One of the many annoying things about being completely paralyzed, and totally dependent on others is the fact I can't take care of my own things. Not being able to be self sufficient with my personal hygiene and toileting needs are by far, the worst most embarrassing, degrading and invasive aspects of being paralyzed. Not being able to take myself to the bathroom, wash, dress, groom & feed myself are the aspects of being paralyzed I hate most. However, not being able to take care of my things, and maintain my living space is the second worst aspect of not being able to do anything.
Even though I have help from people (aides, nurses, friends & family) and try my best to direct how I would like things done, and where things should go, I'm forever frustrated because no matter what, no one ever manages to do things exactly the way I would like. It boils down to two key problems. First off, there are just too many "hands in the pot." On a daily basis I've got three, to four different people helping me. Even though I try my best to be organized and label everything I possibly can, things routinely get misplaced. Either the person helping me doesn't put the item away (right away), and the item ends up sitting in the wrong spot for days (and then potentially gets moved by someone else- in the effort to straighten up) or it gets put away in the wrong place all together. The second annoying thing that is most frustrating is that most times things are not as clean, or orderly as I'd normlly keep them, if I could care for them myself. The old adage "if you want something done right, do it yourself" most certainly applies to me, for basically everything. However, my paralysis keeps me from being able to do anything besides giving verbal directions and asking for help, and then hope for the best.
I try so hard not to lose my temper, get impatient and to not let "the little things" get to me. In the larger scope of everything I deal with (and am forced to endure), thanks to paralysis, I really can't afford to obsess over material things. Rationally, logically, I understand my stuff is just stuff. At best, my material possessions offer me a small amount of comfort and distraction. They don't really impact, or influence the bigger, more pressing dilemmas, physical limitations and burdens I deal with. I have enough on my mental "plate" at any given moment, that would ordinarily seem completely overwhelming to the average individual. If I let myself get mad or upset, every time I come out of my room to see a dirty kitchen, or my aides can't find something I'm looking for, I would go absolutely mad.
I think what makes living with paralysis especially hard for me, is the type of person I was before my injury. When I was on my feet, living independently I had a classic "A-type" personality. I was what you might call, a "control freak," and definite over achiever. I planned my life down to the nano-second. I put a lot of pressure on myself to succeed in everything I did: as a student, as a teacher, as a daughter, as a friend, as a person. I hid every self perceived flaw and tried to be as close to "perfection" as possible. Being organized, and a planner helped me thrive and even though I often balanced a lot on my plate, I managed well.
I remember when I was in college, my friends and family would tease me, because every semester I created a color coded grid, allotting time for everything: from class, to study time, to work, to sleep, to time with my boyfriend. I kept my time management chart with me at all times (in my school planners) and had several posted (one in my bedroom and one posted at my boyfriend's). I always used green to signify "boyfriend time." My ex was a much more laid back, and a "go with the flow" kind of person, so he was always forever getting frustrated with me. Looking back, it was a bit over the top, but I know it helped to keep me focused and on task. I ended up graduating from college with a 3.9 GPA, and I definitely attribute that to my ability to multi-task and micro manage my life.
Being organized also definitely helped me to be a good teacher. I had my lessons planned out months in advance (so I was never caught off guard, or left scratching my head for things to do). Everything in my classroom had its place and my students were each assigned roles (which I alternated from month to month, based on my seating charts). Even though I had nearly five hundred students, in twenty different classes, I always knew what I was doing with each group, and easily juggled up to eight or nine different projects, during any given week. My classroom ran like clockwork, which helped my students to stay on task and made it easy to maintain control and give directions.
By the time I had started teaching, I had graduated from using my paper college planner (highlighters and tons of post-its) to a hand held electronic organizer (Palm Pilot). My Palm Pilot was my life saver. I relied heavily on it, to balance my time between work, graduate classes, family time, going to the gym, running errands and my social life. My apartment was always spotless. I had a particular way of doing everything: cleaning, laundry, keeping records, paying bills, etc. I had a particular way for folding my clothes. My closet was organized by color, and grouped according to the various types of clothing (strapless shirts, short sleeve shirts, long sleeve shirts, skirts, capris, kakhis, dress pants & jeans). My dvds, and cds were alphabetized (since I owned hundreds). I kept all my receipts, and paperwork neatly filed in filing cabinets. My books shelves were organized by topic. Everything was easy to find.
I tried not to let things pile up, and cleaned up after myself everyday. I enjoyed coming home to a clean living space. I loved the crisp, clean scent of Clorox wipes, Swiffer solution, laundry detergent, Febreeze and Glade Plug-ins. I liked being able to always know where my things were, and to have everything tidy, uniform, and in its place. I always felt more peaceful and relaxed when everything was put away and everything was clutter free and sparkling. I tried to keep my home and classroom clean and organized at all times, so if an uninvited guest, or surprise visitor (like my principal- at work obviously) showed up, I wouldn't feel caught of guard or embarrassed.
My paralysis has taken nearly every ounce of control, and power away from me. The only thing I can do myself (once I get set up) is paint, write, handle my finances, shopping and direct the people helping me. If it weren't for the computer, I would have an even smaller list. Since I can't handle, or put away my own things, I have to rely on my memory, for keeping track of everything. It's critical that my helpers follow through with my directions, so that there is consistancy and I know where everything SHOULD be. Even though my family, friends and aides try their best to follow directions, everyone has his/her own little quirks and their own standard of cleanliness. No one person does things exactly as I would. I've had to learn to bite my tongue many, many times and learn how to be flexible and to go with the flow. Despite the fact that I have vastly expanded my tolerance for patience, there I still some days when I just want to rip my hair out & scream.
There are some things that require demonstration. No matter how great, or poor my vocabulary is (in English or Spanish) there are just times when I wish I could just SHOW the person helping me what I want, or what I mean. At times it is exasperating having to explain, and re-explain myself. There are many times when I have an aide or nurse helping me, but I end up calling my mother or sister over, because they know what to do, or how to do it. It's much quicker (and less frustrating) to have someone who knows what I want to teach, or demonstrate to my aide how to do what I want. It saves me a lot of time and aggravation.
The other thing that has been so difficult for me since my accident is having to share my space (and all of my things) with other people. For one, I live in a two bedroom, two bathroom apartment, so there's not a tremendous amount of space. My mom and sister live with me and although they've gotten better over the years, their definition of "clean" and "organized" doesn't usually stand up to my picky expectations. Then you have to consider the fact that I have several aides and nurses, which also touch, clean and put away my things. It only takes one person to misplace something, and I'm stuck playing detective, hunting through the entire apartment. Plus, almost all the furniture and stuff (in general) in the apartment is mine. I expect the common areas which we share, like the living room and kitchen to be clean. It irks me when they're not because I feel embarrassed by a messy home (which my aides, nurses & visitors see) and it also ticks me off when I feel as though my things aren't being cared for properly. Although I'm not miserly or greedy, I do take pride in the things I buy and own. I think it's unfair (and frustrating) when I see my things being misused, or neglected.
Certain things that bother me, like crumbs on the counter, half empty cups, food wrappers, shoes and articles of clothing lying around, don't seem bother my mom & sister. It's little, in the scheme of things, but it's hard not to get annoyed or angry. I hardly ever see their room or bathroom, but do occasionally ask my aides and nurses about their conditions. I feel it's my responsibility (but get annoyed because they are adults & feel I shouldn't need to check up after them- or nag them) because it's my apartment. They might not be embarrassed by ring stains in the toilet, or toothpaste in the sink, but I am. In my house growing up (with my dad & stepdad) laziness, and sloppiness weren't tolerated. I used to groan & complain as a kid, but now I understand it's because they worked hard for what we had and wanted my brother and I to respect that fact, and help them maintain things.
I was taught (at home & at school) that people judge you by your appearance. If you dress sloppy and keep a messy home, people are bound to think less of you. First impressions matter (in matters of building personal and professional relationships and in getting a job), how you speak, carry yourself and maintain your home all reflect on the type of person you are. I've always held those lessons close to my heart. I always want to put my best face forward, in every aspect of my life. I try to take pride in myself (although it's challenging given my condition) and my things and want others to take notice of that fact.
It's frustrating having to share my space (although my family is very supportive & comforting in many ways- I'd much prefer to be independent). It's hard having so many other people touch me and my things. I try my best to maintain control over what I can, but know there's only so much I can do. I can't realistically hold my family, aides and nurses to my personal standards, and expect them to be as nit picky as I am. I know that's too much to ask, and every time I try, I only end up getting more frustrated, dissolutioned and agitated. My accident made me go from being a control freak, to having absolutely no control whatsoever overnight. It hasn't been an easy transition, learning to compromise, lower my expectations and having to just "let go" of certain things.
If anything, the biggest lesson my accident has taught me, is that control is just an illusion. We all think we have control over our lives, but in reality all the best plans in the world can be shattered in an instant. Control is a coping mechanism we each use, to give our lives order and purpose. Unfortunately, anyone can lose control (over everything) easier, and more quickly than most people care to acknowledge or realize. Even after everything I've been through, and as helpless as I am, I'm still guilty of trying to be "in control" of what little I can. I know at times it might be futile, or even possibly end up blowing up in my face (when things don't turn out the way I "planned"- nothing rarely ever does), but it's ingrained in my nature and a hard habit to break.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Showing posts with label independence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label independence. Show all posts
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Yes. Another Butt Related Blog...
Today I went to see the surgeon my physiatrist suggested to me, to get my hemorrhoids removed. Initially I was scheduled for the procedure on Wednesday, but they canceled and rescheduled for today. Three sleepless nights, a week of eating a semi- liquid, high fiber diet and I'm not hemorrhoid free. It took us (my mother & I) about an hour's drive to get to the doctor's office. We even brought my Hoyer lift along for the ride, in preparation for the visit.
The surgeon sat with me first in her office, for a consultation. I described my normal bowel regime, and told her about my daily bouts of autonomic dysreflexia, about my mystery chest pains, and about my (and my physiatrist & regular physician's) theory of how my hemorrhoids could be contributing to, and/or causing most of my symptoms. She agreed that it could very likely be the case, and said she would need to examine me. So me, my mom & an assistant followed her into an examination room. The three of them used my lift to get me onto the table, and rolled me on my side, for the doctor to examine me (I was smart and wore a skirt- for easy access). She poked around (literally) for a few moments and then said we could talk about options.
The exam itself, wasn't so bad. It was just the mild discomfort of pins, and needles and goosebumps, that I typically get with digital stimulation. Luckily, it didn't last more than a few seconds. She confirmed the presence of hemorrhoids, but said we should discuss pros and cons, before deciding on surgery. I had assumed (based on what my physiatrist had told me, and from my phone conversation with the receptionist) that I was going to have the surgery today, during my visit. The doctor explained that normally the surgery would take place in the hospital, and I'd need to schedule a separate appointment, if that's what I decided I wanted to do.
The assistant and my mom helped to put me back in my chair, and the doctor told me her assessment. She said that the hemorrhoids I have internally are normal, given my situation and the typical flaccidness present with my type of injury. She said that given the fact that I have to have a bowel regimen, and digital stimulation, that those internal hemorrhoids would be expected. She said since my colon wasn't prolapsed, and the external hemorrhoids I have are small "tissue flaps" she wouldn't recommend surgery.
She said that I had several options to try and combat the AD. First, she said the external hemorrhoids were minor and not typically painful (my mother & other people I've talked to that have them tend to disagree on that point). She said I should just continue to treat them with the creams and suppositories (Anucort) I've been using. She said one of the causes for my AD could be the fact that I need to go to the bathroom every day. She explained that once the stool moves into the colon, it could be sending my body signals (even though I don't feel the actual "urge" to have to go). She said that I could try going back to doing my bowel program every day. That of course, I answered with an absolute, "No way!" Secondly, she suggested I could try experimenting with my bowel program medications. She said since I'm taking Senekot daily, that it helping to push the stool down more regularly. Of course, the risk with only taking my Senekot every other day, is that I could potentially become constipated. It's a risky, but more favorable option to try.
The third thing she suggested was switching from using the magic bullet suppository, to an enema based bowel routine. This is one option my physiatrist also suggested. The surgeon didn't specify a product, however my physiatrist did. I mentioned the Enmeez mini-enemas in my last blog, and got quite a bit of feedback about the product, from other quadriplegic users, on the Care Cure and CDRF forums. The overall consensus of people that responded (about a dozen) said that they preferred the "Enmeez Plus" (which has an added numbing agent) to the magic bullet, and that once their bodies acclimated to using it, they did have effective results, with less AD symptoms. It even specifies reduction of AD on the packaging, as being one of the benefits. The only "catch" to using the Enmeez, is that I would need to allow for time for my body to get used to the new method. Several people warned that it took them multiple uses, before they started seeing consistent results. That means, I'd have a period of unsuccessful BP days, which could entail lots of additional digital stimulation needed, and the threat of having accidents.
The fourth thing she suggested was trying a new medication called "Vasculera", which is an FDA approved "medical food for the dietary management of the metabolic processes of chronic venous insufficiency, one of the underlying causes of hemorrhoids." She said she wasn't sure how expensive it was, of if insurance (Medicaid/Medicare) would cover it, but gave me one sample and a coupon to try it. She said it doesn't have any known adverse side effects, and it could help the decrease the AD a bit. That was her most appealing and easiest suggestion.
Her last suggested option was getting a colostomy. She said, since I hated having BP so much that I should consider it. I gave her my long laundry list of reasons as to why it is not something I'd consider (see previous blogs). She poopooed (no pun intended- ok maybe intended) each of my reasons, as if they were no big deal. She went on to tell me about several patients she had performed colostomies on, and proceeded to show me several different bag styles. She said of all her patients, only one women ended up hating hers and asked for it to be reversed. Again, I stressed the fact that I'd still need to get the mucous buildup digitally removed. She said not necessarily. I pointed out the fact that I didn't want to be able to pass gas through two openings. She fluffed that fact off, saying it hardly happens.
She then continued to go on, and on how "since you have some arm function, you might even be able to apply, or remove peel and stick style bags yourself- if you had the right help." She rummaged through her cabinet to find an example. I pointed out that I have no wrist, hand or finger control or movement. She replied, "yes, but with adaptive equipment and the right help (perhaps a good occupational therapist) you might be able to do some of the care yourself." By that point, I was getting frustrated and had heard enough.
I just don't get some doctors (or people in general). Can someone please explain to me, what is the f*%#ing point of going through the trouble of having SOMEONE else strap on an adaptive handcuff, so I can "maybe" tear off a bag of my own feces, only to then need that same person to then have to hand me a clean bag, that I can "maybe" reattach to ANOTHER ARTIFICIAL hole in the side of my body?! Number one, who the f&$# am I supposed be fooling; myself or my "assistant"? I'd still need help with every step of the process, down to the fact that someone else would need to strap the damn adaptive device to my hand. Number two, someone else would still be smelling and cleaning up after MY poop! What is the point of going through five extra steps, to have to have help with each step. Only a deluded person would call that "independence" or "self sufficient." It's a damn joke! It's like saying "I can feed myself." Sure, if someone else prepares my food, puts in n a plate, cuts in up, puts my adaptive hand cuff with fork on my wrist, sits me at a table, puts a plate guard on my plate, and places said plate in front on me; then, and only then, I can pierce the food with fork and get it into my mouth. In the time it takes to set up that ridiculous charade my foods cold, and I could've easily been fed, and finished eating.
I tried really hard to keep my cool. I did mention the fact that I'd still need assistance. No matter how you slice it, colostomy or BP I need other people involved in handling my feces. How hard is that to comprehend? The whole point, is I am a private person. I don't want other people knowing when and how I poop; or urinate for that matter. I'm sick and tired of needing people for every tiny, minuscule detail of my daily life. I'm fed up with having people in my face, touching me, invading my personal space. I don't want to be fed, clothed, bathed, poked, prodded and everything else in-between. I just want a NORMAL life, of independence and privacy. Paralysis FORCES me to accept help and I hate it! I'm especially tired of hearing about how other people live this way. Yeah, and you know what? A good majority of them are as tired, and disgusted as I am. We are stuck, with limited choices. It's take it or leave it. I'm very close to leaving it.
Like I've said a million times before, "live a few days in my shoes, and then get back to me, on how I SHOULD live, and what I SHOULD do." Until you manage to do that (by the way, I wouldn't seriously wish my condition on my worst enemy), please spare me your critiques and judgement. In the meantime, I'm going to try the Vasculera and discuss the Enmeez with my one nurse. I just lost two of my regular nurses for most of July and August. My BP schedule for July is still half empty, so I'm hesitant to start a completely new regimen. I think I might wait until I know I'm going to have a consistent schedule, with nurses I trust.
I did ask the surgeon about the bentyl (for my IBS) my physiatrist suggested. I had mentioned it to my regular physician this past Tuesday, and he said it could cause constipation. He advised I wait until I go see the GI. I called the GI I saw back in November (in the hospital), to schedule an endoscopy, but he no longer accepts Medcaid/Medicare. So I have to find someone new to see. The surgeon said she wouldn't recommend bentyl, saying she didn't think it was effective. So I'll have to wait and see about any suggestions for the IBS until I follow up with the GI.
