make me cringe, because I know how close that person was to ending up like me. I watch shows like "World's Dumbest...Videos" and I'm just flabbergasted by the things I see people do on purpose and with a specific intent (One example, is a man sets a ladder up against his neighbor's tree, attempts to jump over his fence and land on his pool cover, but gets his foot caught on a rung on the way down and falls on the cement. Another example, is a boy that decided to ride his bicycle off the roof of his house, into a pile of snow down below.) and not only survive, but get up and walk away. At times, it makes me frustrated and angry when I see people do something similar to me or worst, and nothing happens. In fact, in the typical irony to my life, I watched (and recorded) a commercial the other day for Branchburg Pools, in which the salesman dives head first into a similar above ground pool and pops right back up to continue his sales pitch. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to see the other people paralyzed; I just can't help but think, "Why I am so different? Why didn't I pop back up? Why couldn't I walk away?" I certainly can't answer those questions, nor can anyone else.
Having no answers as to why I chose to do what I did, or reason as to why I have to pay such a high price, is extremely difficult to deal with. Given the fact that I was the one that ultimately dove (regardless of any outside contributing factors) into the pool, makes it near impossible to forgive myself. Especially given the fact, that I was an experienced swimmer and have no clear explanation as to what I was trying to do. Did I think I could shallow dive the length of the pool? Did I miscalculate the depth, because I couldn't see the bottom clearly? I'll never know for sure, but I will always regret the choice. The next question is, how do you forgive someone that ruined your life (stole your freedom, took your independence, robbed you of relationships, ended your career and in essence, killed a part of you.)? More importantly, what if you are that person? It's been five years, and I've yet to come up with any solutions. I just continue to try to do the best I can.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Acceptance
I often read posts from the Care Cure & Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation forums. Both websites are dedicated to spinal cord injury and paralysis awareness and research towards finding a cure. Both websites also have active online communities of people living with paralysis, caregivers and medical & mental health professionals. It's helpful to be able to read how other people deal with paralysis and know that there are other people that can understand your situation. I contribute my opinion, information and advice from time to time. I'd encourage anyone effected by paralysis to check out both websites.
The other day a person with a C6-C7 injury posted a question that caught my attention. This person was injured nine months ago, and wanted to know how other people cope with their injuries. Specifically, he asked, "those of you that are years out, when did you (if you did) come to terms with your new self? How long did it take for the emotional pain to subside?"
I didn't really ask myself this question until much later in my "recovery." I think I was in complete denial that I wouldn't "get better" for at least a year after my accident. Even now, a part of me wants to reject my "new self." Acknowledging this is it, means admitting that I won't ever get better. That is a hard pill to swallow. My way of "coming to terms" with reality is to essentially grieve for myself. I grieve over the loss of the "old Christina" and try to make the best out of the "Christina" that was left behind. That might sound bizarre to some people, but when every aspect of your life is turned completely upside down, you can't help but feel a sharp divide. One day you're independent, the next day you're dependent. The easiest way for me to deal with my life now, is to not constantly harbor on the past. That life is gone.
I decided to respond to the question about acceptance, because it is something I'm still struggling over today. I'm not so sure I want to accept this life. Here is what I wrote:
I think "acceptance" might not mean the same thing to everyone. When I think of that word, I always think of validation and surrender. On one hand, I acknowledge the fact that my life has changed (C5 complete, 6/5/05) and I recognize that the chances of me ever being "cured" are slim, to none. On the other hand, I will never be satisfied with this life and will fight to change as much as I can. A lot of people use the word acceptance to express being at peace with their situation or the fact that they have given up hope for anything better.
I'm a realist, so I know I'll probably spend the rest of my life in a chair. However, I feel like the moment I accept that this is it, that I'd be giving up hope. Without hope, I'd have no reason to try to keep moving forward. We've been dealt a really crap luck hand of cards and no matter how you look at it, it's always going to be crap, unless something changes. We can choose to do what we can to improve the situation we've been handed and make the best of it, or we can just accept it for what it is and leave it at that. If you accept someone, or something, you are essentially saying, "you/it are/is fine the way it are/is." Some people have learned how to accept their injuries and still move forward (reality is, life moves forward with, or without you) and are content. I will never be content living with paralysis.
It's horrible, what we go through and how we have to live. I wouldn't wish paralysis on anyone. Every adult human being should have the basic freedom of being able to care for themselves and privacy, for modesty. Paralysis steals both of those basic human rights, in addition to the pain & suffering due to all the other aspects of life that change or are lost altogether (physical talents, careers, material possessions, dreams, intimacy, life without medication, relationships, etc.).
No one should have to endure all of the loss and suffering that paralysis can cause. I can understand and accept losing abilities or senses gradually, with age. There are a lot of elderly people that require assistance, but the difference is that they were fortunate enough to live full, "normal" lives. If I were eighty or ninety years old, I'd be able to accept needing help. It's natural to lose or experience a decline in abilities, strengths and senses as part of aging, and getting older. Paralysis is so awful because it steals all that and more, in the matter of seconds. People that suffer a spinal cord injury aren't given a lifetime to deal with gradual change. Paralysis forces you to cope with a lifetime's worth of loss (not even, because there are tons of relatively healthy people in the eighties and up) overnight and robs you of the future you planned.
