Today has been a very shitty day, in every sense of the word. I hate to resort to vulgarities, but I feel as though it is the only word that can appropriately express the level of exhaustion and anger that I currently feel. I've been struggling more than ever to keep my sanity, and keep pushing forward, and today is a classic example, of the overwhelming tragedy and frustration that paralysis has thrust into my life. Despite my best efforts, I'm forever left feeling like a prisoner within my own flesh, and wanting anything to escape. I feel the need to share today's events, so far, to highlight the ugliness of paralysis, and shine a light on many reasons why living with paralysis has been, and continues to be so challenging for me. I'd challenge anyone to live through a few days like today, and still be able to be joyful and find motivation for wanting to keep living, paralyzed.
Today started like many mornings have, since my accident; sleepless and in pain. I spent the better part of last night uncomfortable, with cold sweats, chills, and mystery chest pressure, keeping me awake. I lie in bed trying to find comfort in the only position that doesn't hurt my shoulders (on my back- which is never how I used to sleep), and toss and turn my head, from left, to right, and back again. All the while, my mind is racing at top speed- apparently, the only speed I have- and I'm trying my best to ignore my discomfort. It's amazing how uncomfortable I can be, despite that fact that I can't actually feel most of my body. The little I can feel is full of annoyances, and the littlest of movements can trigger a leg spasm, move my hair out of place, create an itch I can't scratch, tense up my arm, or any number of stupid little things, that I can try to ignore, or call someone for help. I end up ignoring about half of my impulses, out of decency and consideration for my family/aides. Either way, most every night is a restless night, full of inner turmoil and despair. I can't help but beat myself up, over my accident and cling to the life I had. All of my memories bring with them a certain amount of grief, and I have yet to find a way to let go of what I lost (in both potential for the future and in reality). I spend most my nights trying to distract myself from negative thoughts, and find enough peace to fall asleep. Unfortunately, even sleep is not an escape, as many nights are filled with bad dreams, that make waking up seem somewhat better. I pray and pray, and ask God for a cure, to take me, and spare me the suffering, or at the very least, give me some measure of understanding, as to why my life has to be so difficult. In that respect, last night was the same as every other night since my accident; no answers and little sleep. Once I finally did manage to fall asleep, it was nearly 9am and my nurse was already on her way.
My nurse arrived around nine thirty, and so began my bowel program, most certainly my most hated aspect of life with paralysis. Bleary eyed, sick to my stomach, and depressed to be starting off my day in such a horribly violating way, I say nothing as my mom and nurse begin to strip off my adult diaper (wonderfully sexy garment) and roll me on to the sling. Next, it's time to get pumped up into the hoyer lift, and take the adrenaline filled ride, across the room to my most hated piece of furniture, my commode. It's impossible to explain to fear and mix of sensations that go through my mind, as my body is suspended in mid air, with no means of stopping myself from falling, or way to brace myself for impact. The hoyer lift makes me feel like I'm floating through the air (not in a good way), and unless you are paralyzed, it's hard to imagine how terrifying a small "ride" can seem. It is one small aspect of life that I've learned to tolerate, and although it makes me on edge, once I'm safely strapped into my commode, or landed in my wheelchair, it's not a big deal, and something that makes caring for me easier on my family/aides. As scary as it can be sometimes, it beats getting picked up and carried, which is usually more painful, and more dangerous, for everyone involved. Once I got strapped into the commode, the nurse wheeled me into the bathroom to begin the bowel regime. It's an awful necessity, that has never gotten any easier to deal with.