Related links-
1. http://www.gastroendonews.com/ViewArticle.aspx?d=FDA%2BUpdate%2B%26amp%3B%2BProduct%2BNews&d_id=183&i=March%2B2011&i_id=715&a_id=16840
2. http://www.enemeez.com/ct/store/productInfo_mini_plus.asp
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
The surgeon sat with me first in her office, for a consultation. I described my normal bowel regime, and told her about my daily bouts of autonomic dysreflexia, about my mystery chest pains, and about my (and my physiatrist & regular physician's) theory of how my hemorrhoids could be contributing to, and/or causing most of my symptoms. She agreed that it could very likely be the case, and said she would need to examine me. So me, my mom & an assistant followed her into an examination room. The three of them used my lift to get me onto the table, and rolled me on my side, for the doctor to examine me (I was smart and wore a skirt- for easy access). She poked around (literally) for a few moments and then said we could talk about options.
The exam itself, wasn't so bad. It was just the mild discomfort of pins, and needles and goosebumps, that I typically get with digital stimulation. Luckily, it didn't last more than a few seconds. She confirmed the presence of hemorrhoids, but said we should discuss pros and cons, before deciding on surgery. I had assumed (based on what my physiatrist had told me, and from my phone conversation with the receptionist) that I was going to have the surgery today, during my visit. The doctor explained that normally the surgery would take place in the hospital, and I'd need to schedule a separate appointment, if that's what I decided I wanted to do.
The assistant and my mom helped to put me back in my chair, and the doctor told me her assessment. She said that the hemorrhoids I have internally are normal, given my situation and the typical flaccidness present with my type of injury. She said that given the fact that I have to have a bowel regimen, and digital stimulation, that those internal hemorrhoids would be expected. She said since my colon wasn't prolapsed, and the external hemorrhoids I have are small "tissue flaps" she wouldn't recommend surgery.
She said that I had several options to try and combat the AD. First, she said the external hemorrhoids were minor and not typically painful (my mother & other people I've talked to that have them tend to disagree on that point). She said I should just continue to treat them with the creams and suppositories (Anucort) I've been using. She said one of the causes for my AD could be the fact that I need to go to the bathroom every day. She explained that once the stool moves into the colon, it could be sending my body signals (even though I don't feel the actual "urge" to have to go). She said that I could try going back to doing my bowel program every day. That of course, I answered with an absolute, "No way!" Secondly, she suggested I could try experimenting with my bowel program medications. She said since I'm taking Senekot daily, that it helping to push the stool down more regularly. Of course, the risk with only taking my Senekot every other day, is that I could potentially become constipated. It's a risky, but more favorable option to try.
The third thing she suggested was switching from using the magic bullet suppository, to an enema based bowel routine. This is one option my physiatrist also suggested. The surgeon didn't specify a product, however my physiatrist did. I mentioned the Enmeez mini-enemas in my last blog, and got quite a bit of feedback about the product, from other quadriplegic users, on the Care Cure and CDRF forums. The overall consensus of people that responded (about a dozen) said that they preferred the "Enmeez Plus" (which has an added numbing agent) to the magic bullet, and that once their bodies acclimated to using it, they did have effective results, with less AD symptoms. It even specifies reduction of AD on the packaging, as being one of the benefits. The only "catch" to using the Enmeez, is that I would need to allow for time for my body to get used to the new method. Several people warned that it took them multiple uses, before they started seeing consistent results. That means, I'd have a period of unsuccessful BP days, which could entail lots of additional digital stimulation needed, and the threat of having accidents.
The fourth thing she suggested was trying a new medication called "Vasculera", which is an FDA approved "medical food for the dietary management of the metabolic processes of chronic venous insufficiency, one of the underlying causes of hemorrhoids." She said she wasn't sure how expensive it was, of if insurance (Medicaid/Medicare) would cover it, but gave me one sample and a coupon to try it. She said it doesn't have any known adverse side effects, and it could help the decrease the AD a bit. That was her most appealing and easiest suggestion.
Her last suggested option was getting a colostomy. She said, since I hated having BP so much that I should consider it. I gave her my long laundry list of reasons as to why it is not something I'd consider (see previous blogs). She poopooed (no pun intended- ok maybe intended) each of my reasons, as if they were no big deal. She went on to tell me about several patients she had performed colostomies on, and proceeded to show me several different bag styles. She said of all her patients, only one women ended up hating hers and asked for it to be reversed. Again, I stressed the fact that I'd still need to get the mucous buildup digitally removed. She said not necessarily. I pointed out the fact that I didn't want to be able to pass gas through two openings. She fluffed that fact off, saying it hardly happens.
She then continued to go on, and on how "since you have some arm function, you might even be able to apply, or remove peel and stick style bags yourself- if you had the right help." She rummaged through her cabinet to find an example. I pointed out that I have no wrist, hand or finger control or movement. She replied, "yes, but with adaptive equipment and the right help (perhaps a good occupational therapist) you might be able to do some of the care yourself." By that point, I was getting frustrated and had heard enough.
I just don't get some doctors (or people in general). Can someone please explain to me, what is the f*%#ing point of going through the trouble of having SOMEONE else strap on an adaptive handcuff, so I can "maybe" tear off a bag of my own feces, only to then need that same person to then have to hand me a clean bag, that I can "maybe" reattach to ANOTHER ARTIFICIAL hole in the side of my body?! Number one, who the f&$# am I supposed be fooling; myself or my "assistant"? I'd still need help with every step of the process, down to the fact that someone else would need to strap the damn adaptive device to my hand. Number two, someone else would still be smelling and cleaning up after MY poop! What is the point of going through five extra steps, to have to have help with each step. Only a deluded person would call that "independence" or "self sufficient." It's a damn joke! It's like saying "I can feed myself." Sure, if someone else prepares my food, puts in n a plate, cuts in up, puts my adaptive hand cuff with fork on my wrist, sits me at a table, puts a plate guard on my plate, and places said plate in front on me; then, and only then, I can pierce the food with fork and get it into my mouth. In the time it takes to set up that ridiculous charade my foods cold, and I could've easily been fed, and finished eating.
I tried really hard to keep my cool. I did mention the fact that I'd still need assistance. No matter how you slice it, colostomy or BP I need other people involved in handling my feces. How hard is that to comprehend? The whole point, is I am a private person. I don't want other people knowing when and how I poop; or urinate for that matter. I'm sick and tired of needing people for every tiny, minuscule detail of my daily life. I'm fed up with having people in my face, touching me, invading my personal space. I don't want to be fed, clothed, bathed, poked, prodded and everything else in-between. I just want a NORMAL life, of independence and privacy. Paralysis FORCES me to accept help and I hate it! I'm especially tired of hearing about how other people live this way. Yeah, and you know what? A good majority of them are as tired, and disgusted as I am. We are stuck, with limited choices. It's take it or leave it. I'm very close to leaving it.
Like I've said a million times before, "live a few days in my shoes, and then get back to me, on how I SHOULD live, and what I SHOULD do." Until you manage to do that (by the way, I wouldn't seriously wish my condition on my worst enemy), please spare me your critiques and judgement. In the meantime, I'm going to try the Vasculera and discuss the Enmeez with my one nurse. I just lost two of my regular nurses for most of July and August. My BP schedule for July is still half empty, so I'm hesitant to start a completely new regimen. I think I might wait until I know I'm going to have a consistent schedule, with nurses I trust.
I did ask the surgeon about the bentyl (for my IBS) my physiatrist suggested. I had mentioned it to my regular physician this past Tuesday, and he said it could cause constipation. He advised I wait until I go see the GI. I called the GI I saw back in November (in the hospital), to schedule an endoscopy, but he no longer accepts Medcaid/Medicare. So I have to find someone new to see. The surgeon said she wouldn't recommend bentyl, saying she didn't think it was effective. So I'll have to wait and see about any suggestions for the IBS until I follow up with the GI.
Related links-
1. http://www.gastroendonews.com/ViewArticle.aspx?d=FDA%2BUpdate%2B%26amp%3B%2BProduct%2BNews&d_id=183&i=March%2B2011&i_id=715&a_id=16840
2. http://www.enemeez.com/ct/store/productInfo_mini_plus.asp
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Sunday, June 19, 2011
My Life Revolves Around Shit
Many of you that read my blogs, know that I struggle A LOT with bathroom related issues. Thanks to my accident, I've been living as a high level (C4/C5 complete) quadriplegic, for the last six years. I have no functional mobility whatsoever, and rely on help for EVERY aspect of my daily life. To complicate matters, I have a diagnosis of having irritable bowel syndrome (IBS), since before my injury. I'm honestly not sure if my IBS is still (considering my injury has left me with a "neurogenic" bowel and bladder) contributing to my daily woes, and discomfort, but am anxious to get some answers.
My regular doctor, and doctors I've seen at the hospital, only ever postulate and hypothesize, based on my theories, and descriptions, but never seem to have clear cut answers, or definitive reasons for why I'm so uncomfortable, and sick, so often. I realize that the fact that I can no longer directly feel what's causing my symptoms, makes it difficult for my doctors to draw conclusions, or pinpoint things, but honestly I feel like the vast majority of the time, they can't give me answers because they don't understand the nature of spinal cord injuries, and its effects on the body in general. I feel like, most times my doctors are treating me, like they would the average able-bodied person, and that is why I'm not getting any answers, or finding any relief. I'm not average, and my body no longer works according to the "normal" rules of science.
My spinal cord injury has severed the connection between brain and body. The messages I do receive are messed up, mangled and chaotic. When my body experiences pain or discomfort below my injury, it responds by signaling me with autonomic dysreflexic (AD) symptoms. AD symptoms vary (headache, sweating, chills, cold sweats, tingling, phantom pain, chest pressure, muscle spasms & fevers), but on the whole, I've come to recognize them, and have a handful of common known triggers. AD episodes can be life threatening, because quite often, my body reacts to pain I can't feel, by elevating my blood pressure. The elevation in blood pressure, is what creates the secondary symptoms, like sweating, headache and chills. When I begin to feel symptomatic, I know to ask for help, to try and alleviate the cause of the pain (such as my catheter being pinched, or my clothing being wrinkled). Gone unchecked, and unresolved AD can lead to stroke and/or death.
Unfortunately, one of the biggest causes of AD for me, is my bowels. I am stuck in a vicious cycle, of never ending discomfort, and pain. My spinal cord injury, and my paralysis have made me a literal prisoner to my body, and its needs. I must eat to survive. Likewise my body must expel waste. Normally, it's not something the average person puts much thought into, or has cause for distress. For me, I feel as though I have become a slave, and prisoner to the simplest of bodily functions. There is no escaping it. It has become so troublesome and uncomfortable for me, that something that is normally simple, private, and in the back of the mind, has instead become the center for which, my life revolves around and is dictated by. It is awful.
My paralysis leaves me with so few choices, none of which are pleasant. I must eat to live; that is a given. I must go to the bathroom; that too is a given. However, nothing in my life is that simple, because I cannot do anything on my own. I need help for everything, including eating and yes, even shitting. For the past six years, I've endured having a bowel program (BP), in order to get rid of the waste I must expel, in order to keep living. It's an awful ordeal, that involves a nurse manually removing stool from body, every other morning. Since I no longer feel the sensation of needing to "go," or the ability to bring myself to the bathroom, or even the ability to "push" it out, those ordinarily natural processes must be FORCED into action.
In order for me to go to the bathroom (shit), my nurse needs to insert a suppository, and digitally stimulate my rectum into going. I'm forced into sitting, strapped to a commode for one to two hours, while my nurse manually stimulates, checks, and rechecks my colon, every ten to twenty minutes, depending on how quickly I go (depends on amount, and consistency). Although I can't feel the digital stimulation directly, it creates AD symptoms. The process is both physically, and emotionally taxing. Every time my nurse checks me, it sends a chill up my spine, creates goosebumps, sweating, and discomfort (sometimes accompanied by chest pressure and nausea). On top of which, my overall condition and constant stimulation, has created chronic hemorrhoids. Again, even though I don't feel the pain of the hemorrhoids directly, I'm positive they contribute to my daily bouts of AD.
The frequency of having a bowel program, depends on the individual. When I was initially injured, I had to have it every night (policy at the nursing home I lived at). They made me do it in bed, after my showers, laying on my side. It was disgusting, painful (for my shoulders) and I hated it. Since moving to my own place, I switched to having it done every other morning, on the commode (over my toilet). Although it has been a big improvement, being able to do it over the toilet (in the privacy of my own bathroom- as opposed to in a bed, in the same room as my roommate) and before getting showered, it is still uncomfortable, and far from ideal. Needing to have ANYONE help me in the bathroom, or with personal hygiene has been horrific, and has never gotten any easier to deal with.
Unfortunately, I don't think I could get away with having it any less than I already do. I know a couple of people (with similar injuries) that do their BP every three days. I wish I could do that. The thing is, I suffer from AD symptoms every day; having several episodes each day (sometimes the symptoms last for hours- like sweating, chest pressure and chills). I've already ruled out a million more serious possible causes, through testing (EKG, ultrasounds, CAT scans, blood work & X-rays). Ninety five percent of the time, I have someone check me for visible problems, and we come up empty. That leaves me thinking that most, if not all of my AD is caused by something to do with my lower hemisphere. I know for sure that my hemorrhoids and gas are two big culprits; neither of which I can do much about.
I wonder if my IBS still has an impact on my body. No one has been able to give me a definitive answer. I'm going to see my physiatrist on Tuesday, in hopes of getting some clear cut answers. I know when I was on my feet, I went to the bathroom every day (sometimes several times). If my colon is still spastic, it could certainly explain why I'm dysreflexic so often. That said, even if she tells me, "Yes Christina, your IBS could be creating AD and offer an explanation as to why it's been so difficult for you to regulate your BP" it doesn't really offer me any relief. I don't know exactly what I expect for my physiatrist to tell me, except if my theory is right, or wrong. Either way, I'm pretty much stuck with the situation I have. I guess I just want to hear her say (essentially) whether I'm screwed, or not, and if she has any suggestions that I haven't yet tried (doubtful).
I've tried taking probiotics to help with my IBS, and prescription medication; neither did anything. I've tried pinpointing food triggers, but am never successful. The only definite trigger for my IBS flaring up, when I was still on my feet, was anxiety. I can't say that I've noticed a definitive correlation, since my injury. Given my condition, and everything I have to deal with on a daily basis, I'm pretty much ALWAYS under a high amount of stress and anxiety. Not to mention, my AD has seemingly gotten worse, and more frequent, as time has gone on. I would've thought if stress and anxiety alone were the causes, I would've had more issues when I was newly injured.
That leaves me thinking that my body has gotten to the point where it wants to "go" every day, and that's why my AD has gotten to be so unbearable. If that's the case, it would also account for why I have occasional "accidents", despite successful having BP (or why it's often hard to regulate at all-despite taking consistent bowel related medication and eating healthy). As it is, I've already had DOZENS of nurses have to help me with BP, over the past six years. Every time I lose a nurse and have to train a new one, it is stressful, and traumatic. I absolutely abhor BP, and dread it. Every other night, I'm full of anxiety and despair, knowing I have to do it the following morning. I've gotten to the point where, even if my body is demanding to go every day, I just can't handle it emotionally. This past year, I've gone through several nurses (I use an agency called Bayada- Medicare covers the sessions) due to circumstances outside of my control. In fact, tomorrow and Thursday I'll be meeting new nurses, because two of my regular nurses won't be here in July (personal reasons & vacation). That's two more people that have to see me naked, touch me and witness me going to the bathroom. I'm dreading it, and wish I could say "No! Go away and leave me alone."
Paralysis doesn't let me say "no." It doesn't leave me with many choices. I need to go to the bathroom, in order to live. I need help, in order to go to the bathroom. Knowing I'm going to be training with TWO new nurses, has just added salt to my wounds. Some people have asked me, "Why don't you just hire a private duty nurse, and not use a nursing agency?" One, my nurses technically are "private duty." The agency assigns them to my case, and Medicare covers the set three hour block of time, every other day. Two, in order for Medicare to pay for the service, it has to be done by a qualified nurse. I can't just pluck someone off the street and train them, like with my aides. A bowel program (at least in NJ) is considered to be a treatment, which involves "skilled nursing care." Having a nursing agency on my case, makes the most sense, because if a nurse quits, calls out sick, goes on vacation, moves, or has a family emergency (which have all happened to me already), there are backup nurses that are already trained. I have to have BP, regardless of my nurse's situation, therefore I can't afford not to have a backup in place. It's a necessary evil.
I have two options on the table. One, I can stick with accepting a BP: which involves nurses, which I hate which is long, which relies on a schedule, which is physically and emotionally taxing, and which is highly intrusive and invasive. Two, I can get a colostomy. I've mentioned in previous blogs why I don't want to even consider a colostomy. To me, it's not even an option worth mentioning. As much as I despise the idea of getting a colostomy, and have sworn to myself I'd never get one, the AD and BP are really wearing me down. I honestly don't know how long I can keep living this way.
Out of desperation, I decided to look even deeper (than I already have in the past) into what it would be like to get the colostomy. So many people have irritated me, by making it seem like getting one is such an "easy" decision, and better option. Sure, it's easy for OTHERS to flippantly suggest I undergo ANOTHER surgery. It's easy, when YOU aren't the one getting sliced open. It's easy when you aren't the one that will have to live every day, for THE REST of your life, with a bag of shit strapped to your side. It's easy, for the able-bodied people, who have told me about their personal experiences with having HAD (key word- their colostomies were eventually reversed- once I do it, the likelihood of going back to having a BP, is slim to none) a colostomy. It's easy for all the quads who talk about having one, that CAN TAKE CARE OF IT INDEPENDENTLY.