Another one of the worst aspects of spinal cord injuries is that they are completely random. There are no genetic markers, family history or warning symptoms to an injury. Anyone can get injured at any time and the results/recovery are often just as unpredictable a the injury itself. There is no full proof way to avoid injury and everybody's spinal cord injury is entirely unique to their physiology and the exact way they are injured. In fact, I'm always reminded of this man Gene, that was in rehab with me, at Kessler. Gene had been a fire fighter in NYC. One night, he and five other fire fighters were forced to jump out of a five story building (or be burnt to death). Two of those men died at the scene, while four survived. Obviously, Gene was among the four survivors. He was the last of his group to leave rehab after having survived the fifty foot plus fall, a coma and about eight months of therapy. On his last day of therapy, Gene walked out of Kessler with a cane.I can remember watching him leave, in disbelief. I recall feeling happy for him and jealous of him at the same time. It made no sense to me, how a man could walk after falling five stories and yet, doctors were telling me it was impossible for me to do the same. Contrarily to Gene, I broke my neck in a failed attempt to shallow dive in a swimming pool. I dove from about five and a half feet off the ground. I only spent three months at Kessler and left in a head controlled wheelchair. There is no rhyme or reason when it comes to spinal cord injuries. That is why I feel it is so important to teach people about paralysis. People need to understand how difficult it is to live with paralysis and recognize the fact that they can be injured just as easily, and unpredictably as we were.
It's insanely frustrating that doctors (the scientific community as a whole) still have little to offer in terms of a cure or recovery. It makes me angry and sad to know that right now, someone could be getting injured and doctors won't be able to help that person, any more than they helped me five years ago. It's sometimes baffling to me how far humanity has come and yet, we still have failed to figure out all there is to know about our own bodies. You can't help but want to lash out, at times, over how absurd it all seems and how messed up our priorities seem to be. Scientists say a cure is possible. Since I've been injured, I've heard and read the magic time span of five to ten years, over and over again. Unfortunately, people with injuries decades older than mine have been hearing, hoping and waiting for the same results, for much longer. It makes me sick when I hear researchers say it's just a matter of funding and policies (keep in mind, every country has it's own set of priorities and regulations).The thought that I could be cured (or that I might have never had to endure all that I have the past five years) if it weren't for lack of money and support, makes me want to scream.
At times, I get so fed up and just wish there was someone to give me answers. It all seems so unfair and hard to understand why more isn't being done. Research towards understanding and repairing the central nervous system is promising and on-going, but moving at a snail's pace. Our spinal cord and brains are the most important parts of our body (also extremely complex) and unlocking the keys to repairing damage, would have huge practical applications and alleviate tremendous suffering (even save on spending, in the long run). So why is it that we spend more money on detrimental things, like war and oil? How can our government thinks it's ok to invest billions of dollars to search for microbes in space, while he have millions of people suffering here on Earth? Many of the world's brightest minds are focused on questions of curiosity, versus questions of necessity. While fascinating, I fail to see what practical information that (most of) our space program can hope to provide. It seems like common sense, that humanity would want to understand all there is to know about ourselves, before wasting brainpower and time on other topics.
Sometimes I wonder if our society is the way it is, due to ignorance. Logic tells me that our priorities as a country, stem mostly from greed and selfishness. I think the rest of society just doesn't think about something, unless it effects them personally, or it's constantly in their face. So often I feel like people need to be hit over the head, before they'll pay attention. The majority of people are so self absorbed that it's hard for them to see the bigger picture. I always joke that its as if I see the world through a pair of one hundred year old eyes. Before my accident, I was guilty of being caught up in material things and had a totally different perspective on life. I stressed over stupid, insignificant things and didn't realize how blessed I was. I'd like to think of myself as a kind, helpful person, but before my accident, there was a lot of wonderful things I took for granted. In general, people need to be reminded and need some kind of emotional connection to really care about and support a cause. The out pour of aide and money that went to Haiti the first few weeks after their horrific earthquake is one example, of the potential support people are willing to give, if it touches their heart.
Right now, the support for paralysis research is not enough, especially when you look at diseases like AIDS and Cancer, and compare the amount of support that is generated for those illnesses. I think it's our job (for our own sake as well as others) to be out there, reminding people and/or teaching people about paralysis. It shouldn't have to take a celebrity to raise awareness. Part of the problem is that not enough people are exposed to disabilities, know someone with a severe disability or realize how quickly their life can change. I believe if more people really understood what paralysis is like, that there would be more support towards finding a cure. Naturally, a cure to paralysis would mean wiping out a ton of diseases and disabilities(ALS, MS, MD, Parkinson's, CP, etc.), and would effect millions more than just people with spinal cord injuries.
I can't imagine that my sadness, anger or frustration will ever really go away. I've just learned to channel my feelings into something productive (when I can) and try to find purpose in it all. I also think it's perfectly normal to have up and down days. I'm sure if you think back to your old life, you had your share of bad days too. I often feel like I've been given an impossible task. Although people try their best to be supportive, unless they've lived with paralysis, it's near impossible for them to truly understand. Other people will offer you a ton of advice and try to cheer you up. People mean well, but only you know yourself best. You have to find your own reasons for wanting to keep moving forward. I've gotten better at dealing with certain things over time, but find it hard to believe I'll ever be satisfied or happy in my situation. Don't get me wrong, I still have things to be grateful for and things that make me happy, but it's always bittersweet.