The more I've read about colostomies, the more I've discovered as to why, it would NOT be a better option for me. First, I would need to undergo surgery, which would require several days in the hospital, afterwards for recovery. The absolute LAST place I want to be at this point, is in the hospital. There is no guarantee that a colostomy would alleviate my AD. I'd be creating ANOTHER artificial opening in my body (in addition to my suprapubic catheter), that would need to be maintained, and could become infected. The bottom line is, I'd STILL need help with going to the bathroom. I'd need a nurse to clean the stoma, change the bags, and/or irrigate it. No matter what I do, someone else has to handle, and clean up after MY shit. It's not like the colostomy would care for itself.
As much as I hate BP, at least it's over and done with, in a set amount of time. Yes, I do occasionally have episodes of incontinence. However, from what I've read, there is nothing to guarantee that I wouldn't have accidents with a colostomy. One, the bags can bust or leak (as I've had happen with the catheter). I'd need help cleaning that up. Two, even though they'd be re-routing my colon, mucous builds up in the rectum, and needs to be digitally removed (at least once a month- most people fail to mention, or know about this). Three, did I mention, I'd have a bag of shit strapped to me, all day, every day?! Four, some people do "cap off" their stomas and prefer not to wear bags, instead they essentially flush the stool out (similar to an enema, but through the stoma). However this only works once your body has acclimated to having the colostomy (which depends on the individual and can be effected by diet). The other catch, is that this capping off can create AD (since gas and stool build up) and also tends to lead to more frequent accidents. Even the irrigation process itself, could potentially create AD. Not to mention, like I pointed out earlier, someone else would need to be doing all of the care for me.
So basically, I'd be taking a huge gamble, with the high probability of having to deal with most of the problems that I already have with BP. Only, I'd have the added nuisance of having another artificial hole, need to get (and rely on) more medical supplies, and have another bag of bodily waste strapped to me. I'd still need to have help in that area, and have strangers in my business. There's just no avoiding that. Instead of being embarrassed about wearing Depends, I'll be embarrassed by the bag. Oh, and did I mention the added "treat" I discovered about having a colostomy?! You pass gas out of your side, in addition to your ass. Lovely! Double the embarrassment, lack of control and shame. Thanks, but no thanks. It looks like I'm stuck with BP.
My regular doctor, and doctors I've seen at the hospital, only ever postulate and hypothesize, based on my theories, and descriptions, but never seem to have clear cut answers, or definitive reasons for why I'm so uncomfortable, and sick, so often. I realize that the fact that I can no longer directly feel what's causing my symptoms, makes it difficult for my doctors to draw conclusions, or pinpoint things, but honestly I feel like the vast majority of the time, they can't give me answers because they don't understand the nature of spinal cord injuries, and its effects on the body in general. I feel like, most times my doctors are treating me, like they would the average able-bodied person, and that is why I'm not getting any answers, or finding any relief. I'm not average, and my body no longer works according to the "normal" rules of science.
My spinal cord injury has severed the connection between brain and body. The messages I do receive are messed up, mangled and chaotic. When my body experiences pain or discomfort below my injury, it responds by signaling me with autonomic dysreflexic (AD) symptoms. AD symptoms vary (headache, sweating, chills, cold sweats, tingling, phantom pain, chest pressure, muscle spasms & fevers), but on the whole, I've come to recognize them, and have a handful of common known triggers. AD episodes can be life threatening, because quite often, my body reacts to pain I can't feel, by elevating my blood pressure. The elevation in blood pressure, is what creates the secondary symptoms, like sweating, headache and chills. When I begin to feel symptomatic, I know to ask for help, to try and alleviate the cause of the pain (such as my catheter being pinched, or my clothing being wrinkled). Gone unchecked, and unresolved AD can lead to stroke and/or death.
Unfortunately, one of the biggest causes of AD for me, is my bowels. I am stuck in a vicious cycle, of never ending discomfort, and pain. My spinal cord injury, and my paralysis have made me a literal prisoner to my body, and its needs. I must eat to survive. Likewise my body must expel waste. Normally, it's not something the average person puts much thought into, or has cause for distress. For me, I feel as though I have become a slave, and prisoner to the simplest of bodily functions. There is no escaping it. It has become so troublesome and uncomfortable for me, that something that is normally simple, private, and in the back of the mind, has instead become the center for which, my life revolves around and is dictated by. It is awful.
My paralysis leaves me with so few choices, none of which are pleasant. I must eat to live; that is a given. I must go to the bathroom; that too is a given. However, nothing in my life is that simple, because I cannot do anything on my own. I need help for everything, including eating and yes, even shitting. For the past six years, I've endured having a bowel program (BP), in order to get rid of the waste I must expel, in order to keep living. It's an awful ordeal, that involves a nurse manually removing stool from body, every other morning. Since I no longer feel the sensation of needing to "go," or the ability to bring myself to the bathroom, or even the ability to "push" it out, those ordinarily natural processes must be FORCED into action.
In order for me to go to the bathroom (shit), my nurse needs to insert a suppository, and digitally stimulate my rectum into going. I'm forced into sitting, strapped to a commode for one to two hours, while my nurse manually stimulates, checks, and rechecks my colon, every ten to twenty minutes, depending on how quickly I go (depends on amount, and consistency). Although I can't feel the digital stimulation directly, it creates AD symptoms. The process is both physically, and emotionally taxing. Every time my nurse checks me, it sends a chill up my spine, creates goosebumps, sweating, and discomfort (sometimes accompanied by chest pressure and nausea). On top of which, my overall condition and constant stimulation, has created chronic hemorrhoids. Again, even though I don't feel the pain of the hemorrhoids directly, I'm positive they contribute to my daily bouts of AD.
The frequency of having a bowel program, depends on the individual. When I was initially injured, I had to have it every night (policy at the nursing home I lived at). They made me do it in bed, after my showers, laying on my side. It was disgusting, painful (for my shoulders) and I hated it. Since moving to my own place, I switched to having it done every other morning, on the commode (over my toilet). Although it has been a big improvement, being able to do it over the toilet (in the privacy of my own bathroom- as opposed to in a bed, in the same room as my roommate) and before getting showered, it is still uncomfortable, and far from ideal. Needing to have ANYONE help me in the bathroom, or with personal hygiene has been horrific, and has never gotten any easier to deal with.
Unfortunately, I don't think I could get away with having it any less than I already do. I know a couple of people (with similar injuries) that do their BP every three days. I wish I could do that. The thing is, I suffer from AD symptoms every day; having several episodes each day (sometimes the symptoms last for hours- like sweating, chest pressure and chills). I've already ruled out a million more serious possible causes, through testing (EKG, ultrasounds, CAT scans, blood work & X-rays). Ninety five percent of the time, I have someone check me for visible problems, and we come up empty. That leaves me thinking that most, if not all of my AD is caused by something to do with my lower hemisphere. I know for sure that my hemorrhoids and gas are two big culprits; neither of which I can do much about.
I wonder if my IBS still has an impact on my body. No one has been able to give me a definitive answer. I'm going to see my physiatrist on Tuesday, in hopes of getting some clear cut answers. I know when I was on my feet, I went to the bathroom every day (sometimes several times). If my colon is still spastic, it could certainly explain why I'm dysreflexic so often. That said, even if she tells me, "Yes Christina, your IBS could be creating AD and offer an explanation as to why it's been so difficult for you to regulate your BP" it doesn't really offer me any relief. I don't know exactly what I expect for my physiatrist to tell me, except if my theory is right, or wrong. Either way, I'm pretty much stuck with the situation I have. I guess I just want to hear her say (essentially) whether I'm screwed, or not, and if she has any suggestions that I haven't yet tried (doubtful).
I've tried taking probiotics to help with my IBS, and prescription medication; neither did anything. I've tried pinpointing food triggers, but am never successful. The only definite trigger for my IBS flaring up, when I was still on my feet, was anxiety. I can't say that I've noticed a definitive correlation, since my injury. Given my condition, and everything I have to deal with on a daily basis, I'm pretty much ALWAYS under a high amount of stress and anxiety. Not to mention, my AD has seemingly gotten worse, and more frequent, as time has gone on. I would've thought if stress and anxiety alone were the causes, I would've had more issues when I was newly injured.
That leaves me thinking that my body has gotten to the point where it wants to "go" every day, and that's why my AD has gotten to be so unbearable. If that's the case, it would also account for why I have occasional "accidents", despite successful having BP (or why it's often hard to regulate at all-despite taking consistent bowel related medication and eating healthy). As it is, I've already had DOZENS of nurses have to help me with BP, over the past six years. Every time I lose a nurse and have to train a new one, it is stressful, and traumatic. I absolutely abhor BP, and dread it. Every other night, I'm full of anxiety and despair, knowing I have to do it the following morning. I've gotten to the point where, even if my body is demanding to go every day, I just can't handle it emotionally. This past year, I've gone through several nurses (I use an agency called Bayada- Medicare covers the sessions) due to circumstances outside of my control. In fact, tomorrow and Thursday I'll be meeting new nurses, because two of my regular nurses won't be here in July (personal reasons & vacation). That's two more people that have to see me naked, touch me and witness me going to the bathroom. I'm dreading it, and wish I could say "No! Go away and leave me alone."
Paralysis doesn't let me say "no." It doesn't leave me with many choices. I need to go to the bathroom, in order to live. I need help, in order to go to the bathroom. Knowing I'm going to be training with TWO new nurses, has just added salt to my wounds. Some people have asked me, "Why don't you just hire a private duty nurse, and not use a nursing agency?" One, my nurses technically are "private duty." The agency assigns them to my case, and Medicare covers the set three hour block of time, every other day. Two, in order for Medicare to pay for the service, it has to be done by a qualified nurse. I can't just pluck someone off the street and train them, like with my aides. A bowel program (at least in NJ) is considered to be a treatment, which involves "skilled nursing care." Having a nursing agency on my case, makes the most sense, because if a nurse quits, calls out sick, goes on vacation, moves, or has a family emergency (which have all happened to me already), there are backup nurses that are already trained. I have to have BP, regardless of my nurse's situation, therefore I can't afford not to have a backup in place. It's a necessary evil.
I have two options on the table. One, I can stick with accepting a BP: which involves nurses, which I hate which is long, which relies on a schedule, which is physically and emotionally taxing, and which is highly intrusive and invasive. Two, I can get a colostomy. I've mentioned in previous blogs why I don't want to even consider a colostomy. To me, it's not even an option worth mentioning. As much as I despise the idea of getting a colostomy, and have sworn to myself I'd never get one, the AD and BP are really wearing me down. I honestly don't know how long I can keep living this way.
Out of desperation, I decided to look even deeper (than I already have in the past) into what it would be like to get the colostomy. So many people have irritated me, by making it seem like getting one is such an "easy" decision, and better option. Sure, it's easy for OTHERS to flippantly suggest I undergo ANOTHER surgery. It's easy, when YOU aren't the one getting sliced open. It's easy when you aren't the one that will have to live every day, for THE REST of your life, with a bag of shit strapped to your side. It's easy, for the able-bodied people, who have told me about their personal experiences with having HAD (key word- their colostomies were eventually reversed- once I do it, the likelihood of going back to having a BP, is slim to none) a colostomy. It's easy for all the quads who talk about having one, that CAN TAKE CARE OF IT INDEPENDENTLY.
The more I've read about colostomies, the more I've discovered as to why, it would NOT be a better option for me. First, I would need to undergo surgery, which would require several days in the hospital, afterwards for recovery. The absolute LAST place I want to be at this point, is in the hospital. There is no guarantee that a colostomy would alleviate my AD. I'd be creating ANOTHER artificial opening in my body (in addition to my suprapubic catheter), that would need to be maintained, and could become infected. The bottom line is, I'd STILL need help with going to the bathroom. I'd need a nurse to clean the stoma, change the bags, and/or irrigate it. No matter what I do, someone else has to handle, and clean up after MY shit. It's not like the colostomy would care for itself.
As much as I hate BP, at least it's over and done with, in a set amount of time. Yes, I do occasionally have episodes of incontinence. However, from what I've read, there is nothing to guarantee that I wouldn't have accidents with a colostomy. One, the bags can bust or leak (as I've had happen with the catheter). I'd need help cleaning that up. Two, even though they'd be re-routing my colon, mucous builds up in the rectum, and needs to be digitally removed (at least once a month- most people fail to mention, or know about this). Three, did I mention, I'd have a bag of shit strapped to me, all day, every day?! Four, some people do "cap off" their stomas and prefer not to wear bags, instead they essentially flush the stool out (similar to an enema, but through the stoma). However this only works once your body has acclimated to having the colostomy (which depends on the individual and can be effected by diet). The other catch, is that this capping off can create AD (since gas and stool build up) and also tends to lead to more frequent accidents. Even the irrigation process itself, could potentially create AD. Not to mention, like I pointed out earlier, someone else would need to be doing all of the care for me.
So basically, I'd be taking a huge gamble, with the high probability of having to deal with most of the problems that I already have with BP. Only, I'd have the added nuisance of having another artificial hole, need to get (and rely on) more medical supplies, and have another bag of bodily waste strapped to me. I'd still need to have help in that area, and have strangers in my business. There's just no avoiding that. Instead of being embarrassed about wearing Depends, I'll be embarrassed by the bag. Oh, and did I mention the added "treat" I discovered about having a colostomy?! You pass gas out of your side, in addition to your ass. Lovely! Double the embarrassment, lack of control and shame. Thanks, but no thanks. It looks like I'm stuck with BP.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Why Getting a Colostomy is NOT an Option
It's hard to explain (more than I've already spelled out in my blog about IBS), why a colostomy would be so horrible. I recently posted my last blog (about my decision to no longer take antibiotics, and creating a DNR) on the Care Cure Forums. Many of the men on there responded, in bewilderment over why I'd rather die, than get a colostomy, which could possibly alleviate some of the AD symptoms, which plague me, on a daily basis. For me, the question boils down to "quality" versus "quantity" of life. In my mind, based on my standards, for myself, my personal struggles, preferences, and wants, getting a colostomy would not improve MY definition, of a quality life, it would lower it. Given my current situation, and the way I define quality, for myself, the bar is already set very low, because of my extreme paralysis. Getting a colostomy MIGHT (let's keep in mind there's no guarantee) alleviate some of my physical suffering, but I am CERTAIN it would add to my emotional suffering. The decision NOT to get a colostomy, is a no brainer for me, for many, many reasons. It has been one of the two things I have absolutely refused to consider (that and a tracheotomy), since day one of my injury.
Sometimes, I think men are more laid back, and accepting about bodily functions, fluids, and modesty, in general. What you have to understand, about me, is that I had bathroom issues before my SCI. I have deep rooted feelings of shame & embarrassment, revolving around the need to go to the bathroom (number two). I couldn't use public bathrooms, or go at other people's houses. Having IBS complicated matters, and I would tolerate tremendous amounts of pain, holding it in, because I couldn't bear the thought (embarrassment) over going, and having other people know about it. I know that's illogical, and that it's a natural human function. However, my brain also tells me it's disgusting, unladylike, and I have always felt the compulsion to hide the fact that I do it. I have always been extremely critical of myself, and often hold myself to unrealistically high ideals, to be a perfect person. Having a SCI and being paralyzed has been my own personal hell. It has forced me to reveal every minute flaw, from acne, to bodily fluids, to poop, to my naked body, flab, hair in places I don't want, etc. The list goes on and on. Everything I used to work hard to perfect, through exercise, diet, grooming, makeup, and in the PRIVACY of MY own bathroom, by MYSELF, I'm now FORCED into sharing with others, and are exposed, for all to see.
I have been self conscious about my weight, and my looks, my entire life. I've always felt the need to be perfect; to look like the women in magazines; to be the best in everything I do; best in class; best teacher; best artist; best daughter; best friend and so on, and so forth. Although I know I'm only human, just like everyone else, when I was on my feet, at least I could deal with my humanly imperfections, and flaws, in private. I had the luxury of being able to create, and mold myself into the best possible version of myself, through hard work. I had control, over handling and tackling my flaws, my way, by myself. Paralysis has robbed me of my control, and my privacy. It has been hell.
I was never comfortable in my own skin. I was always working to improve myself. At the time of my accident, I had already scheduled a cosmetic procedure, to enhance my looks; to be a better me. My accident happened three weeks, before surgery, and it never got done. It still bothers me, and I still feel lacking. In fact, my SCI has made me feel uglier, and more flawed than ever. It's robbed me of the ability to exercise, and tone my muscles. It's left me flabby, full of scars. I can no longer take care of myself (hair, makeup, nails, skin, etc) the way I used to. Having to have other people, help me with those things, that SHOULD be private, has been awful. The worst aspects, of paralysis, and not being able to care for myself, by far, has been anything, and everything related to the bathroom, and my body. The more, foul, and disgusting, the more embarrassment, and shame I feel; the more violated I feel.
Having to have other adults, see my nude body (people that I'd otherwise, NEVER reveal myself too- like my mother, adult siblings, countless aides, friends, nurses and doctors) and have to touch, and help me, and WITNESS my urine, blood, spit, poop, boogers, vomit, and pimples, is horrifying to me. I feel like paralysis has stripped me, of my basic human rights, to care for myself, and keep my self respect, and dignity. I HATE every single time I need to expose myself, and my flaws. I SHOULD at the very least, have the control, and privacy, to handle my body, and all of it's flaws and functions, as a self sufficient adult. It's not normal, or right, that paralysis FORCES me to reveal all my insecurities. Every human being is entitled to privacy, however paralysis has made that impossible for me. Living with paralysis, has imposed countless, uncomfortable, emotionally, and physically painful limitations on me, that leave me with no choice, but to accept, being violated, and continually exposed.
The thought of having to undergo another surgery, and have ANOTHER false, oriphus cut into my body, is unacceptable. I know the pain, and embarrassment that my catheter causes me. It is revolting, and I hate it. It is unnatural, and leaves me susceptible to chronic infection, and in and of itself, has been a source of sickness, and physical discomfort. I absolutely refuse, to do the same, with the single most repulsive bodily function (in my opinion) possible. I will not live with a bag of feces strapped to my side. I'd do ANYTHING to NOT have to "go" in the first place. Being perpetually attached to a bag of shit, to me, is the ultimate submission of self respect. If that is where I'm at, in life, that I must stoop to that low, to extend my life, then life itself is not worth living.
I have endured unconscionable compromises, in these last six years, for the sake of living, but at what cost? I am miserable. I hate paralysis. I hate feeling violated. I hate having little, to no control over my privacy, my health, and my body. I have suffered with loss on such a massive scale, that no one should ever have to suffer. My body and mind are rejecting this unnatural life. I will not submit anymore. I have suffered enough. I have (and continue to) accepted help, to be fed, clothed, and bathed, to endure bowel program (getting routinely sodomized- for lack of a better description), take dozens of pills every day and have a catheter. At what point, am I allowed to say, enough, is enough? I see very little quality, in the life paralysis has forced on me. I will not bend any lower. I will not compromise any further.
I'm tired of living a lie. I am not happy. I will never be satisfied with THIS life, because of ALL the compromise, and lack of privacy. I don't think I'm being unreasonable, for wanting BASIC human rights, and abilities. I don't think it's illogical, or wrong, to want a normal life, to want better for myself, and to have limits, to what I'm willing to accept. I think I've been quite flexible, and rational, these past six years. I understand my limitations, and know the reality of my situation. I know that's it's not done out of malice, but out of care, that people want me to accept, the unacceptable. People want me to live, for them. I'm thinking about living for me. Getting a colostomy is not something I can, or want to have handle living with.
Yes, my decision to forgo taking antibiotics will most likely result in my death. All I'm saying is that, I haven't decided to PROACTIVELY hasten my death, by refusing food/water. I can't control getting, or not getting a UTI, or any other infection. I can control, if I want to fight to live. In that regard, I see no value, in prolonging my own suffering. Just as, getting a colostomy, would serve to extend my life, it would also extend my suffering. No matter how I look at it, living with paralysis, given my physiology (having IBS, needing a catheter, being completely paralyzed, dealing with AD), my personality, and my personal standards, it only equates to suffering. As long as I live, being completely paralyzed, I will continue to suffer, because of my hate of being dependent, lack of privacy, and chronic illness. To me, this life is not worth fighting for anymore.
I'm not saying, I have absolutely nothing worth living for. My loved ones, and the love, support, they give me, and the time we spend together IS most certainly valuable. However, on a whole, living with paralysis is very painful (emotionally and physically). For me, personally, their love and support, is not enough, to counterbalance the immense loss I've endured, and doesn't justify me continuing to live THIS way forever. I'm tired. I don't want to keep extending THIS life. I know that sucks, for my loved ones. I know the pain of loss, better than anyone. It doesn't mean I don't love and appreciate my friends and family. I just feel like I love myself enough, to not want to keep perpetually living a life that is torture. No one has to agree with me, they just have to respect my choice. I'm the one living (or dying) in my shoes. What will happen, will happen. I am at peace with that.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Sometimes, I think men are more laid back, and accepting about bodily functions, fluids, and modesty, in general. What you have to understand, about me, is that I had bathroom issues before my SCI. I have deep rooted feelings of shame & embarrassment, revolving around the need to go to the bathroom (number two). I couldn't use public bathrooms, or go at other people's houses. Having IBS complicated matters, and I would tolerate tremendous amounts of pain, holding it in, because I couldn't bear the thought (embarrassment) over going, and having other people know about it. I know that's illogical, and that it's a natural human function. However, my brain also tells me it's disgusting, unladylike, and I have always felt the compulsion to hide the fact that I do it. I have always been extremely critical of myself, and often hold myself to unrealistically high ideals, to be a perfect person. Having a SCI and being paralyzed has been my own personal hell. It has forced me to reveal every minute flaw, from acne, to bodily fluids, to poop, to my naked body, flab, hair in places I don't want, etc. The list goes on and on. Everything I used to work hard to perfect, through exercise, diet, grooming, makeup, and in the PRIVACY of MY own bathroom, by MYSELF, I'm now FORCED into sharing with others, and are exposed, for all to see.
I have been self conscious about my weight, and my looks, my entire life. I've always felt the need to be perfect; to look like the women in magazines; to be the best in everything I do; best in class; best teacher; best artist; best daughter; best friend and so on, and so forth. Although I know I'm only human, just like everyone else, when I was on my feet, at least I could deal with my humanly imperfections, and flaws, in private. I had the luxury of being able to create, and mold myself into the best possible version of myself, through hard work. I had control, over handling and tackling my flaws, my way, by myself. Paralysis has robbed me of my control, and my privacy. It has been hell.
I was never comfortable in my own skin. I was always working to improve myself. At the time of my accident, I had already scheduled a cosmetic procedure, to enhance my looks; to be a better me. My accident happened three weeks, before surgery, and it never got done. It still bothers me, and I still feel lacking. In fact, my SCI has made me feel uglier, and more flawed than ever. It's robbed me of the ability to exercise, and tone my muscles. It's left me flabby, full of scars. I can no longer take care of myself (hair, makeup, nails, skin, etc) the way I used to. Having to have other people, help me with those things, that SHOULD be private, has been awful. The worst aspects, of paralysis, and not being able to care for myself, by far, has been anything, and everything related to the bathroom, and my body. The more, foul, and disgusting, the more embarrassment, and shame I feel; the more violated I feel.
Having to have other adults, see my nude body (people that I'd otherwise, NEVER reveal myself too- like my mother, adult siblings, countless aides, friends, nurses and doctors) and have to touch, and help me, and WITNESS my urine, blood, spit, poop, boogers, vomit, and pimples, is horrifying to me. I feel like paralysis has stripped me, of my basic human rights, to care for myself, and keep my self respect, and dignity. I HATE every single time I need to expose myself, and my flaws. I SHOULD at the very least, have the control, and privacy, to handle my body, and all of it's flaws and functions, as a self sufficient adult. It's not normal, or right, that paralysis FORCES me to reveal all my insecurities. Every human being is entitled to privacy, however paralysis has made that impossible for me. Living with paralysis, has imposed countless, uncomfortable, emotionally, and physically painful limitations on me, that leave me with no choice, but to accept, being violated, and continually exposed.
The thought of having to undergo another surgery, and have ANOTHER false, oriphus cut into my body, is unacceptable. I know the pain, and embarrassment that my catheter causes me. It is revolting, and I hate it. It is unnatural, and leaves me susceptible to chronic infection, and in and of itself, has been a source of sickness, and physical discomfort. I absolutely refuse, to do the same, with the single most repulsive bodily function (in my opinion) possible. I will not live with a bag of feces strapped to my side. I'd do ANYTHING to NOT have to "go" in the first place. Being perpetually attached to a bag of shit, to me, is the ultimate submission of self respect. If that is where I'm at, in life, that I must stoop to that low, to extend my life, then life itself is not worth living.
I have endured unconscionable compromises, in these last six years, for the sake of living, but at what cost? I am miserable. I hate paralysis. I hate feeling violated. I hate having little, to no control over my privacy, my health, and my body. I have suffered with loss on such a massive scale, that no one should ever have to suffer. My body and mind are rejecting this unnatural life. I will not submit anymore. I have suffered enough. I have (and continue to) accepted help, to be fed, clothed, and bathed, to endure bowel program (getting routinely sodomized- for lack of a better description), take dozens of pills every day and have a catheter. At what point, am I allowed to say, enough, is enough? I see very little quality, in the life paralysis has forced on me. I will not bend any lower. I will not compromise any further.
I'm tired of living a lie. I am not happy. I will never be satisfied with THIS life, because of ALL the compromise, and lack of privacy. I don't think I'm being unreasonable, for wanting BASIC human rights, and abilities. I don't think it's illogical, or wrong, to want a normal life, to want better for myself, and to have limits, to what I'm willing to accept. I think I've been quite flexible, and rational, these past six years. I understand my limitations, and know the reality of my situation. I know that's it's not done out of malice, but out of care, that people want me to accept, the unacceptable. People want me to live, for them. I'm thinking about living for me. Getting a colostomy is not something I can, or want to have handle living with.
Yes, my decision to forgo taking antibiotics will most likely result in my death. All I'm saying is that, I haven't decided to PROACTIVELY hasten my death, by refusing food/water. I can't control getting, or not getting a UTI, or any other infection. I can control, if I want to fight to live. In that regard, I see no value, in prolonging my own suffering. Just as, getting a colostomy, would serve to extend my life, it would also extend my suffering. No matter how I look at it, living with paralysis, given my physiology (having IBS, needing a catheter, being completely paralyzed, dealing with AD), my personality, and my personal standards, it only equates to suffering. As long as I live, being completely paralyzed, I will continue to suffer, because of my hate of being dependent, lack of privacy, and chronic illness. To me, this life is not worth fighting for anymore.
I'm not saying, I have absolutely nothing worth living for. My loved ones, and the love, support, they give me, and the time we spend together IS most certainly valuable. However, on a whole, living with paralysis is very painful (emotionally and physically). For me, personally, their love and support, is not enough, to counterbalance the immense loss I've endured, and doesn't justify me continuing to live THIS way forever. I'm tired. I don't want to keep extending THIS life. I know that sucks, for my loved ones. I know the pain of loss, better than anyone. It doesn't mean I don't love and appreciate my friends and family. I just feel like I love myself enough, to not want to keep perpetually living a life that is torture. No one has to agree with me, they just have to respect my choice. I'm the one living (or dying) in my shoes. What will happen, will happen. I am at peace with that.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Paralyzed Without Joy
An online friend of mine Laurie, recently asked me if I'd read any blog postings, by a woman named Heather, who writes a blog called "Paralyzed With Joy!" Heather had left a comment, on one of my previous posts. I saw the comment that she sent to me, and have to be honest, in that I wrote her off as a religious fanatic, and never visited her blog (until the other day, when Laurie brought it up). I'm ashamed to admit that, because it sounds presumptions and rude of me, and that's not usually how I am. It's wrong of me to judge her for saying that she's "joyful," just like I feel it's wrong for people to judge me, and expect me to be happy. Her comment just rubbed me the wrong way, because I disagree with the notion that "God did this to me." I take full responsibility for my mistake. Perhaps, it's because she was injured, through someone else, slamming into her car, breaking her neck. She wasn't at fault, and I'm guessing finds comfort, in the line of thinking that it all happened as part of "God's plan." I stupidly dove into a shallow pool. My foolish mistake cost me my health, and the life I loved. Although, I didn't intentionally dive, to harm myself, and there were many variables in play, it's my actions that ultimately caused my injury. God didn't push me into the pool, nor do I believe (if such a being exists) he/she/it/they planned this life for me. I don't believe in destiny, or predetermined futures.
I know she didn't intend to offend me, no one ever does, when dishing out religious counseling, or offering up scripture. It's just hard, for me, as a skeptic, and often cynic, to accept. While I am grateful for any feedback I get, it is hard for me to accept, when it's coming from a religious perspective. She's not the first to offer up words of "divine wisdom," nor will she be the last. Though appreciated, I take every word of advice with a grain of salt, because no one but me, has to live in my shoes, and knows my suffering, better than me. As far as religion goes, no one can offer up proof, that their beliefs are truth, you either believe it, or you don't. Personally, I have a hard time believing in a God that would WANT THIS life for me.
Laurie and I met through Facebook. She has MS, and got to know me, by reading my blogs. One day, she decided to write to via Facebook, and shared some of her story with me. Although there is a generation gap between us, we share a lot of interests in common. She was also a teacher. We've been writing emails back and forth for some time now, discussing all sorts of things, like languages, movies, pets, religion, family, friends, and our personal struggles, dealing with our disabilities and adapting to life with paralysis. Right now Laurie still has much more functional movement than me, but is continuingly having to adapt to her degenerative disease. I often wonder if it would've made it any easier on me, if I'd gradually lost my abilities, versus losing everything over night. Either way, paralysis sucks, and we both struggle to find answers for "Why us?" and searching for reasons to keep moving forward, despite it all. It helps having a kindred spirit, to talk to, even if you're each having a rough day. Although it makes me sad to know other people are effected by paralysis, it helps having others to turn to, that know what it's like to need help, and having lost independence. It especially helps having someone to talk to that is like minded, and shares a similar perspective, and attitude, towards THIS lifestyle.
Laurie is like me, in that she is disatified with compromise, and hates the ever growing number of limitations that paralysis has forced upon her. We are both very unhappy with the indignities of paralysis, and would most certainly never describe living with such lack of freedom, and forced dependence as "joyful." The mere name of Heather's blog irritates me. How anyone could possibly be "paralyzed with joy" is beyond me. I can't help but think she's insane, for saying things like "On a scale of one to ten (ten being the most satisfied with life) she is a ten" or six years post spinal cord injury, she's "the happiest she's ever been." On one hand, I want to slap myself, for being so critical, and judgmental. Clearly, I don't know anything about this woman, besides the fact that she is paralyzed, and apparently happy. Who am I to say she should, or shouldn't be happy, just because I have such a hard time coping with the changes in my own life, and hate every aspect of being paralyzed? On the other hand, a part of me is even jealous, that someone in a similar condition to me, could be so happy, when I'm so miserable. I know the secret to her happiness, and understand how it gives her such a rosy perspective on life. The source of her happiness, is something I wish I had, but can't force upon myself, and that is blind faith. I've seen it many, times; people like her, and Joni Erickson Tada, that despite their paralysis, they're able to be happy, and draw strength from God (specifically Jesus, in both of these cases).
I struggle with having faith in any God, let alone any one specific God. Although my accident has stirred up fears about God, and an afterlife, it hasn't helped me make any breakthroughs, or have any great epiphanies. On the contrary, it has put more, and more doubt, in my mind about God, and his/her/it/their supposed interest and/or love for me. As for being joyfully paralyzed, I see that as being a product of her convictions to God, not how extraordinary her life is. Let's face it, no matter how you dice it, paralysis sucks. It is a struggle, living with paralysis every day. I don't believe for a minute that any sane individual would choose to be paralyzed, over being healthy. Paralysis might have opened her eyes, and fostered in her a new appreciation for life, or feelings of being given a "second chance", after coming so close to death, but I guarantee she'd prefer being able to care for herself, over the life she has now. It is her belief in God, that gives her the ability to see purpose and meaning, in her suffering, and that gives her joy, despite being paralyzed.
I wish I could say the same for myself, but I can't. My belief in God is shaky, at best. I tend to lean towards Eastern philosophy, and feel turned off by Christianity. Some of my resistance to Christianity is my own, logical analytical nature, and my finding it hard to believe in a God, that would be as petty, jealous, or harsh, as the God of the Old Testament, and my historical knowledge of how Christianity formed, and how man has corrupted, and influenced all organized religions, in general. Growing up Catholic, the church, and it's rituals always seemed suffocating to me. The mere notion that Jesus is the ONLY path to "salvation" has always pushed me away. I just can't believe in a God that would eternally damn good people, just because they worshiped him/her/it/they by a different name. Logically, I don't even understand the huge rift, between Muslims, Christians, and Jews, given the fact that all worship the same God, and believe in the same prophets. Despite their common roots, and belief systems, people use "God's" name to promote their own selfish, man made agendas, and divide humanity. The more I have learned over time, the less I have come to believe, except for one unifying moral, to love oneself and my fellow man. It's the one idea that makes sense, and stands up to the test of time, throughout all religions, and faiths.
I think of having a strong faith in God, can be as equally powerful as ignorance. Ignorance is bliss. Blind faith is like that, in many ways. No matter how outlandish, or unscientific something is, people with faith believe. Faith is blind, and unquestioning. It also lets people be "blind" to the realities of life, and helps paint a silver lining on everything. At times, that blind aspect of faith can be bad, because it can be used as weapon, to make people do, and say things that hurt others, in the name of "God", or accept situations, no matter how horrible they are. I don't think God (if he/she/it/they exists) would've bothered giving us logic, and reason, if he/she/it/they, didn't want us to sometimes use those abilities to evaluate situations for what they are, and think critically, for ourselves. Likewise, if God gave us freewill, then I believe he/she/it/they is solely an observer, of our lives, and doesn't often intervene (if not, at all). I don't think God "gives" us a bad, or good lot in life. I think we get what we make of it. However, that also means I don't buy into the BS that, "God only gives us what we can handle" and "everything happens for a reason." I think sometimes bad things just happen, and they most certainly are too much for any one person to handle. I many respects, I hate myself, for making the stupid mistake, that paralyzed me. On the other hand, I love myself, enough to feel like living with paralysis, is cruel, and unusual punishment. In my case, my punishment VASTLY outweighs, my mistakes, and I don't think it's wrong for me to be upset about, or not want to have to live the way paralysis has forced me to. If God is watching, he/she/it/they knows how hard my life is, and how much I'm suffering, and I don't think it's fair, or just, for anyone else to judge, either way.