I just take it one day at a time & try to give myself purpose. My family and friends are one reason I try to keep going forward. My hope for a cure is my second reason and my desire to salvage something positive from my accident is my third reason. For right now, those three reasons are enough. If my SCI has taught me anything, it's how fragile life is and how little control we ultimately have over our lives. I still struggle with the past, although I know I can't change it; I miss it. I try not to think ahead too far into the future, because I know how quickly things can change. I set loose goals for myself and take things as they come, day by day. Tomorrow my reasons to keep going might not be enough, or I might find even more. Who knows? Just do your best; that's all you can expect from yourself.
Right now, your quality of life rests heavily on your own choices. You have more power to improve your state of mind and/or your situation than anyone else. I have a website, dedicated to SCI & paralysis awareness. It's not a big deal, or anything, it's just one of my attempts at reaching out to others. It makes me feel good, to do things to raise awareness, even if it's small. It's important to me to feel like I'm doing something productive and that I'm contributing towards a cure. If you're interested, check it out. I hope my advice helps a little.
Sent from my iPad
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
The other day a person with a C6-C7 injury posted a question that caught my attention. This person was injured nine months ago, and wanted to know how other people cope with their injuries. Specifically, he asked, "those of you that are years out, when did you (if you did) come to terms with your new self? How long did it take for the emotional pain to subside?"
I didn't really ask myself this question until much later in my "recovery." I think I was in complete denial that I wouldn't "get better" for at least a year after my accident. Even now, a part of me wants to reject my "new self." Acknowledging this is it, means admitting that I won't ever get better. That is a hard pill to swallow. My way of "coming to terms" with reality is to essentially grieve for myself. I grieve over the loss of the "old Christina" and try to make the best out of the "Christina" that was left behind. That might sound bizarre to some people, but when every aspect of your life is turned completely upside down, you can't help but feel a sharp divide. One day you're independent, the next day you're dependent. The easiest way for me to deal with my life now, is to not constantly harbor on the past. That life is gone.
I decided to respond to the question about acceptance, because it is something I'm still struggling over today. I'm not so sure I want to accept this life. Here is what I wrote:
I think "acceptance" might not mean the same thing to everyone. When I think of that word, I always think of validation and surrender. On one hand, I acknowledge the fact that my life has changed (C5 complete, 6/5/05) and I recognize that the chances of me ever being "cured" are slim, to none. On the other hand, I will never be satisfied with this life and will fight to change as much as I can. A lot of people use the word acceptance to express being at peace with their situation or the fact that they have given up hope for anything better.
I'm a realist, so I know I'll probably spend the rest of my life in a chair. However, I feel like the moment I accept that this is it, that I'd be giving up hope. Without hope, I'd have no reason to try to keep moving forward. We've been dealt a really crap luck hand of cards and no matter how you look at it, it's always going to be crap, unless something changes. We can choose to do what we can to improve the situation we've been handed and make the best of it, or we can just accept it for what it is and leave it at that. If you accept someone, or something, you are essentially saying, "you/it are/is fine the way it are/is." Some people have learned how to accept their injuries and still move forward (reality is, life moves forward with, or without you) and are content. I will never be content living with paralysis.
It's horrible, what we go through and how we have to live. I wouldn't wish paralysis on anyone. Every adult human being should have the basic freedom of being able to care for themselves and privacy, for modesty. Paralysis steals both of those basic human rights, in addition to the pain & suffering due to all the other aspects of life that change or are lost altogether (physical talents, careers, material possessions, dreams, intimacy, life without medication, relationships, etc.).
No one should have to endure all of the loss and suffering that paralysis can cause. I can understand and accept losing abilities or senses gradually, with age. There are a lot of elderly people that require assistance, but the difference is that they were fortunate enough to live full, "normal" lives. If I were eighty or ninety years old, I'd be able to accept needing help. It's natural to lose or experience a decline in abilities, strengths and senses as part of aging, and getting older. Paralysis is so awful because it steals all that and more, in the matter of seconds. People that suffer a spinal cord injury aren't given a lifetime to deal with gradual change. Paralysis forces you to cope with a lifetime's worth of loss (not even, because there are tons of relatively healthy people in the eighties and up) overnight and robs you of the future you planned.
Another one of the worst aspects of spinal cord injuries is that they are completely random. There are no genetic markers, family history or warning symptoms to an injury. Anyone can get injured at any time and the results/recovery are often just as unpredictable a the injury itself. There is no full proof way to avoid injury and everybody's spinal cord injury is entirely unique to their physiology and the exact way they are injured. In fact, I'm always reminded of this man Gene, that was in rehab with me, at Kessler. Gene had been a fire fighter in NYC. One night, he and five other fire fighters were forced to jump out of a five story building (or be burnt to death). Two of those men died at the scene, while four survived. Obviously, Gene was among the four survivors. He was the last of his group to leave rehab after having survived the fifty foot plus fall, a coma and about eight months of therapy. On his last day of therapy, Gene walked out of Kessler with a cane.I can remember watching him leave, in disbelief. I recall feeling happy for him and jealous of him at the same time. It made no sense to me, how a man could walk after falling five stories and yet, doctors were telling me it was impossible for me to do the same. Contrarily to Gene, I broke my neck in a failed attempt to shallow dive in a swimming pool. I dove from about five and a half feet off the ground. I only spent three months at Kessler and left in a head controlled wheelchair. There is no rhyme or reason when it comes to spinal cord injuries. That is why I feel it is so important to teach people about paralysis. People need to understand how difficult it is to live with paralysis and recognize the fact that they can be injured just as easily, and unpredictably as we were.