It pisses me off, when people down play their paralysis, because I feel like it's crucial for the average person to understand how hard it is, to live this way. I mean, if life's so grand, why bother finding a cure? I believe the key to gaining support for research, is by touching people's minds and hearts, on a personal level, by putting faces, names, and stories, to the word "paralysis." I believe that every person I touch, by sharing my story, and sharing my pain, is one more person that's aware of possibility that his/her life could change; one more person who cares about finding a cure; and one more person that can better appreciate the health, and abilities he/she still has. Yes, maybe if I had a stronger faith in God, this would all be a bit easier to handle, but that wouldn't diminish the fact that I'm dependent on others, sick and in pain. I don't want people to forget, or overlook the realities of living with paralysis. It's not ok, having to have a bowel program, a catheter, needing to be fed, bathed, and clothed. God, or no God, those are REAL, tangible things, that I'm FORCED to face, every day. Paralysis doesn't give me an option, and I don't get a break. I have to deal with all of that stuff, plus all that I lost, plus the sickness, every second, of every day. Does that mean I never have a joyful moment, or have anything I'm grateful for, of course not. However, reality is that living with paralysis sucks, and I'd give ANYTHING (besides my soul- ironic, I know) to just be healthy again.
I'm skeptical of anyone who says they're "happy" with living with paralysis. Laurie is Jewish, and like I said, I was raised Catholic. Neither of us is very "religious", nor do we blame God for our paralysis. It would be very easy, to put the blame on God, since after all, if such a being exists, and created the universe, space, and time, he/she/it/they could certainly fix something as simple some faulty nerve connections. We both take a more logical, fact based approach to life, and chalk our situations up to bad luck, not some divine plan. Rationally, it's hard to accept that anyone would be thankful, to be paralyzed. It seems against human nature, to WANT, or prefer to be dependent on others, and have a constant invasion of privacy, and personal space. The fact of the matter is, paralysis strips people of freedom, and forces a tremendous amount of change into one's life.
Most people would not want to live this way, by choice. It's not to say, that I don't believe people can find things to make them happy, and give them purpose, despite paralysis. I believe each individual's case is unique, and factors like religious beliefs, level of education, career, financial status, personality, support network, and level of independence before paralysis, play a HUGE role, in how "happy" a person can be, living with paralysis. You can't miss, what you never had, and some people lose a tremendous amount more than others. Suffering should be evaluated on a case, by case basis. Just because one person can find "joy" living with paralysis, that doesn't mean everyone can. I think each individual has the capability, and right, to asses their own level of suffering, versus amount of enjoyment. I don't think everyone can find balance, or the extreme opposite, happiness.
Naturally, Heather is entitled to her line of thinking, and in many respects is lucky, to be able view life, in the manner she does. I think that everyone has their own desires, standards, and threshold for what they can tolerate, and that living with paralysis should not be forced upon people, without escape, in the manner that it is. Living this way, for me, and others like me (Laurie for example) find living with paralysis closer to Hell, than to Heaven. I don't think that makes us weak, or wrong, just as it doesn't necessarily mean extraordinary people like Heather, Christopher Reeve, Joni Erickson Tada, and Dr. Dan Gottlieb, as being "better," or stronger, it just means we're all unique. Life is not like a cookie cutting machine, where one size fits all can apply. I think each person has the right to determine what he/she considers to be quality.
I realize that not everyone agrees with that philosophy, but personally, I feel like in certain situations it is justified, not wanting to live (aka- prolong suffering). For example, I don't want to ever live dependent on a vent. I have been on a vent before, and would prefer death, over ever having to go on one again. I realize that there are people out there that live dependent on vents, that feel happy, and fulfilled. Does that make them superior people? I think it just makes them different. I think everyone should have (and do, to a certain extent- through advanced directives and living wills) the right to determine what they consider to be quality. After all, it's very easy to hand out advice, when you're not the one having to live through it. Some people would disagree, and say that people should go to any lengths possible to extend life, like people hooked up to machines, despite being in a vegetative state (such as the Teri Shiavo case) . I realize this is a hot button issue, that people feel strongly about. I'm merely stating my own personal opinion, given my life experiences.
I personally feel as though I'm at a point of living with paralysis (C4/C5 complete injury), where I feel as though living, is only prolonging my own suffering. I battle myself every day, to keep pushing forward. The thing is, I feel as though my life is being sustained by unnatural means. If I truly left my life "in God's hands", I'd be dead a long time ago, because I have no ability to fend for myself. I'm kept alive by people, medication, and awful treatments (suprapubic catheter & bowel regime). I'm only alive because our society has the means necessary to provide me with all the services and things I need. However, there comes a point (right now, in my case) where one must evaulate if the ends justifies the means. I definitely can not say that I'm "paralyzed with joy." I feel more like a prisoner, than anything, and want nothing more than my healthy body back. I hate being dependent on others, and being chronically sick. I'm glad for people like Heather, in that I don't take pleasure in hearing about other's suffering. It's nice for her, that she is happy, but I can't imagine ever finding that level of enjoyment, or contentment, with having to live with so much pain, and compromise.
"Paralyzed With Joy!" - http://paralyzedwithjoy.blogspot.com/
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I know she didn't intend to offend me, no one ever does, when dishing out religious counseling, or offering up scripture. It's just hard, for me, as a skeptic, and often cynic, to accept. While I am grateful for any feedback I get, it is hard for me to accept, when it's coming from a religious perspective. She's not the first to offer up words of "divine wisdom," nor will she be the last. Though appreciated, I take every word of advice with a grain of salt, because no one but me, has to live in my shoes, and knows my suffering, better than me. As far as religion goes, no one can offer up proof, that their beliefs are truth, you either believe it, or you don't. Personally, I have a hard time believing in a God that would WANT THIS life for me.
Laurie and I met through Facebook. She has MS, and got to know me, by reading my blogs. One day, she decided to write to via Facebook, and shared some of her story with me. Although there is a generation gap between us, we share a lot of interests in common. She was also a teacher. We've been writing emails back and forth for some time now, discussing all sorts of things, like languages, movies, pets, religion, family, friends, and our personal struggles, dealing with our disabilities and adapting to life with paralysis. Right now Laurie still has much more functional movement than me, but is continuingly having to adapt to her degenerative disease. I often wonder if it would've made it any easier on me, if I'd gradually lost my abilities, versus losing everything over night. Either way, paralysis sucks, and we both struggle to find answers for "Why us?" and searching for reasons to keep moving forward, despite it all. It helps having a kindred spirit, to talk to, even if you're each having a rough day. Although it makes me sad to know other people are effected by paralysis, it helps having others to turn to, that know what it's like to need help, and having lost independence. It especially helps having someone to talk to that is like minded, and shares a similar perspective, and attitude, towards THIS lifestyle.
Laurie is like me, in that she is disatified with compromise, and hates the ever growing number of limitations that paralysis has forced upon her. We are both very unhappy with the indignities of paralysis, and would most certainly never describe living with such lack of freedom, and forced dependence as "joyful." The mere name of Heather's blog irritates me. How anyone could possibly be "paralyzed with joy" is beyond me. I can't help but think she's insane, for saying things like "On a scale of one to ten (ten being the most satisfied with life) she is a ten" or six years post spinal cord injury, she's "the happiest she's ever been." On one hand, I want to slap myself, for being so critical, and judgmental. Clearly, I don't know anything about this woman, besides the fact that she is paralyzed, and apparently happy. Who am I to say she should, or shouldn't be happy, just because I have such a hard time coping with the changes in my own life, and hate every aspect of being paralyzed? On the other hand, a part of me is even jealous, that someone in a similar condition to me, could be so happy, when I'm so miserable. I know the secret to her happiness, and understand how it gives her such a rosy perspective on life. The source of her happiness, is something I wish I had, but can't force upon myself, and that is blind faith. I've seen it many, times; people like her, and Joni Erickson Tada, that despite their paralysis, they're able to be happy, and draw strength from God (specifically Jesus, in both of these cases).
I struggle with having faith in any God, let alone any one specific God. Although my accident has stirred up fears about God, and an afterlife, it hasn't helped me make any breakthroughs, or have any great epiphanies. On the contrary, it has put more, and more doubt, in my mind about God, and his/her/it/their supposed interest and/or love for me. As for being joyfully paralyzed, I see that as being a product of her convictions to God, not how extraordinary her life is. Let's face it, no matter how you dice it, paralysis sucks. It is a struggle, living with paralysis every day. I don't believe for a minute that any sane individual would choose to be paralyzed, over being healthy. Paralysis might have opened her eyes, and fostered in her a new appreciation for life, or feelings of being given a "second chance", after coming so close to death, but I guarantee she'd prefer being able to care for herself, over the life she has now. It is her belief in God, that gives her the ability to see purpose and meaning, in her suffering, and that gives her joy, despite being paralyzed.
I wish I could say the same for myself, but I can't. My belief in God is shaky, at best. I tend to lean towards Eastern philosophy, and feel turned off by Christianity. Some of my resistance to Christianity is my own, logical analytical nature, and my finding it hard to believe in a God, that would be as petty, jealous, or harsh, as the God of the Old Testament, and my historical knowledge of how Christianity formed, and how man has corrupted, and influenced all organized religions, in general. Growing up Catholic, the church, and it's rituals always seemed suffocating to me. The mere notion that Jesus is the ONLY path to "salvation" has always pushed me away. I just can't believe in a God that would eternally damn good people, just because they worshiped him/her/it/they by a different name. Logically, I don't even understand the huge rift, between Muslims, Christians, and Jews, given the fact that all worship the same God, and believe in the same prophets. Despite their common roots, and belief systems, people use "God's" name to promote their own selfish, man made agendas, and divide humanity. The more I have learned over time, the less I have come to believe, except for one unifying moral, to love oneself and my fellow man. It's the one idea that makes sense, and stands up to the test of time, throughout all religions, and faiths.
I think of having a strong faith in God, can be as equally powerful as ignorance. Ignorance is bliss. Blind faith is like that, in many ways. No matter how outlandish, or unscientific something is, people with faith believe. Faith is blind, and unquestioning. It also lets people be "blind" to the realities of life, and helps paint a silver lining on everything. At times, that blind aspect of faith can be bad, because it can be used as weapon, to make people do, and say things that hurt others, in the name of "God", or accept situations, no matter how horrible they are. I don't think God (if he/she/it/they exists) would've bothered giving us logic, and reason, if he/she/it/they, didn't want us to sometimes use those abilities to evaluate situations for what they are, and think critically, for ourselves. Likewise, if God gave us freewill, then I believe he/she/it/they is solely an observer, of our lives, and doesn't often intervene (if not, at all). I don't think God "gives" us a bad, or good lot in life. I think we get what we make of it. However, that also means I don't buy into the BS that, "God only gives us what we can handle" and "everything happens for a reason." I think sometimes bad things just happen, and they most certainly are too much for any one person to handle. I many respects, I hate myself, for making the stupid mistake, that paralyzed me. On the other hand, I love myself, enough to feel like living with paralysis, is cruel, and unusual punishment. In my case, my punishment VASTLY outweighs, my mistakes, and I don't think it's wrong for me to be upset about, or not want to have to live the way paralysis has forced me to. If God is watching, he/she/it/they knows how hard my life is, and how much I'm suffering, and I don't think it's fair, or just, for anyone else to judge, either way.
It pisses me off, when people down play their paralysis, because I feel like it's crucial for the average person to understand how hard it is, to live this way. I mean, if life's so grand, why bother finding a cure? I believe the key to gaining support for research, is by touching people's minds and hearts, on a personal level, by putting faces, names, and stories, to the word "paralysis." I believe that every person I touch, by sharing my story, and sharing my pain, is one more person that's aware of possibility that his/her life could change; one more person who cares about finding a cure; and one more person that can better appreciate the health, and abilities he/she still has. Yes, maybe if I had a stronger faith in God, this would all be a bit easier to handle, but that wouldn't diminish the fact that I'm dependent on others, sick and in pain. I don't want people to forget, or overlook the realities of living with paralysis. It's not ok, having to have a bowel program, a catheter, needing to be fed, bathed, and clothed. God, or no God, those are REAL, tangible things, that I'm FORCED to face, every day. Paralysis doesn't give me an option, and I don't get a break. I have to deal with all of that stuff, plus all that I lost, plus the sickness, every second, of every day. Does that mean I never have a joyful moment, or have anything I'm grateful for, of course not. However, reality is that living with paralysis sucks, and I'd give ANYTHING (besides my soul- ironic, I know) to just be healthy again.
I'm skeptical of anyone who says they're "happy" with living with paralysis. Laurie is Jewish, and like I said, I was raised Catholic. Neither of us is very "religious", nor do we blame God for our paralysis. It would be very easy, to put the blame on God, since after all, if such a being exists, and created the universe, space, and time, he/she/it/they could certainly fix something as simple some faulty nerve connections. We both take a more logical, fact based approach to life, and chalk our situations up to bad luck, not some divine plan. Rationally, it's hard to accept that anyone would be thankful, to be paralyzed. It seems against human nature, to WANT, or prefer to be dependent on others, and have a constant invasion of privacy, and personal space. The fact of the matter is, paralysis strips people of freedom, and forces a tremendous amount of change into one's life.
Most people would not want to live this way, by choice. It's not to say, that I don't believe people can find things to make them happy, and give them purpose, despite paralysis. I believe each individual's case is unique, and factors like religious beliefs, level of education, career, financial status, personality, support network, and level of independence before paralysis, play a HUGE role, in how "happy" a person can be, living with paralysis. You can't miss, what you never had, and some people lose a tremendous amount more than others. Suffering should be evaluated on a case, by case basis. Just because one person can find "joy" living with paralysis, that doesn't mean everyone can. I think each individual has the capability, and right, to asses their own level of suffering, versus amount of enjoyment. I don't think everyone can find balance, or the extreme opposite, happiness.
Naturally, Heather is entitled to her line of thinking, and in many respects is lucky, to be able view life, in the manner she does. I think that everyone has their own desires, standards, and threshold for what they can tolerate, and that living with paralysis should not be forced upon people, without escape, in the manner that it is. Living this way, for me, and others like me (Laurie for example) find living with paralysis closer to Hell, than to Heaven. I don't think that makes us weak, or wrong, just as it doesn't necessarily mean extraordinary people like Heather, Christopher Reeve, Joni Erickson Tada, and Dr. Dan Gottlieb, as being "better," or stronger, it just means we're all unique. Life is not like a cookie cutting machine, where one size fits all can apply. I think each person has the right to determine what he/she considers to be quality.
I realize that not everyone agrees with that philosophy, but personally, I feel like in certain situations it is justified, not wanting to live (aka- prolong suffering). For example, I don't want to ever live dependent on a vent. I have been on a vent before, and would prefer death, over ever having to go on one again. I realize that there are people out there that live dependent on vents, that feel happy, and fulfilled. Does that make them superior people? I think it just makes them different. I think everyone should have (and do, to a certain extent- through advanced directives and living wills) the right to determine what they consider to be quality. After all, it's very easy to hand out advice, when you're not the one having to live through it. Some people would disagree, and say that people should go to any lengths possible to extend life, like people hooked up to machines, despite being in a vegetative state (such as the Teri Shiavo case) . I realize this is a hot button issue, that people feel strongly about. I'm merely stating my own personal opinion, given my life experiences.
I personally feel as though I'm at a point of living with paralysis (C4/C5 complete injury), where I feel as though living, is only prolonging my own suffering. I battle myself every day, to keep pushing forward. The thing is, I feel as though my life is being sustained by unnatural means. If I truly left my life "in God's hands", I'd be dead a long time ago, because I have no ability to fend for myself. I'm kept alive by people, medication, and awful treatments (suprapubic catheter & bowel regime). I'm only alive because our society has the means necessary to provide me with all the services and things I need. However, there comes a point (right now, in my case) where one must evaulate if the ends justifies the means. I definitely can not say that I'm "paralyzed with joy." I feel more like a prisoner, than anything, and want nothing more than my healthy body back. I hate being dependent on others, and being chronically sick. I'm glad for people like Heather, in that I don't take pleasure in hearing about other's suffering. It's nice for her, that she is happy, but I can't imagine ever finding that level of enjoyment, or contentment, with having to live with so much pain, and compromise.
"Paralyzed With Joy!" - http://paralyzedwithjoy.blogspot.com/
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
"The Sea Inside"
The other day I watched a very power movie, called "The Sea Inside." It is a Spanish film, that came out in the theaters, back in 2004. The story is based on the true, life story, of a quadriplegic man named Ramon Sampedro. He was injured in a diving accident (very similar injury to my own), off a cliff, nearby his home, into the sea. After his accident, he spent nearly thirty years fighting with the Spanish government, for the right to end his own life. The movie chronicles his uphill battle against the government, in a country, which is highly influenced by Catholic church. It depicts his day to day home life with his family, and caretakers, as well as the development of friendships, with two key women. One woman, named Rosa, is a local, single mother of two, who learns about his plight, through the media coverage of his case. The second woman, is a lawyer, who is battling with a debilitating neurological disorder, and decides to help him win his case, in hopes of securing her own to die, with dignity. Both women come to know, and love him, and end up helping him, in very different ways. In the end, Ramon gets his wish, despite losing the case, for the petition, to legally end his own life. The movie is extremely well written, acted, and touched my heart, and mind on many different levels. It is a story I can completely relate to, and Ramon's view points, and philosophy on life, are very similar to my own. If he were still alive, I'm sure we could talk for hours on end, about the cruelties of paralysis, and how important the quality of life is. I think if there's a heaven, we might become good friends. I'm interested to read his book, which was published shortly before his death, and am inspired by his tenacity and courage.
One of the things that struck me most about the movie, was the interpersonal relationships, between Ramon, and his family members, and the different dynamics each of them shared. It was insightful for me, and hit very close to home, to see the pain and anguish that his family members experienced, do to his injury, and the different way each of them coped, with having to help him, and also each of their varying attitudes, towards his wish to die. An especially poignant scene, is where his ailing father, who is normally very tightlipped, and somber, says something to the effect of "it's hard enough to lose a child; it's worse to watch a child, that wants to die." It's evident how much his father has suffered, watching Ramon suffer, and the feelings of frustration, and inadiquicy that must come along, with not being able to help his son heal. He is also torn between, his two sons, who argue bitterly, over Ramon's injury, and its impact on the family, as a whole. Ramon's older brother Jose, clearly feels resentment over his brother's life, and care being a burden and strain on the family, and yet he is the one most adamantly opposed to his brother's wishes to die. I found it interesting, that although he clearly blamed his brother for having a negative impact on his life, he seemed most affraid, and hesitant to let him go. I can't help but wonder, and compare my own situation, to Ramon's and think about all the stress, tears, and suffering my accident has caused on my family. Despite their spats, it was clear that Ramon was very loved, and well cared for. In fact his sister-in-law, Manuela, serves as his primary caregiver, and doted on him, as if he were her own child.
Ramon's case became a big media blitz, and caused a bit of scandal, given the influence of the Catholic church, and it's roots, into the heritage, and history of the Spanish goverment. One point in the movie, a Catholic priest, who was also quadriplegic, decided to make it his mission, to "save" Ramon, by going to see him, and try to persuade Ramon to change his views on living life, despite paralysis, and publicly suggested that perhaps it was just that Ramon lacked love and compassion, and that his petition for the right to die, was just a cry for help. Naturally, his comments both offended, and deeply hurt his family, whom loved him very much. Like myself, Ramon felt that this life is not a quality life. He believed like me, that it is a second best, compromise of the lives we once had, that strip of us of our freedom, and dignity. He was not happy with settling for life with paralysis, and neither am I.
It is not that I (or Ramon) don't appreciative the love and compassion my family and friends have for me, but love alone is not enough, to take away the physical and emotional pain that comes along with having to live such a limiting, unnatural way of life. Wanting to die, has nothing to do with lacking love, and/or support. Ramon's family was deeply invested and involved in Ramon's overall health, and well being. He had many interested, caring friends. I too have an abundance of love, and support. I am blessed with a strong network, of family, friends, and medical staff, to support me, and provide me with the best possible care, given my condition, and my limitations. I am grateful for the love, and interest my loved ones take in helping me, and being there for me. Unfortunately, love alone, is not enough, to counter balance the physical suffering, emotional trauma, loss of indepedemce, and losing the life I once had. There is nothing, short of a miracle, and/or cure, that can give me back (some of) what I lost, and make up for all the suffering I endure. Neither is very probable, or likely to occur, within the near future (or realistically speaking, even within the next decade.) I understand Ramon's wish to die, and respect his decision.
Its not to say I think all quadriplegics should die, or that their lives aren't worth living. I can only talk for myself, as did Ramon. He was not satisfied with having to endure the indignities that we're forced to face every day, every second. We don't get a break, and all the love in the world doesn't heal this type of injury. It doesn't take away the fevers, the cold sweats, the lack of privacy, or independence. Ramon's attitude was based around the idea, that each individual person has their own threshold for suffering, and while one person might find satisfaction in living dependent on others, and/or machines that, that low standard of quality of living should not be forced upon those of us that have to live it. After all, only Ramon knew what it was like to live in his shoes, and the personal hell that he had to endure, for almost thirty years, against his will. For me, and Ramon, paralysis is worse that being a prisoner. We are being punished, by being forced to live through unnatural means, against our will. That isn't fair, nor is it humane.
I can't speak for other quadriplegics, I can only speak for myself, about my struggles and the physical, and emotional impacts that paralysis has had on my life. I don't judge people who want to live this way, by calling them crazy, for giving in, for settling, for enduring, despite all the pain. I only know what I lost, what memories haunt me, what standards I hold myself to, and what brings me joy and fulfillment. It's easy to judge, when you don't have to deal with a fraction, of what I (or Ramon) went through, and in my case, continue to endure. No one has to sit every day, battling my inner deamons, frustration, disappointment and disgust, over the way I'm forced to live, but me. I think everyone should have the right to determine their own level of worth, and value, in terms of living, versus suffering. Let me worry about my own soul. Let God be my judge, instead of presuming his/hers/its purpose for my life.
Unlike Ramon (who cleverly had a chain of people prepare him a glass of water, mixed with poison, which he ingested, through a straw, on camera), my conscious would never allow me to jeopardize someone else's freedom (by making them criminally liable), or share the burden of the responsibility, for my death, by asking friends, or loved ones, to carry out, my wish to die. If/When the time comes, that I've reached my threshold, and can no longer continue to suffer, as I am, I will choose to excersise my right to refuse nutrition/hydration. It will not be quick, like Ramon's death. It will most likely, be days, or weeks, of slowly waiting to die. Although it might be painful for my loved ones to witness, it is the only option, that safeguards my loved ones, and keeps all the blame with me. Personally, I don't view my refusal of help, as suicide, rather the natural progression of nature. I feel as though my life is being sustained through artificial means, and do not find joy, or quality, in the lifestyle that paralysis has forced on me. I don't see my refusal of nutrition/hydration, any differently than my refusal to want to be hooked up to a vent, feeding tube, colostomy, or any other artificial life support. Right now, people act in place of machines. Either way, I'm unable to fend for myself, and would have died long ago, if I "left my life into God's hands." I think it's bad enough, I'm forced into a corner, where my only options, are to accept this low standard life, full of chronic illness, and no cure in sight, or have to starve to death. We treat our pets more humanely, and like Ramon, it really pisses me off, that God & religion, have such a strong influence, over laws, in a country where church & state, are meant to be separate.
During his campaign to die, Ramon befriended and fell in love with one of his lawyers, Julia. She was suffering from a degenerate neurological disease, similar to MS, and in my opinion, used Ramon's case, to give herself peace of mind, and as a selfish means, to try and use Ramon's case (in the event the government granted him permission, to die by lethal injection) as a precedent, to be able to end her own life, with dignity, before her disease effected her ability to reason, and/or memories. Whether intentional or not, and despite the fact that she was married, she toyed with his emotions, and even went so far as to help him write, and publish his book, and promised him that'd she'd personally help him carry out his wish to die, and die alongside him, once his book was published. Instead, she backed out of the deal, by letter, leaving Ramon, more heartbroken and suffering, than before she met him. Ultimately, it is a local woman, named Rosa (who fell in love with him, became his friend, around the same time period as Julia), who agrees to take the pivotal part, in helping Ramon, realize & carry out his plan to die. It is ironic, that during their first meeting, Rosa goes to meet him, in hopes of inspiring him to find a reason to live. Over time, she came to love and respect him, and finally understood, that the most loving gift, she could give him, was to recognize his suffering, and respect his wish to die.
Like Ramon, my wish is for people to understand how much I'm suffering, and to also respect my wish to NOT want to live THIS way. It is not a normal way to live. It is not easy, being 100% dependent on others (I find it frustrating that some people could accept & respect my wishes, to not want to be dependent on machinery, but yet expect me to accept being dependent on people). Being dependent on others is in many ways harder than being dependent on machines (which I have been), because there is shame, guilt, and judgement, involved in having to reveal yourself and be cared for by people. It is degrading, embarrassing and humiliating to have to be bathed, clothed, and fed, like a baby. It is extremely hard having to accept help, and share your private, personal space, when you have lived and are accustomed to being, an independent, self sufficient person.
Ramon was right, in that "this life has no dignity." I don't think that it's fair that such a low quality standard of life be forced upon people. I think people SHOULD have the right to die with dignity, and peacefully, if all life offers them, is a life of chronic illness, and suffering. People with incurable, debilitating diseases, shouldn't be forced into living UNNATURALLY long life spans, just because there are resources and means available to extend their lives. People like me & Ramon, should have a humane option, out of being otherwise, prisoners in our own flesh. I'm not saying that everyone in my shoes would chose to "opt out," I'm just saying that sometimes ending a life to prevent prolonged suffering, is more humane, than forcing someone who would otherwise be dead (because they can't care for themselves), to live and suffer.
My hope is that, if I do choose to one day stop accepting help, that those people closest to me understand my reasoning, respect my decision and know that I tried to live THIS life, for as long as I possibly could, for their sake (I do not go through all this Hell for myself. That point has come, and gone, a very long time ago). I hope that my loved ones will forgive me, and know that it is not for lack of love, that I want to leave them, but out of exhaustion and being tired of suffering. I wonder if Ramon's family have forgiven him, and have been able to move forward without him. I wonder how well, or poorly they coped with his death, despite knowing his wishes, and witnessing his suffering. I wonder if there is a heaven, and a God, if Ramon is there, beside him/her/it. I think if God exists, he/she/it will weigh the suffering, compassion, and generosity, of people like myself, and Ramon, and consider the amount of good a person has done, against the bad, and that a loving, all knowing God would forgive people, in our situation, for wanting to leave THIS life behind.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
One of the things that struck me most about the movie, was the interpersonal relationships, between Ramon, and his family members, and the different dynamics each of them shared. It was insightful for me, and hit very close to home, to see the pain and anguish that his family members experienced, do to his injury, and the different way each of them coped, with having to help him, and also each of their varying attitudes, towards his wish to die. An especially poignant scene, is where his ailing father, who is normally very tightlipped, and somber, says something to the effect of "it's hard enough to lose a child; it's worse to watch a child, that wants to die." It's evident how much his father has suffered, watching Ramon suffer, and the feelings of frustration, and inadiquicy that must come along, with not being able to help his son heal. He is also torn between, his two sons, who argue bitterly, over Ramon's injury, and its impact on the family, as a whole. Ramon's older brother Jose, clearly feels resentment over his brother's life, and care being a burden and strain on the family, and yet he is the one most adamantly opposed to his brother's wishes to die. I found it interesting, that although he clearly blamed his brother for having a negative impact on his life, he seemed most affraid, and hesitant to let him go. I can't help but wonder, and compare my own situation, to Ramon's and think about all the stress, tears, and suffering my accident has caused on my family. Despite their spats, it was clear that Ramon was very loved, and well cared for. In fact his sister-in-law, Manuela, serves as his primary caregiver, and doted on him, as if he were her own child.
Ramon's case became a big media blitz, and caused a bit of scandal, given the influence of the Catholic church, and it's roots, into the heritage, and history of the Spanish goverment. One point in the movie, a Catholic priest, who was also quadriplegic, decided to make it his mission, to "save" Ramon, by going to see him, and try to persuade Ramon to change his views on living life, despite paralysis, and publicly suggested that perhaps it was just that Ramon lacked love and compassion, and that his petition for the right to die, was just a cry for help. Naturally, his comments both offended, and deeply hurt his family, whom loved him very much. Like myself, Ramon felt that this life is not a quality life. He believed like me, that it is a second best, compromise of the lives we once had, that strip of us of our freedom, and dignity. He was not happy with settling for life with paralysis, and neither am I.
It is not that I (or Ramon) don't appreciative the love and compassion my family and friends have for me, but love alone is not enough, to take away the physical and emotional pain that comes along with having to live such a limiting, unnatural way of life. Wanting to die, has nothing to do with lacking love, and/or support. Ramon's family was deeply invested and involved in Ramon's overall health, and well being. He had many interested, caring friends. I too have an abundance of love, and support. I am blessed with a strong network, of family, friends, and medical staff, to support me, and provide me with the best possible care, given my condition, and my limitations. I am grateful for the love, and interest my loved ones take in helping me, and being there for me. Unfortunately, love alone, is not enough, to counter balance the physical suffering, emotional trauma, loss of indepedemce, and losing the life I once had. There is nothing, short of a miracle, and/or cure, that can give me back (some of) what I lost, and make up for all the suffering I endure. Neither is very probable, or likely to occur, within the near future (or realistically speaking, even within the next decade.) I understand Ramon's wish to die, and respect his decision.
Its not to say I think all quadriplegics should die, or that their lives aren't worth living. I can only talk for myself, as did Ramon. He was not satisfied with having to endure the indignities that we're forced to face every day, every second. We don't get a break, and all the love in the world doesn't heal this type of injury. It doesn't take away the fevers, the cold sweats, the lack of privacy, or independence. Ramon's attitude was based around the idea, that each individual person has their own threshold for suffering, and while one person might find satisfaction in living dependent on others, and/or machines that, that low standard of quality of living should not be forced upon those of us that have to live it. After all, only Ramon knew what it was like to live in his shoes, and the personal hell that he had to endure, for almost thirty years, against his will. For me, and Ramon, paralysis is worse that being a prisoner. We are being punished, by being forced to live through unnatural means, against our will. That isn't fair, nor is it humane.
I can't speak for other quadriplegics, I can only speak for myself, about my struggles and the physical, and emotional impacts that paralysis has had on my life. I don't judge people who want to live this way, by calling them crazy, for giving in, for settling, for enduring, despite all the pain. I only know what I lost, what memories haunt me, what standards I hold myself to, and what brings me joy and fulfillment. It's easy to judge, when you don't have to deal with a fraction, of what I (or Ramon) went through, and in my case, continue to endure. No one has to sit every day, battling my inner deamons, frustration, disappointment and disgust, over the way I'm forced to live, but me. I think everyone should have the right to determine their own level of worth, and value, in terms of living, versus suffering. Let me worry about my own soul. Let God be my judge, instead of presuming his/hers/its purpose for my life.
Unlike Ramon (who cleverly had a chain of people prepare him a glass of water, mixed with poison, which he ingested, through a straw, on camera), my conscious would never allow me to jeopardize someone else's freedom (by making them criminally liable), or share the burden of the responsibility, for my death, by asking friends, or loved ones, to carry out, my wish to die. If/When the time comes, that I've reached my threshold, and can no longer continue to suffer, as I am, I will choose to excersise my right to refuse nutrition/hydration. It will not be quick, like Ramon's death. It will most likely, be days, or weeks, of slowly waiting to die. Although it might be painful for my loved ones to witness, it is the only option, that safeguards my loved ones, and keeps all the blame with me. Personally, I don't view my refusal of help, as suicide, rather the natural progression of nature. I feel as though my life is being sustained through artificial means, and do not find joy, or quality, in the lifestyle that paralysis has forced on me. I don't see my refusal of nutrition/hydration, any differently than my refusal to want to be hooked up to a vent, feeding tube, colostomy, or any other artificial life support. Right now, people act in place of machines. Either way, I'm unable to fend for myself, and would have died long ago, if I "left my life into God's hands." I think it's bad enough, I'm forced into a corner, where my only options, are to accept this low standard life, full of chronic illness, and no cure in sight, or have to starve to death. We treat our pets more humanely, and like Ramon, it really pisses me off, that God & religion, have such a strong influence, over laws, in a country where church & state, are meant to be separate.
During his campaign to die, Ramon befriended and fell in love with one of his lawyers, Julia. She was suffering from a degenerate neurological disease, similar to MS, and in my opinion, used Ramon's case, to give herself peace of mind, and as a selfish means, to try and use Ramon's case (in the event the government granted him permission, to die by lethal injection) as a precedent, to be able to end her own life, with dignity, before her disease effected her ability to reason, and/or memories. Whether intentional or not, and despite the fact that she was married, she toyed with his emotions, and even went so far as to help him write, and publish his book, and promised him that'd she'd personally help him carry out his wish to die, and die alongside him, once his book was published. Instead, she backed out of the deal, by letter, leaving Ramon, more heartbroken and suffering, than before she met him. Ultimately, it is a local woman, named Rosa (who fell in love with him, became his friend, around the same time period as Julia), who agrees to take the pivotal part, in helping Ramon, realize & carry out his plan to die. It is ironic, that during their first meeting, Rosa goes to meet him, in hopes of inspiring him to find a reason to live. Over time, she came to love and respect him, and finally understood, that the most loving gift, she could give him, was to recognize his suffering, and respect his wish to die.