It's insanely frustrating that doctors (the scientific community as a whole) still have little to offer in terms of a cure or recovery. It makes me angry and sad to know that right now, someone could be getting injured and doctors won't be able to help that person, any more than they helped me five years ago. It's sometimes baffling to me how far humanity has come and yet, we still have failed to figure out all there is to know about our own bodies. You can't help but want to lash out, at times, over how absurd it all seems and how messed up our priorities seem to be. Scientists say a cure is possible. Since I've been injured, I've heard and read the magic time span of five to ten years, over and over again. Unfortunately, people with injuries decades older than mine have been hearing, hoping and waiting for the same results, for much longer. It makes me sick when I hear researchers say it's just a matter of funding and policies (keep in mind, every country has it's own set of priorities and regulations).The thought that I could be cured (or that I might have never had to endure all that I have the past five years) if it weren't for lack of money and support, makes me want to scream.
At times, I get so fed up and just wish there was someone to give me answers. It all seems so unfair and hard to understand why more isn't being done. Research towards understanding and repairing the central nervous system is promising and on-going, but moving at a snail's pace. Our spinal cord and brains are the most important parts of our body (also extremely complex) and unlocking the keys to repairing damage, would have huge practical applications and alleviate tremendous suffering (even save on spending, in the long run). So why is it that we spend more money on detrimental things, like war and oil? How can our government thinks it's ok to invest billions of dollars to search for microbes in space, while he have millions of people suffering here on Earth? Many of the world's brightest minds are focused on questions of curiosity, versus questions of necessity. While fascinating, I fail to see what practical information that (most of) our space program can hope to provide. It seems like common sense, that humanity would want to understand all there is to know about ourselves, before wasting brainpower and time on other topics.
Sometimes I wonder if our society is the way it is, due to ignorance. Logic tells me that our priorities as a country, stem mostly from greed and selfishness. I think the rest of society just doesn't think about something, unless it effects them personally, or it's constantly in their face. So often I feel like people need to be hit over the head, before they'll pay attention. The majority of people are so self absorbed that it's hard for them to see the bigger picture. I always joke that its as if I see the world through a pair of one hundred year old eyes. Before my accident, I was guilty of being caught up in material things and had a totally different perspective on life. I stressed over stupid, insignificant things and didn't realize how blessed I was. I'd like to think of myself as a kind, helpful person, but before my accident, there was a lot of wonderful things I took for granted. In general, people need to be reminded and need some kind of emotional connection to really care about and support a cause. The out pour of aide and money that went to Haiti the first few weeks after their horrific earthquake is one example, of the potential support people are willing to give, if it touches their heart.
Right now, the support for paralysis research is not enough, especially when you look at diseases like AIDS and Cancer, and compare the amount of support that is generated for those illnesses. I think it's our job (for our own sake as well as others) to be out there, reminding people and/or teaching people about paralysis. It shouldn't have to take a celebrity to raise awareness. Part of the problem is that not enough people are exposed to disabilities, know someone with a severe disability or realize how quickly their life can change. I believe if more people really understood what paralysis is like, that there would be more support towards finding a cure. Naturally, a cure to paralysis would mean wiping out a ton of diseases and disabilities(ALS, MS, MD, Parkinson's, CP, etc.), and would effect millions more than just people with spinal cord injuries.
I can't imagine that my sadness, anger or frustration will ever really go away. I've just learned to channel my feelings into something productive (when I can) and try to find purpose in it all. I also think it's perfectly normal to have up and down days. I'm sure if you think back to your old life, you had your share of bad days too. I often feel like I've been given an impossible task. Although people try their best to be supportive, unless they've lived with paralysis, it's near impossible for them to truly understand. Other people will offer you a ton of advice and try to cheer you up. People mean well, but only you know yourself best. You have to find your own reasons for wanting to keep moving forward. I've gotten better at dealing with certain things over time, but find it hard to believe I'll ever be satisfied or happy in my situation. Don't get me wrong, I still have things to be grateful for and things that make me happy, but it's always bittersweet.
I just take it one day at a time & try to give myself purpose. My family and friends are one reason I try to keep going forward. My hope for a cure is my second reason and my desire to salvage something positive from my accident is my third reason. For right now, those three reasons are enough. If my SCI has taught me anything, it's how fragile life is and how little control we ultimately have over our lives. I still struggle with the past, although I know I can't change it; I miss it. I try not to think ahead too far into the future, because I know how quickly things can change. I set loose goals for myself and take things as they come, day by day. Tomorrow my reasons to keep going might not be enough, or I might find even more. Who knows? Just do your best; that's all you can expect from yourself.
Right now, your quality of life rests heavily on your own choices. You have more power to improve your state of mind and/or your situation than anyone else. I have a website, dedicated to SCI & paralysis awareness. It's not a big deal, or anything, it's just one of my attempts at reaching out to others. It makes me feel good, to do things to raise awareness, even if it's small. It's important to me to feel like I'm doing something productive and that I'm contributing towards a cure. If you're interested, check it out. I hope my advice helps a little.
Sent from my iPad
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
A Matter of Pride??
Living with paralysis is not easy. The smallest tasks that most people take for granted, require help. It'll be five years since my accident, this coming June and there are still aspects of my life that are as hard to cope with as they were back in 2005. My physical wounds only took a few months to heal (what little damage that could), but my mental and emotional wounds still feel fresh sometimes.