Like Ramon, my wish is for people to understand how much I'm suffering, and to also respect my wish to NOT want to live THIS way. It is not a normal way to live. It is not easy, being 100% dependent on others (I find it frustrating that some people could accept & respect my wishes, to not want to be dependent on machinery, but yet expect me to accept being dependent on people). Being dependent on others is in many ways harder than being dependent on machines (which I have been), because there is shame, guilt, and judgement, involved in having to reveal yourself and be cared for by people. It is degrading, embarrassing and humiliating to have to be bathed, clothed, and fed, like a baby. It is extremely hard having to accept help, and share your private, personal space, when you have lived and are accustomed to being, an independent, self sufficient person.
Ramon was right, in that "this life has no dignity." I don't think that it's fair that such a low quality standard of life be forced upon people. I think people SHOULD have the right to die with dignity, and peacefully, if all life offers them, is a life of chronic illness, and suffering. People with incurable, debilitating diseases, shouldn't be forced into living UNNATURALLY long life spans, just because there are resources and means available to extend their lives. People like me & Ramon, should have a humane option, out of being otherwise, prisoners in our own flesh. I'm not saying that everyone in my shoes would chose to "opt out," I'm just saying that sometimes ending a life to prevent prolonged suffering, is more humane, than forcing someone who would otherwise be dead (because they can't care for themselves), to live and suffer.
My hope is that, if I do choose to one day stop accepting help, that those people closest to me understand my reasoning, respect my decision and know that I tried to live THIS life, for as long as I possibly could, for their sake (I do not go through all this Hell for myself. That point has come, and gone, a very long time ago). I hope that my loved ones will forgive me, and know that it is not for lack of love, that I want to leave them, but out of exhaustion and being tired of suffering. I wonder if Ramon's family have forgiven him, and have been able to move forward without him. I wonder how well, or poorly they coped with his death, despite knowing his wishes, and witnessing his suffering. I wonder if there is a heaven, and a God, if Ramon is there, beside him/her/it. I think if God exists, he/she/it will weigh the suffering, compassion, and generosity, of people like myself, and Ramon, and consider the amount of good a person has done, against the bad, and that a loving, all knowing God would forgive people, in our situation, for wanting to leave THIS life behind.
- 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
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Response to Feedback: I'm Not Doing So Good :(
Thank you for your responses to my previous blog ("I'm Not Doing So Good"). My blogs post onto several sites, from Blogger.com so I thought it'd be easiest to post this here, as a separate blog entry. That way I can reply to everyone that left me feedback in one place, versus posting a bunch of separate comments. Besides, I tend to write too much to be accepted in the normal "comment" boxes. >.<
I'm not even sure what I'm looking for, in terms if advice. I realize that words can only do so much. I was forced to see a therapist, when I lived in the nursing facility, and often considered it more of an annoyance, than a help. Partly because, I had an AB (able bodied) person sitting across from me, giving me advice. It was infuriating at times, and I couldn't help but think, "Easy for you to say. You get to punch out and leave all this sadness behind at the end of the day. You get to go home to your normal life and care for yourself. You have the freedom to pick up and do things, as you please and the independence to do things for yourself. How on earth can you even begin to empathize with me, or have the audacity to tell me what I should do!" I've been trying my best to cope with everything, in my own way and rely on medicine to take away some of the overwhelming thoughts, or sadness. Unfortunately, my way doesn't seem to be working anymore and I feel myself sliding down, deeper and deeper into a dark hole.
There are times when I think, "Enough is enough. I've tried my best. It's not fair for other people to expect me to live this way. If my loved ones could (anyone for that matter) live a few days in my shoes, they'd understand and willingly let me go." On the other hand, I feel like giving up would just be another failure. I beat myself for my accident, and already feel as though I've ruined my life. To give up, on top of the mistake of my accident, sometimes makes me feel like I'd be an even bigger disappointment, than I already am (to myself, if no one else).
Then there's the fear of the unknown and what consequences would await me, if I gave up my will to live. I don't have a strong belief in any particular faith, and although I've been actively searching (and praying) for a relationship with God (if he, or she, or they exist), but have yet to find any answers. Faith isn't something anyone else can instill in me; if that were the case, I'd be a devout Catholic. I feel as though a faith in God would give me strength and inner peace, in believing that there really is some bigger purpose, or plan, and some sort of justification, for all of my pain. I think a faith in God would also give me the peace of mind that there's something better waiting for me, when I die. Without a heaven, it seems so pointless to even try. I mean, why prolong my suffering, just to die and go into non-existence? Then again, if there is a heaven, what am sitting around for? Why stay here, if I could be happy on the other side?
These are all questions that no one can answer for me.
The unknown adds a lot of stress, because it leaves me full of doubt, and guilt, over making choices. In a way, my accident drained me of confidence in my ability to make good choices. After five and a half years of suffering with the consequences, of one stupid, split second decision, it terrifies me to think that, giving up could be viewed as the wrong choice. It probably sounds silly, to some, but I'm terrified of screwing up my afterlife (if there is one), as horribly as I've already done with my life. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying Im a horrible person. Actually, I think I'm a pretty good person. I was a good student, hard worker, law abiding citizen, generous and kind person. However, my accident is proof, to me, that none of that matters, if the mistake you make is bad enough. It's a philosophical/theological dilemma, that only adds to my confusion and stress, about my current situation. The lack of a relationship, or true belief in God, also adds to my overwhelming sense of emptiness, and loneliness. In a way, it feels like the ultimate rejection. Here I am, reading books (of many different ideologies), holy scriptures, praying and begging, with all my heart and soul, and all I get in return is silence and more of the same old stuff.
The unknown of the future is stressful as well. When I first got hurt, I believed strongly in a cure. I was hearing and reading researchers talk about all sorts of promising research. The timespan of "five to ten" years, that I heard countless times, seemed tolerable. I can remember laying in bed, at Kessler rehab, saying to two of my best friends, "Even if it takes a full ten years, I'll only be thirty-five. I'll still be young enough to do everything I want to do." Yet, here we are, five years later, and most of what I've read and heard has been disappointment after disappointment. President Bush vetoed the ESC bill, making research in that field slow to snail's pace. The CDRPA, that could've boosted support for research in many areas of spinel cord injury research, was held up in the Senate for years. Even now, there's a fight to overturn President Obama's support for research. Ironically, some of the most important, promising initiatives to support research for a cure, have been bogged down, by the selfishness and ignorance of only a few individuals. It makes me want to scream, and lash out, for every AB person to hear. I want every AB person to see and feel my pain, and understand why a cure matters. I wish there were a way to have selfish individuals (like the most recent road blocker, Judge Royce Lamberth) experience one week of living with quadriplegia, not to gloat in their suffering, not for revenge, but for understanding. I'm 100% positive that one week (without knowing if, or when a cure would be found) would be enough to inspire anyone to support research. The lack of a cure, or evidence of even a remotely close cure, that I could give me back my independence, has chipped away at my hope over time. I currently, have very little hope left, for any cure that could benefit me, in my lifetime.
My spinal cord injury has given me a perspective on life, that allows me to see the most basic, most important, most valuable aspects of life, that most people take for granted. Unfortunately, the majority of people are blinded by money, power, material possessions, and pride, and have lost the ability to see the obvious order of what their priorities should be; priorities that value the living, improve quality of life and focus on helping others. Either that, or people are so self absorbed, that they can't see the suffering around them, or don't care, until it directly effects their lives. The irony is, anyone can be injured, at anytime. Life can change in the matter of seconds. Just because you are healthy, and on your feet today, is no guarantee that tomorrow you won't be living life in a wheelchair. Finding a cure to paralysis should be among the top priorities for all humanity, not just those of us living with paralysis, at this moment. That's why my message, is almost always aimed at the average AB person. I'm in no way a role model, and have too many struggles, to presume I can give much coping advise to other disabled people. I just want to open AB people's eyes and minds, to what it means to live with paralysis. I'm crying out, "Look at me! Look at what I have to go through everyday. Help me!" I want the average person to look at my situation, and really have it sink in, that I could be anybody; that they could be me.
As far as writing goes, thank you for your compliments. Writing has always been helpful for me. I've kept journals, on and off, since I was eight. I've thought about pursuing bigger writing goals, like writing a book. I've even started working on a book, several times. I tend to hit a wall, when I have to dredge up the really painful stuff, and as time goes on, my memories are getting blurry (regarding details of the first couple of years post accident). Lately, I've been so depressed, that writing itself, has become painful. Having to focus on my thoughts and write them down, has been making me want to switch gears, find distraction and ignore my feelings. Writing my thoughts down forces me to shine a light on a lot of the things I've been trying to avoid thinking about. My iPad has given me some more freedom, to write at various times of the day, so sometimes I can jot down small pieces of what I'm going through. The ability to be more spontaneous helps. I uploaded the Dragon dictation app recently and I'm waiting for a new headset with built in mic to be delivered. Being able to blurt out my thoughts, might help, because it won't take as much effort to type and therefore, give me less excuses to avoid sharing. As embarrassing as it can be sometimes, I feel it is important for me to put myself (through expressing my feelings) out there. I think people are more likely to help, if they can put a face to a problem. I'm not just an example in a book. I'm living, breathing, and feeling, and can give a personal perspective of paralysis, that a medical definition, or diagnosis, fails to give. I'm trying my best, that's all I can do.
I'm not even sure what I'm looking for, in terms if advice. I realize that words can only do so much. I was forced to see a therapist, when I lived in the nursing facility, and often considered it more of an annoyance, than a help. Partly because, I had an AB (able bodied) person sitting across from me, giving me advice. It was infuriating at times, and I couldn't help but think, "Easy for you to say. You get to punch out and leave all this sadness behind at the end of the day. You get to go home to your normal life and care for yourself. You have the freedom to pick up and do things, as you please and the independence to do things for yourself. How on earth can you even begin to empathize with me, or have the audacity to tell me what I should do!" I've been trying my best to cope with everything, in my own way and rely on medicine to take away some of the overwhelming thoughts, or sadness. Unfortunately, my way doesn't seem to be working anymore and I feel myself sliding down, deeper and deeper into a dark hole.
There are times when I think, "Enough is enough. I've tried my best. It's not fair for other people to expect me to live this way. If my loved ones could (anyone for that matter) live a few days in my shoes, they'd understand and willingly let me go." On the other hand, I feel like giving up would just be another failure. I beat myself for my accident, and already feel as though I've ruined my life. To give up, on top of the mistake of my accident, sometimes makes me feel like I'd be an even bigger disappointment, than I already am (to myself, if no one else).
Then there's the fear of the unknown and what consequences would await me, if I gave up my will to live. I don't have a strong belief in any particular faith, and although I've been actively searching (and praying) for a relationship with God (if he, or she, or they exist), but have yet to find any answers. Faith isn't something anyone else can instill in me; if that were the case, I'd be a devout Catholic. I feel as though a faith in God would give me strength and inner peace, in believing that there really is some bigger purpose, or plan, and some sort of justification, for all of my pain. I think a faith in God would also give me the peace of mind that there's something better waiting for me, when I die. Without a heaven, it seems so pointless to even try. I mean, why prolong my suffering, just to die and go into non-existence? Then again, if there is a heaven, what am sitting around for? Why stay here, if I could be happy on the other side?
These are all questions that no one can answer for me.
The unknown adds a lot of stress, because it leaves me full of doubt, and guilt, over making choices. In a way, my accident drained me of confidence in my ability to make good choices. After five and a half years of suffering with the consequences, of one stupid, split second decision, it terrifies me to think that, giving up could be viewed as the wrong choice. It probably sounds silly, to some, but I'm terrified of screwing up my afterlife (if there is one), as horribly as I've already done with my life. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying Im a horrible person. Actually, I think I'm a pretty good person. I was a good student, hard worker, law abiding citizen, generous and kind person. However, my accident is proof, to me, that none of that matters, if the mistake you make is bad enough. It's a philosophical/theological dilemma, that only adds to my confusion and stress, about my current situation. The lack of a relationship, or true belief in God, also adds to my overwhelming sense of emptiness, and loneliness. In a way, it feels like the ultimate rejection. Here I am, reading books (of many different ideologies), holy scriptures, praying and begging, with all my heart and soul, and all I get in return is silence and more of the same old stuff.
The unknown of the future is stressful as well. When I first got hurt, I believed strongly in a cure. I was hearing and reading researchers talk about all sorts of promising research. The timespan of "five to ten" years, that I heard countless times, seemed tolerable. I can remember laying in bed, at Kessler rehab, saying to two of my best friends, "Even if it takes a full ten years, I'll only be thirty-five. I'll still be young enough to do everything I want to do." Yet, here we are, five years later, and most of what I've read and heard has been disappointment after disappointment. President Bush vetoed the ESC bill, making research in that field slow to snail's pace. The CDRPA, that could've boosted support for research in many areas of spinel cord injury research, was held up in the Senate for years. Even now, there's a fight to overturn President Obama's support for research. Ironically, some of the most important, promising initiatives to support research for a cure, have been bogged down, by the selfishness and ignorance of only a few individuals. It makes me want to scream, and lash out, for every AB person to hear. I want every AB person to see and feel my pain, and understand why a cure matters. I wish there were a way to have selfish individuals (like the most recent road blocker, Judge Royce Lamberth) experience one week of living with quadriplegia, not to gloat in their suffering, not for revenge, but for understanding. I'm 100% positive that one week (without knowing if, or when a cure would be found) would be enough to inspire anyone to support research. The lack of a cure, or evidence of even a remotely close cure, that I could give me back my independence, has chipped away at my hope over time. I currently, have very little hope left, for any cure that could benefit me, in my lifetime.
My spinal cord injury has given me a perspective on life, that allows me to see the most basic, most important, most valuable aspects of life, that most people take for granted. Unfortunately, the majority of people are blinded by money, power, material possessions, and pride, and have lost the ability to see the obvious order of what their priorities should be; priorities that value the living, improve quality of life and focus on helping others. Either that, or people are so self absorbed, that they can't see the suffering around them, or don't care, until it directly effects their lives. The irony is, anyone can be injured, at anytime. Life can change in the matter of seconds. Just because you are healthy, and on your feet today, is no guarantee that tomorrow you won't be living life in a wheelchair. Finding a cure to paralysis should be among the top priorities for all humanity, not just those of us living with paralysis, at this moment. That's why my message, is almost always aimed at the average AB person. I'm in no way a role model, and have too many struggles, to presume I can give much coping advise to other disabled people. I just want to open AB people's eyes and minds, to what it means to live with paralysis. I'm crying out, "Look at me! Look at what I have to go through everyday. Help me!" I want the average person to look at my situation, and really have it sink in, that I could be anybody; that they could be me.
As far as writing goes, thank you for your compliments. Writing has always been helpful for me. I've kept journals, on and off, since I was eight. I've thought about pursuing bigger writing goals, like writing a book. I've even started working on a book, several times. I tend to hit a wall, when I have to dredge up the really painful stuff, and as time goes on, my memories are getting blurry (regarding details of the first couple of years post accident). Lately, I've been so depressed, that writing itself, has become painful. Having to focus on my thoughts and write them down, has been making me want to switch gears, find distraction and ignore my feelings. Writing my thoughts down forces me to shine a light on a lot of the things I've been trying to avoid thinking about. My iPad has given me some more freedom, to write at various times of the day, so sometimes I can jot down small pieces of what I'm going through. The ability to be more spontaneous helps. I uploaded the Dragon dictation app recently and I'm waiting for a new headset with built in mic to be delivered. Being able to blurt out my thoughts, might help, because it won't take as much effort to type and therefore, give me less excuses to avoid sharing. As embarrassing as it can be sometimes, I feel it is important for me to put myself (through expressing my feelings) out there. I think people are more likely to help, if they can put a face to a problem. I'm not just an example in a book. I'm living, breathing, and feeling, and can give a personal perspective of paralysis, that a medical definition, or diagnosis, fails to give. I'm trying my best, that's all I can do.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Sick of Being Sick
I've been fighting cold sweats, fever and overall discomfort for a couple of weeks now. I finally decided to bite the bullet and take an antibiotic. I try to avoid them, as they almost always reek havoc with my stomach. On top of that, I'm waking up every couple of hours from the time I try to fall asleep, to the time I have to wake up. I haven't even been able to take a nap lately. I'm no stranger to insomnia, it's just that I'm more accustom to having racing thoughts keep me awake, which I try my best to turn off. Recently though it's more discomfort waking me up than anything else. It's especially annoying not being able to toss, turn or reposition myself. As it is, I've had to adjust to sleeping on my back, something I never did before my accident. I can honestly say, I haven't slept longer than four hours straight since I was on my feet and eventually, it always catches up with me.
Living in hospitals, rehab and the nursing home was the worst, because it was frightening being paralyzed and on my own (no family or friends with me) at night. Not to mention, perpetually noisy. I had zero control over the schedule or the waves of medical staff that constantly came and went. Living in my own apartment has helped to decrease my nighttime stress and there's certainly less noise. All in all, I still wake up tired most mornings. Part of the problem is the fact that I can't move, like the average person. Although I don't always feel uncomfortable, my body reacts to being in one position for too long and causes my legs to spasm, or I get sweaty or I get a weird tingly sensation, which eventually wakes me up. Either that, or I get too cold, or too hot, or my hair bothers me. Naturally, I need help to get repositioned. Sometimes it takes a few minutes for someone to hear me (especially if they're sleeping) and I end up being wide awake by the time the person leaves my room. At the nursing home, it was procedure to get turned every two hours (I felt like a rotisserie chicken half the time). I'd be lucky if I could fall back asleep before the aides would come again and cycle continued on and on, every night. Despite all my efforts (medication, meditation, white noise, etc.) of battling my insomnia, it's an on going issue.