I know every situation is unique and the life people have before their spinal cord injury plays a big role in how they cope to the drastic changes of being paralyzed. I've come across quite a few people that had no real direction, or motivation at the time of their injury, had a weak support system of friends/family and few, too little skills to fall back on. It is a blessing and a curse that I had already finished college and had begun to establish my career, when I got hurt. I have a lot of skills, real world experience and a strong support system of friends and family. Despite all that, there are many days I find it incredibly hard to find reasons why I should keep trying; why I should move forward. The inner drive that helped me to be successful on me feet, has been my source of strength, while living in a chair. I can only imagine how much harder it would be to go through all this without the support of friends/family. It makes me very sad to think about all of things I have and lost, but recognize the fact that I still have more than some people I know. I do feel blessed to have had the twenty-four "normal," healthy years that I had. Although I've only been injured a fifth of my life, the time I spent on my feet seems like a blink of the eye, in comparison to the last five years. It is the sheer fact that I worked so hard and achieved so much, that makes it hard for me to want to just give up. A part of me feels like I have to fix the mistake and get back everything and anything I can, so that I don't feel like all my efforts were a waste of time and energy.
The few months before my accident I felt as though all the pieces of my life had finally fell into place. I had the brief luck of feeling completely at peace with my life and happy about the prospects of my future. I don't know if it would really matter as to how I cope with my paralysis, if I had never felt accomplished, happy or proud. Maybe if my life before had miserable, I'd have even less reason to keep going. Contrarily, maybe I'd have less reasons to feel so sad, because I wouldn't have lost so much. I'll never know, but I believe that it is definitely a factor in why I'm able to find strength, while others can't. It's bittersweet to having felt so close to realizing my dreams, only to have it all abruptly taken away. I think part of me feels the need to salvage what I can from my old life, because I'm still chasing after those same dreams. In away, it's like how drugs addict, perpetually chase after the sensation of their first high; although no matter what they do, they never find it. I long to feel the peace and happiness that I felt, those few months before my injury.
Reality is, most of what I had is gone and there's no way to get it back. My material possessions, like my apartment, clothes, car, etc., have all been slowly replaced with newer, more accessible versions or given away. My career is gone, but it's not from lack of trying. I was a year away from tenure, so unfortunately I had nothing to use as leverage, in terms of fighting the district's decision. Although it's painful, I can understand the choice, from a business perspective. I now require a double salary (in a sense), because of my need for an instructional aide. Knowing what I know now, I'm not sure that I'd be able to handle a full time job (physically speaking and having to relying on others to get me ready and for transportation). I've found a compromise in painting. It's not as rewarding, but at least I still feel like I'm using my degree to create art and teach a message. The forth major loss (after my functional abilities,possessions &career) I've had to face is that many of my personal relationships have gone or changed. I feel as though I've tried my best to stay connected and I remain hopeful that those relationships might mend some day. My efforts just aren't good enough for everyone and I have to restrain myself, at times, from going back time after time to work things out, only to end up hurt, again. In all, at least half of my lifetime goals are on hold indefinitely and trying to be patient, while remaining hopeful seems impossible sometimes.
Everything now is a compromise. I live in my own apartment, but with roommates (currently family). I own a car, but need someone to drive it. I create art, but I'm not working in the field I love. I crave time alone and privacy, but need help for everything. I have a dog, but can't take care of her. The list goes on an on. No matter how hard my loved ones, nurses or aides try, no one will ever to be able to do things the way I'd have done them myself (and for certain things, I'd much prefer no help at all). Not to mention, each person assisting me has their own style and quirks. My day to day life is packed full of tiny compromises. Being what most people would classify as an "A" type personality, it has been exceptionally difficult having little, to no control. I like things organized and precise. I love my privacy and freedom to travel. I have high standards on how things should be done and often over do things or get things done in advance. I used to be the queen of planning & had my life charted out and color coded. All of these character traits helped me be a successful student and teacher and allowed me to take on a heavy load of responsibilities. Now, those same traits make it difficult to deal with my need to completely rely on others. I've slowly learned to embrace the motto of taking things one day at a time and have learned to be patient. I'm much better at "going with the flow," than before and have since realized that being flexible is my key to keeping my sanity.
So many disabled people I know have the attitude of, "we can do anything able-bodied people can do, only in a different way." I understand the desire to want equality and respect for people with disabilities, but the upbeat "can do" attitude just irks me sometimes. I feel as though projecting that image of "being just like everyone else" glosses over the reality of the situation and belittles the struggles that people with disabilities face every day. I rather educate the public about the challenges I face and the obstacles that are due to my paralysis. I think acceptance comes through understanding. If society is educated about the realities of paralysis, society will A- embrace the urgent need for a cure and B- be informed enough to know what people with disabilities capabilities and necessities are. I agree that people with disabilities should have equal rights in terms of employment and that more consideration should be made to making things accessible. That said, I'm a realist. The "can doers" get on my nerves, because they often only paint half the picture and sugar coat the situation. If we (those of us with paralysis) are "just like everyone else", then why should people care about helping find a cure? It bothers me that an uneducated public might think: "If things are ok, why not focus on other issues? After all, those people living in wheelchairs don't have it so bad, right? So what is people with paralysis have to do things differently? At least they can do everything we do."
The truth of the matter is, I can't do everything most people can do and neither can the millions of other people suffering with paralysis. Yes, if we (those of us with paralysis) have the right services and support, we can still participate in many things and live full lives. If given the opportunity, we can contribute to society and be productive and certainly deserve respect. However, the reality is, that we are helpless without other people. Our minds might function just fine and we may "call the shots," but in the end, we can not do it alone. At times, I think the "can do" attitude stems from the need to want to feel included or not wanting to wound a person's sense of pride. Some times I think, maybe deep down, the "can do" attitude means that person has accepted his/her disability and has given up on a cure. Other times, I think the "can doer" uses that mind set to help himself/herself cope with all the loss, while trying not to put emphasis on all the realities of life that come along with being paralyzed. However, society needs to see the whole picture. Many people are completely clueless of what a day in the life of someone with paralysis is like. The things that often go overlooked or seem insignificant to an able-bodied person are often big ordeals and stressful for people with disabilities. Toileting is a perfect example of something that the average person doesn't think about, because for them it is a private, personal matter and even if they have insecurities, they have the option not to share them. Going to the bathroom is a basic necessity of life, so no matter how unpleasant, or embarrassing it might be, my paralysis forces me to invite other people into my very private space, in order to help me. I have no choice but to cope with the situation. Cope, or go crazy, I suppose. I've had low self esteem my entire life, so I understand the desire to want to mask flaws or perceived abnormalities. Deep down everyone wants to fit in.
The danger of always acting like a "can doer"' is that it ignores the all the reasons why paralysis is so awful and it can back fire in terms of people's quest for equality. The expression "careful what you wish for, because you might just get it," often crosses my mind. For people with disabilities to be truly "equal" to mainstream society, that would imply that we don't need any special allowances or modifications. Naturally, that is absurd. Most people mean "equal opportunity," when they refer to being equal and do not that people with disabilities should be held to the same criteria as everyone else. I see a problem with this mentality. You can't have your cake and eat it too. I agree that people with disabilities should be given equal opportunity and should be provided with what ever adaptations, modifications or assistance they need, in order for them to be able to be included or productive members of society. However, I think it's critical that the average person know why modifications are necessary in the first place. For example, the fact that I rely on someone else to get dressed, eat, get in my chair and to provide me with transportation. It's not always feasible for me to be on time and I often have to cancel plans. However, these are issues outside of my control and should not reflect poorly on me or be counted against me. Trust me, I would love to be able to hop out of bed into the shower and out the door. Reality is, I can't and while I might have been a very punctual person before, it's not always the case now. People need to be educated. The more people know about various disabilities, the easier it is to promote understanding and acceptance. If more people really knew about the nuances of paralysis and how the disability effects the individual and the extended family, there would be a much louder cry for a cure. If more people understood the challenges of living with a disability people would be more aware and sensitive towards the needs of disabled community. Think about how many times you've gone out and thought, "Why isn't the ramp over here?"; "Am I going to be able to fit a wheelchair through there?"; "How am I going to open that door?." Most people don't consider things with disabilities in mind, partly out of ignorance and party because it hasn't impacted their life.
I think it's our job (those of us living with disabilities and those of us that have loved ones with disabilities) to get out there and help people see why we are fighting for a cure. I applaud others for trying to inspire and be role modes for other people with disabilities. I think it's important that we support one another. Don't get me wrong, I'm not totally against the "can do" attitude. I'm also by no means perfect or think I'm always right. I have a ton of insecurities and vanities. Everyone can benefit from a positive message. "Can doers" offer hope and inspiration to everyone, because of what they do, despite their limitations. I suppose there are certain aspects of my life that others might say are motivational or positive. It's certainly not my goal to be a downer or negative. It is my mission to be realistic. As embarrassing as it is at times, I open myself up to the public, in hopes of raising awareness. I'm not comfortable with my current situation. I'm not looking for pity, but it doesn't offend me when people express sympathy for my situation. I don't view that as degrading; I view it as sympathetic. You know what? I'm sorry for my situation too. It is sad to think about everything I lost and it's not easy living with paralysis. Pride is useless to me. I can't think of anything about paralysis that I'm proud of. I feel satisfaction and/or accomplished at times. I don't have to try. I certainly don't have to make myself uncomfortable in hopes of helping find a cure. I do what I do because I feel a need to educate people. In fact, I think those of us with spinal cord injuries have a valuable, unique perspective to share, because we can relate to both able body people as well as disabled body people. Spinal cord injuries can happen to anyone at any time and have the potential to radically change a life in a matter of seconds. People might not seriously consider the risk of disease, especially if they are young and healthy, but no one can ignore the potential of injury. Spinal cord injuries have nothing to do with genetics, diet, race or gender; everyone is susceptible. In a way I think of raising awareness as a moral obligation, in addition to its benefits of fostering understanding and raising support for a cure.
All in all, I just wish people would be honest. Be real. Be open. Let people in and help them understand why we need a cure. The bottom line is that, no matter how happy or how well someone copes with his/her disability, I'm 99% certain that anyone would gladly trade his/her chair in exchange for a cure. No rational human being would choose dependence, sickness and obstacles over health and freedom. Put your pride aside for the greater good (even if it''s just every now and then) and help fight for a cure. The more people you touch (effect, inspire, motivate and/or educate), the more people will care. I work on coping with my situation every day. I try to make the best of my situation, but I refuse to ever accept my paralysis. I know it's my reality, for now and even perhaps until I die, but I will never accept that it's ok. It's not ok. No one should have to live like this. At the very least, everyone deserves to be healthy and I would never wish this life on someone else. That is why I say it's my responsibility to do something, even if it's small.