Being over tired often sets the tone for my day. There's many days that my lack of sleep seems to zap me of all motivation. The first few years post accident, I got up in my wheelchair every day (regardless of how I felt, partly because I had no choice in the facilities). Ever since I got a bedsore on my upper thigh in 2008, sitting up has become hit or miss. Sometimes I feel fine and other times I feel like I can't get back into bed or lay down fast enough. It makes me not want to get out of bed at all. For the past six months (give or take) I've been staying in bed 5-6 days per week. My nurses, aides & family sometimes get annoyed with me constantly being in bed, because they worry about my overall physical and mental well being. I understand that it's good for my body to sit in my chair, for blood flow, digestion and breathing. However, I'm already forced to sit up for two to three hours on the days my nurse comes, so on those days, I'm ready to lay down once they leave. I don't see the point in going through the hassle of getting fully dressed and transferred into my chair, only to want to reverse the process an hour later. It's just not worth it to me.
Ironically, I probably sit up the same amount of time in my bed as the days I get up into my chair. The difference is, I can lie down when ever I want, in bed. If I'm in my chair, I need to be transferred and partially undressed. My catheter bags also need to be switched and cleaned. Given the hassle and the fact that my aides come at set times, getting up just becomes less appealing, especially if I'm already tired, or feeling sick. On top of all that, the only thing I can't do in bed is paint. The list of activities I can do on my own is pretty slim, so most days it doesn't really matter if I'm sitting in a bed, or a chair. I can even do most things while laying down: watch tv, read, talk on the phone, use my iPad, control my PC by mouse & play Nintendo DS.
I could understand concern if I was completely lethargic and apathetic and spent my entire days sleeping or being zoned out. To me, that's giving up and it's not the case with me. Most people just fail to consider that there's still a big portion of my day that is out of my control and spent doing things I'd rather not be doing. I can't do things on a whim, or instantaneously, because I'm always relying on someone else to assist me. On top of that, there's activities of daily life (ADLs) that are simple to a healthy person, but have become stressful and traumatic for me. Gong to the bathroom is the number one stressor in my life. I don't even usually discuss it in any detail, out of embarrassment and shame. Unfortunately, I have no choice in the matter. I have to eat, therefore I have to go the bathroom. Something that should be a personal, private matter, now practically dictates my schedule and involves several people.
Most people probably don't even consider how paralysis (high level injuries and severe degenerative diseases) can effect every tiny detail of someone's life. I think it's too disturbing, or sad for some people to even want to know. Then there's the people who could care less, because it has no impact on their lives. The truth is, anyone could be in my shoes. It took less than a minute for my life to change, forever. It frustrates me that most people don't see how lucky they are, just to be able to care for themselves. Things that were once second nature to me, like brushing my teeth, taking a shower or going to the bathroom, have become things I dread.
I cringe every other night, because I know the nurse is coming the next morning. Having to have a permanent catheter is bad enough, but needing a bowel regimen makes me want to disappear into the floor and never eat again. It's not something that's easy to empathize with, because most people don't even know what a bowel regimen (or bowel program) is and because the normal person has sensation. It can't be that bad right? Yes. Yes, it can. For starters, just the fact that another human being has to assist me with something I had been doing solo since I was probably three years old, is stressful. It's not an aspect of life I've ever been comfortable with, and now my feelings of embarrassment and stress are off the charts. Secondly, I can't feel any part of the process. I feel no urge to go, no indication that I've gone and no relief or comfort in having gone. A nurse has to essentially, manually stimulate my body to go and then continue to check inside to see if it's worked. I'm usually physically uncomfortable the entire time, because it forces my blood pressure to rise and the commode is not very comfortable. The whole ordeal can take up to two hours, and I have to go through it every other day. It's also very emotionally draining for me. Just imagine having a stranger (at first. I have several nurses that I've gotten to know over time) sit with you in the bathroom while you go, and then clean your bottom for you. It's horrific, even though that scenario doesn't cover the full extent of the regimen.
Even with a bowel regimen, there's always the wonderful anxiety that comes with being incontinent, and never knowing when or if my body may decide to "go" for no reason at all. Having to wear Depends in your twenties and thirties, is not an easy pill to swallow. Having the fear of an accident is on my mind every day, and especially if I have plans to go out or have people over. The threat of it happening is very real and often completely unpredictable. I try to avoid know causes, like antibiotics, but there have been many, many days where I've needed to cancel plans last minute. Either for fear of incontinence, or feeling ill if things don't go smoothly. I try my best to ignore it all when it's going on, but I'm never that successful. After that, I have my shower. Yay. Yet another person to see me naked and have to wash (aka touch) every inch of me. Then it's all topped off with having someone else brush my teeth, hair and feed me breakfast (like an infant). It's exhausting. Unfortunately, it hasn't gotten any easier over time, for me to deal with most of the daily ADLs.
I almost never discuss my personal care with people other than nurses, aides and a handful of friends and family. I'm writing about it today, because I'm just so fed up. I feel like people should know EVERY aspect of living with paralysis. Sometimes I feel like going outside to find a random huge crowd of people and start shouting through a megaphone all of the stuff I deal with, everyday. It also makes it hard for me to be sympathetic to most people (healthy), because their "problems" all seem so trivial and stupid to me. I'd welcome most things people complaint about, in exchange for being able to care for myself. I get so angry and upset, because people expect me to live like this and either have no clue what my (or other people in my situation) life is really like, or if they do know (medical professionals), they still have no cure, or solution. "Just deal with it, and move on."
The worst is when people tell me, "well, at least you're still alive." Yeah. Great! It's not exactly easy to just forget twenty four years of a "normal" life and just be content with living, for the sake of being alive. The fact of the matter is, I'm left with few choices. If I want to "move on" with my life, it means having to deal with ALL the stressors, every second of the day. It means acknowledging the fact that I'll be chronically tired, often sick (UTIs are very common with catheters, despite how clean you are), have instances of incontinence, reliant on medication, need assistance from others, be susceptible to skin break down, be at risk of dying from respiratory infections, weakening bones, and inevitably have to do things that make me very uncomfortable (for my own health and cleanliness). It's my life. Take it or leave it. I don't get a breather. I can't remove myself from the situation. There will be many days that I'm sad, ill, or don't want to bothered with anyone, or anything that's not absolutely necessary. I can't understand why or how people still expect more.
Just because I'm feeling ill or tired, or just don't want to get out of bed, doesn't mean I'm giving up. Although I might not be as busy as I was the first two years I've lived in my apartment (2007-2009), I still try my best to be productive. I'm still painting, albeit much less frequently. However, I've continued to look for ways to share my artwork and have been exploring digital art. I work on my website from time to time and try to post at least two blogs per month. On top of that, I'm always networking and hunting for ways to help advocate for a cure. My intentions are always to raise awareness. I don't strive to be an inspiration or motivator for other disabled people. Other people with disabilities (paralysis specifically) already know what it's like to deal with my day to day struggles. Either that, or they were born disabled and have a totally different perspective.
I can't speak for anyone else, but I can educate people on the facts and use my life as an example. I don't expect other people to cope the way I do. Every person has their own story. Every person that's had a spinal cord injury goes through a unique experience. Your lifestyle, age and health all factor into how much loss you have to face. Each injury is unique. My goal is solely to educate the general public about paralysis and open people's eyes to what it takes to keep moving forward and all the obstacles that come along with paralysis. No one should have to live with paralysis and I feel it's important that people understand why we so desperately need a cure.
Personally, I'm at a point in my life (and my injury) where I have a tiny glimmer of hope left for a cure(that I'll be able to benefit from), but live each day at a time. In my mind, I'll be paralyzed until I die. If a cure is found, that'll be fantastic, but I have to face the reality of the present. I can't plan my life around "someday", "might", or "if." The truth of the matter is that, most days I don't feel motivated. Many days seem overwhelming. I'm sick of being sick. It's incredibly hard having a chronic condition. There are certain things that are inevitable and at times it's hard to face the day, because I know what's coming. It's never easy, but I try my best. I think that's good enough.
Sent from my iPad
Living in hospitals, rehab and the nursing home was the worst, because it was frightening being paralyzed and on my own (no family or friends with me) at night. Not to mention, perpetually noisy. I had zero control over the schedule or the waves of medical staff that constantly came and went. Living in my own apartment has helped to decrease my nighttime stress and there's certainly less noise. All in all, I still wake up tired most mornings. Part of the problem is the fact that I can't move, like the average person. Although I don't always feel uncomfortable, my body reacts to being in one position for too long and causes my legs to spasm, or I get sweaty or I get a weird tingly sensation, which eventually wakes me up. Either that, or I get too cold, or too hot, or my hair bothers me. Naturally, I need help to get repositioned. Sometimes it takes a few minutes for someone to hear me (especially if they're sleeping) and I end up being wide awake by the time the person leaves my room. At the nursing home, it was procedure to get turned every two hours (I felt like a rotisserie chicken half the time). I'd be lucky if I could fall back asleep before the aides would come again and cycle continued on and on, every night. Despite all my efforts (medication, meditation, white noise, etc.) of battling my insomnia, it's an on going issue.
Being over tired often sets the tone for my day. There's many days that my lack of sleep seems to zap me of all motivation. The first few years post accident, I got up in my wheelchair every day (regardless of how I felt, partly because I had no choice in the facilities). Ever since I got a bedsore on my upper thigh in 2008, sitting up has become hit or miss. Sometimes I feel fine and other times I feel like I can't get back into bed or lay down fast enough. It makes me not want to get out of bed at all. For the past six months (give or take) I've been staying in bed 5-6 days per week. My nurses, aides & family sometimes get annoyed with me constantly being in bed, because they worry about my overall physical and mental well being. I understand that it's good for my body to sit in my chair, for blood flow, digestion and breathing. However, I'm already forced to sit up for two to three hours on the days my nurse comes, so on those days, I'm ready to lay down once they leave. I don't see the point in going through the hassle of getting fully dressed and transferred into my chair, only to want to reverse the process an hour later. It's just not worth it to me.
Ironically, I probably sit up the same amount of time in my bed as the days I get up into my chair. The difference is, I can lie down when ever I want, in bed. If I'm in my chair, I need to be transferred and partially undressed. My catheter bags also need to be switched and cleaned. Given the hassle and the fact that my aides come at set times, getting up just becomes less appealing, especially if I'm already tired, or feeling sick. On top of all that, the only thing I can't do in bed is paint. The list of activities I can do on my own is pretty slim, so most days it doesn't really matter if I'm sitting in a bed, or a chair. I can even do most things while laying down: watch tv, read, talk on the phone, use my iPad, control my PC by mouse & play Nintendo DS.
I could understand concern if I was completely lethargic and apathetic and spent my entire days sleeping or being zoned out. To me, that's giving up and it's not the case with me. Most people just fail to consider that there's still a big portion of my day that is out of my control and spent doing things I'd rather not be doing. I can't do things on a whim, or instantaneously, because I'm always relying on someone else to assist me. On top of that, there's activities of daily life (ADLs) that are simple to a healthy person, but have become stressful and traumatic for me. Gong to the bathroom is the number one stressor in my life. I don't even usually discuss it in any detail, out of embarrassment and shame. Unfortunately, I have no choice in the matter. I have to eat, therefore I have to go the bathroom. Something that should be a personal, private matter, now practically dictates my schedule and involves several people.
Most people probably don't even consider how paralysis (high level injuries and severe degenerative diseases) can effect every tiny detail of someone's life. I think it's too disturbing, or sad for some people to even want to know. Then there's the people who could care less, because it has no impact on their lives. The truth is, anyone could be in my shoes. It took less than a minute for my life to change, forever. It frustrates me that most people don't see how lucky they are, just to be able to care for themselves. Things that were once second nature to me, like brushing my teeth, taking a shower or going to the bathroom, have become things I dread.
I cringe every other night, because I know the nurse is coming the next morning. Having to have a permanent catheter is bad enough, but needing a bowel regimen makes me want to disappear into the floor and never eat again. It's not something that's easy to empathize with, because most people don't even know what a bowel regimen (or bowel program) is and because the normal person has sensation. It can't be that bad right? Yes. Yes, it can. For starters, just the fact that another human being has to assist me with something I had been doing solo since I was probably three years old, is stressful. It's not an aspect of life I've ever been comfortable with, and now my feelings of embarrassment and stress are off the charts. Secondly, I can't feel any part of the process. I feel no urge to go, no indication that I've gone and no relief or comfort in having gone. A nurse has to essentially, manually stimulate my body to go and then continue to check inside to see if it's worked. I'm usually physically uncomfortable the entire time, because it forces my blood pressure to rise and the commode is not very comfortable. The whole ordeal can take up to two hours, and I have to go through it every other day. It's also very emotionally draining for me. Just imagine having a stranger (at first. I have several nurses that I've gotten to know over time) sit with you in the bathroom while you go, and then clean your bottom for you. It's horrific, even though that scenario doesn't cover the full extent of the regimen.
Even with a bowel regimen, there's always the wonderful anxiety that comes with being incontinent, and never knowing when or if my body may decide to "go" for no reason at all. Having to wear Depends in your twenties and thirties, is not an easy pill to swallow. Having the fear of an accident is on my mind every day, and especially if I have plans to go out or have people over. The threat of it happening is very real and often completely unpredictable. I try to avoid know causes, like antibiotics, but there have been many, many days where I've needed to cancel plans last minute. Either for fear of incontinence, or feeling ill if things don't go smoothly. I try my best to ignore it all when it's going on, but I'm never that successful. After that, I have my shower. Yay. Yet another person to see me naked and have to wash (aka touch) every inch of me. Then it's all topped off with having someone else brush my teeth, hair and feed me breakfast (like an infant). It's exhausting. Unfortunately, it hasn't gotten any easier over time, for me to deal with most of the daily ADLs.
I almost never discuss my personal care with people other than nurses, aides and a handful of friends and family. I'm writing about it today, because I'm just so fed up. I feel like people should know EVERY aspect of living with paralysis. Sometimes I feel like going outside to find a random huge crowd of people and start shouting through a megaphone all of the stuff I deal with, everyday. It also makes it hard for me to be sympathetic to most people (healthy), because their "problems" all seem so trivial and stupid to me. I'd welcome most things people complaint about, in exchange for being able to care for myself. I get so angry and upset, because people expect me to live like this and either have no clue what my (or other people in my situation) life is really like, or if they do know (medical professionals), they still have no cure, or solution. "Just deal with it, and move on."
The worst is when people tell me, "well, at least you're still alive." Yeah. Great! It's not exactly easy to just forget twenty four years of a "normal" life and just be content with living, for the sake of being alive. The fact of the matter is, I'm left with few choices. If I want to "move on" with my life, it means having to deal with ALL the stressors, every second of the day. It means acknowledging the fact that I'll be chronically tired, often sick (UTIs are very common with catheters, despite how clean you are), have instances of incontinence, reliant on medication, need assistance from others, be susceptible to skin break down, be at risk of dying from respiratory infections, weakening bones, and inevitably have to do things that make me very uncomfortable (for my own health and cleanliness). It's my life. Take it or leave it. I don't get a breather. I can't remove myself from the situation. There will be many days that I'm sad, ill, or don't want to bothered with anyone, or anything that's not absolutely necessary. I can't understand why or how people still expect more.
Just because I'm feeling ill or tired, or just don't want to get out of bed, doesn't mean I'm giving up. Although I might not be as busy as I was the first two years I've lived in my apartment (2007-2009), I still try my best to be productive. I'm still painting, albeit much less frequently. However, I've continued to look for ways to share my artwork and have been exploring digital art. I work on my website from time to time and try to post at least two blogs per month. On top of that, I'm always networking and hunting for ways to help advocate for a cure. My intentions are always to raise awareness. I don't strive to be an inspiration or motivator for other disabled people. Other people with disabilities (paralysis specifically) already know what it's like to deal with my day to day struggles. Either that, or they were born disabled and have a totally different perspective.
I can't speak for anyone else, but I can educate people on the facts and use my life as an example. I don't expect other people to cope the way I do. Every person has their own story. Every person that's had a spinal cord injury goes through a unique experience. Your lifestyle, age and health all factor into how much loss you have to face. Each injury is unique. My goal is solely to educate the general public about paralysis and open people's eyes to what it takes to keep moving forward and all the obstacles that come along with paralysis. No one should have to live with paralysis and I feel it's important that people understand why we so desperately need a cure.
Personally, I'm at a point in my life (and my injury) where I have a tiny glimmer of hope left for a cure(that I'll be able to benefit from), but live each day at a time. In my mind, I'll be paralyzed until I die. If a cure is found, that'll be fantastic, but I have to face the reality of the present. I can't plan my life around "someday", "might", or "if." The truth of the matter is that, most days I don't feel motivated. Many days seem overwhelming. I'm sick of being sick. It's incredibly hard having a chronic condition. There are certain things that are inevitable and at times it's hard to face the day, because I know what's coming. It's never easy, but I try my best. I think that's good enough.
Sent from my iPad
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)