I know every situation is unique and the life people have before their spinal cord injury plays a big role in how they cope to the drastic changes of being paralyzed. I've come across quite a few people that had no real direction, or motivation at the time of their injury, had a weak support system of friends/family and few, too little skills to fall back on. It is a blessing and a curse that I had already finished college and had begun to establish my career, when I got hurt. I have a lot of skills, real world experience and a strong support system of friends and family. Despite all that, there are many days I find it incredibly hard to find reasons why I should keep trying; why I should move forward. The inner drive that helped me to be successful on me feet, has been my source of strength, while living in a chair. I can only imagine how much harder it would be to go through all this without the support of friends/family. It makes me very sad to think about all of things I have and lost, but recognize the fact that I still have more than some people I know. I do feel blessed to have had the twenty-four "normal," healthy years that I had. Although I've only been injured a fifth of my life, the time I spent on my feet seems like a blink of the eye, in comparison to the last five years. It is the sheer fact that I worked so hard and achieved so much, that makes it hard for me to want to just give up. A part of me feels like I have to fix the mistake and get back everything and anything I can, so that I don't feel like all my efforts were a waste of time and energy.
The few months before my accident I felt as though all the pieces of my life had finally fell into place. I had the brief luck of feeling completely at peace with my life and happy about the prospects of my future. I don't know if it would really matter as to how I cope with my paralysis, if I had never felt accomplished, happy or proud. Maybe if my life before had miserable, I'd have even less reason to keep going. Contrarily, maybe I'd have less reasons to feel so sad, because I wouldn't have lost so much. I'll never know, but I believe that it is definitely a factor in why I'm able to find strength, while others can't. It's bittersweet to having felt so close to realizing my dreams, only to have it all abruptly taken away. I think part of me feels the need to salvage what I can from my old life, because I'm still chasing after those same dreams. In away, it's like how drugs addict, perpetually chase after the sensation of their first high; although no matter what they do, they never find it. I long to feel the peace and happiness that I felt, those few months before my injury.
Reality is, most of what I had is gone and there's no way to get it back. My material possessions, like my apartment, clothes, car, etc., have all been slowly replaced with newer, more accessible versions or given away. My career is gone, but it's not from lack of trying. I was a year away from tenure, so unfortunately I had nothing to use as leverage, in terms of fighting the district's decision. Although it's painful, I can understand the choice, from a business perspective. I now require a double salary (in a sense), because of my need for an instructional aide. Knowing what I know now, I'm not sure that I'd be able to handle a full time job (physically speaking and having to relying on others to get me ready and for transportation). I've found a compromise in painting. It's not as rewarding, but at least I still feel like I'm using my degree to create art and teach a message. The forth major loss (after my functional abilities,possessions &career) I've had to face is that many of my personal relationships have gone or changed. I feel as though I've tried my best to stay connected and I remain hopeful that those relationships might mend some day. My efforts just aren't good enough for everyone and I have to restrain myself, at times, from going back time after time to work things out, only to end up hurt, again. In all, at least half of my lifetime goals are on hold indefinitely and trying to be patient, while remaining hopeful seems impossible sometimes.
Everything now is a compromise. I live in my own apartment, but with roommates (currently family). I own a car, but need someone to drive it. I create art, but I'm not working in the field I love. I crave time alone and privacy, but need help for everything. I have a dog, but can't take care of her. The list goes on an on. No matter how hard my loved ones, nurses or aides try, no one will ever to be able to do things the way I'd have done them myself (and for certain things, I'd much prefer no help at all). Not to mention, each person assisting me has their own style and quirks. My day to day life is packed full of tiny compromises. Being what most people would classify as an "A" type personality, it has been exceptionally difficult having little, to no control. I like things organized and precise. I love my privacy and freedom to travel. I have high standards on how things should be done and often over do things or get things done in advance. I used to be the queen of planning & had my life charted out and color coded. All of these character traits helped me be a successful student and teacher and allowed me to take on a heavy load of responsibilities. Now, those same traits make it difficult to deal with my need to completely rely on others. I've slowly learned to embrace the motto of taking things one day at a time and have learned to be patient. I'm much better at "going with the flow," than before and have since realized that being flexible is my key to keeping my sanity.
So many disabled people I know have the attitude of, "we can do anything able-bodied people can do, only in a different way." I understand the desire to want equality and respect for people with disabilities, but the upbeat "can do" attitude just irks me sometimes. I feel as though projecting that image of "being just like everyone else" glosses over the reality of the situation and belittles the struggles that people with disabilities face every day. I rather educate the public about the challenges I face and the obstacles that are due to my paralysis. I think acceptance comes through understanding. If society is educated about the realities of paralysis, society will A- embrace the urgent need for a cure and B- be informed enough to know what people with disabilities capabilities and necessities are. I agree that people with disabilities should have equal rights in terms of employment and that more consideration should be made to making things accessible. That said, I'm a realist. The "can doers" get on my nerves, because they often only paint half the picture and sugar coat the situation. If we (those of us with paralysis) are "just like everyone else", then why should people care about helping find a cure? It bothers me that an uneducated public might think: "If things are ok, why not focus on other issues? After all, those people living in wheelchairs don't have it so bad, right? So what is people with paralysis have to do things differently? At least they can do everything we do."
The truth of the matter is, I can't do everything most people can do and neither can the millions of other people suffering with paralysis. Yes, if we (those of us with paralysis) have the right services and support, we can still participate in many things and live full lives. If given the opportunity, we can contribute to society and be productive and certainly deserve respect. However, the reality is, that we are helpless without other people. Our minds might function just fine and we may "call the shots," but in the end, we can not do it alone. At times, I think the "can do" attitude stems from the need to want to feel included or not wanting to wound a person's sense of pride. Some times I think, maybe deep down, the "can do" attitude means that person has accepted his/her disability and has given up on a cure. Other times, I think the "can doer" uses that mind set to help himself/herself cope with all the loss, while trying not to put emphasis on all the realities of life that come along with being paralyzed. However, society needs to see the whole picture. Many people are completely clueless of what a day in the life of someone with paralysis is like. The things that often go overlooked or seem insignificant to an able-bodied person are often big ordeals and stressful for people with disabilities. Toileting is a perfect example of something that the average person doesn't think about, because for them it is a private, personal matter and even if they have insecurities, they have the option not to share them. Going to the bathroom is a basic necessity of life, so no matter how unpleasant, or embarrassing it might be, my paralysis forces me to invite other people into my very private space, in order to help me. I have no choice but to cope with the situation. Cope, or go crazy, I suppose. I've had low self esteem my entire life, so I understand the desire to want to mask flaws or perceived abnormalities. Deep down everyone wants to fit in.
The danger of always acting like a "can doer"' is that it ignores the all the reasons why paralysis is so awful and it can back fire in terms of people's quest for equality. The expression "careful what you wish for, because you might just get it," often crosses my mind. For people with disabilities to be truly "equal" to mainstream society, that would imply that we don't need any special allowances or modifications. Naturally, that is absurd. Most people mean "equal opportunity," when they refer to being equal and do not that people with disabilities should be held to the same criteria as everyone else. I see a problem with this mentality. You can't have your cake and eat it too. I agree that people with disabilities should be given equal opportunity and should be provided with what ever adaptations, modifications or assistance they need, in order for them to be able to be included or productive members of society. However, I think it's critical that the average person know why modifications are necessary in the first place. For example, the fact that I rely on someone else to get dressed, eat, get in my chair and to provide me with transportation. It's not always feasible for me to be on time and I often have to cancel plans. However, these are issues outside of my control and should not reflect poorly on me or be counted against me. Trust me, I would love to be able to hop out of bed into the shower and out the door. Reality is, I can't and while I might have been a very punctual person before, it's not always the case now. People need to be educated. The more people know about various disabilities, the easier it is to promote understanding and acceptance. If more people really knew about the nuances of paralysis and how the disability effects the individual and the extended family, there would be a much louder cry for a cure. If more people understood the challenges of living with a disability people would be more aware and sensitive towards the needs of disabled community. Think about how many times you've gone out and thought, "Why isn't the ramp over here?"; "Am I going to be able to fit a wheelchair through there?"; "How am I going to open that door?." Most people don't consider things with disabilities in mind, partly out of ignorance and party because it hasn't impacted their life.
I think it's our job (those of us living with disabilities and those of us that have loved ones with disabilities) to get out there and help people see why we are fighting for a cure. I applaud others for trying to inspire and be role modes for other people with disabilities. I think it's important that we support one another. Don't get me wrong, I'm not totally against the "can do" attitude. I'm also by no means perfect or think I'm always right. I have a ton of insecurities and vanities. Everyone can benefit from a positive message. "Can doers" offer hope and inspiration to everyone, because of what they do, despite their limitations. I suppose there are certain aspects of my life that others might say are motivational or positive. It's certainly not my goal to be a downer or negative. It is my mission to be realistic. As embarrassing as it is at times, I open myself up to the public, in hopes of raising awareness. I'm not comfortable with my current situation. I'm not looking for pity, but it doesn't offend me when people express sympathy for my situation. I don't view that as degrading; I view it as sympathetic. You know what? I'm sorry for my situation too. It is sad to think about everything I lost and it's not easy living with paralysis. Pride is useless to me. I can't think of anything about paralysis that I'm proud of. I feel satisfaction and/or accomplished at times. I don't have to try. I certainly don't have to make myself uncomfortable in hopes of helping find a cure. I do what I do because I feel a need to educate people. In fact, I think those of us with spinal cord injuries have a valuable, unique perspective to share, because we can relate to both able body people as well as disabled body people. Spinal cord injuries can happen to anyone at any time and have the potential to radically change a life in a matter of seconds. People might not seriously consider the risk of disease, especially if they are young and healthy, but no one can ignore the potential of injury. Spinal cord injuries have nothing to do with genetics, diet, race or gender; everyone is susceptible. In a way I think of raising awareness as a moral obligation, in addition to its benefits of fostering understanding and raising support for a cure.
All in all, I just wish people would be honest. Be real. Be open. Let people in and help them understand why we need a cure. The bottom line is that, no matter how happy or how well someone copes with his/her disability, I'm 99% certain that anyone would gladly trade his/her chair in exchange for a cure. No rational human being would choose dependence, sickness and obstacles over health and freedom. Put your pride aside for the greater good (even if it''s just every now and then) and help fight for a cure. The more people you touch (effect, inspire, motivate and/or educate), the more people will care. I work on coping with my situation every day. I try to make the best of my situation, but I refuse to ever accept my paralysis. I know it's my reality, for now and even perhaps until I die, but I will never accept that it's ok. It's not ok. No one should have to live like this. At the very least, everyone deserves to be healthy and I would never wish this life on someone else. That is why I say it's my responsibility to do something, even if it's small.
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