The only comparison I can think of, to accurately describe my feelings toward bowel program is rape. Although I realize that is a very strong word, with very negative connotations, hear me out. Before my accident, I was a very self conscious person (still am) and had many issues regarding the bathroom (still do). I was very private and couldn't stand the thought of using public restrooms, outside of my home, and a very few select friends' home to EVER "go number two." I can count on one hand the number of times that in almost TWENTY FIVE YEARS of my life on my feet that my IBS forced me into the shame and embarrassment of violating my own code of bathroom conduct. I find everything about poop, and feces related actions (aka-passing gas) humiliating, unladylike, and disgusting. If I had a choice, I'd negate the whole process all together, and have said many times, to many doctors, that I'd gladly trade in food, for a liquid diet, if it meant I could not have to "go" again. Obviously, that is not and option; I must eat and therefore poo. Having a spinal cord injury has made my worst fears a reality. It is truly Hell on Earth. Not only am I forced into revealing ever flaw, and every inch of my naked body, I'm forced into being violated on a near daily basis. Incontinence, and the anxiety over accidents, practically rule my life. I feel shame and embarrassment having to have other adult human beings not only acutely aware of my bodily functions, but up close and personal, in my face, and in my space, whether I want them there or not. I'm forced into accepting another human being, put their finger up my rear end, multiple times, every other morning, to stimulate my body into doing a process, it should be able to do naturally, and on my own. Personal space and privacy are luxuries that do not exist in my life. This morning, like so many other mornings, I had to make a "choice" to accept help, and accept having a bowel regime, despite my embarrassment, loathing, and revulsion to the process, because my only other alternatives are to become impacted, septic, and die, or have a colostomy bag strapped to my side (a bag full of the single most hated and embarrassing thing possible, in my mind). Do you really consider that a choice? I'm forced into accepting the bizarre, unnatural and repulsive, because the only choice, is to become sicker and/or possibly die. My paralysis shoves bowel program down my throat, and silences my voice, because there is no viable alternative. My body no longer answers to me, therefore I'm forced into answering to other people. Right now there is no cure. There's life; paralyzed. Take it, or leave it. That is my only real choice.
My list for reasons to want to die vastly outweighs my reasons for staying. The thing that keeps me here is fear. I don't have a strong faith in God (like many people have). Instead, I have a mountain of fear and doubt. I was raised Catholic, and although I don't believe in much of the religion, I do hope that there is a God. Catholicism is not a very flexible, open-minded religion, in my experience. I attended Catholic school for the first ten years of my schooling, and although I don't buy into most of the rituals and the emphasis the Catholic church puts on going to church and the Pope, the lessons I learned as a child, still have a hold on me. I wish that I had a strong faith in God, any God, because I have seen what peace of mind and strength that faith has given to other people. One of the reasons that turned me off to my childhood belief in God, was the rigidness of the religion I grew up. I consider myself to be a very open minded, liberal person, and those aspects of my personality make it extremely hard for me to believe in the triumphalist type belief system of most organized religions. I've read a lot about (and watched documentaries) about various religions. I enjoy history. I enjoy philosophy and the history of how religions were formed, and came to be. I've read a lot of the Old & New Testament of the Bible throughout my life. It seems absurd to me that God, an omniscient, omnipotent being, that has the capacity to create our entire universe, would be hung over petty rituals and/or the name by which we call him/her/it/them. I can't believe that if there is a God, that he/she/it/them would punish damn someone to an eternity of suffering, despite that person being kind, and good, because that person wasn't born into the right culture, time, or place, or didn't worship him/her/it/them by the right name. I can't stand that people are willing to hurt other people in God's name. It's horribly asinine to think that such a powerful, all knowing being, would want their/his/hers/its creation to waste its energy and time on hurting one another. If most people would be open minded enough to learn about other religions and consider each other, as equal, human beings, it would be obvious, that there are basic messages that transcend all faiths; to love one another.
Before my accident I probably would've classified myself as an Atheist. Now I guess I'm Agnostic. I'm not really sold on any particular God(s) or religion, but I do want to believe in something. Catholicism is very clearly opposed to suicide. Catholicism very clearly states that the only path to heaven is Jesus. I have a VERY hard time accepting both of those "truths." I have a lot of friends of varying faiths, that are good people, that contribute to society in positive ways and are kind to their fellow man. I can't bring myself to worship a God that would condemn my loved ones and friends to a firey abyss, just because they don't call him Jesus. If there is an afterlife I have to believe it's open to all good human beings and that if there is any judgment, that it's fair and just. I'll never be sold on the thought that God would care about insignificant things like clothes or what type of food we eat. My Catholic upbringing causes me to have a lot of fear and anxiety over what will happen to my soul, if I have one. I want to believe that God is not as rigid, jealous and inflexible, as Christianity, Judaism or Islam would have us believe. People say God only gives us what we can handle, but I feel like my life is proof that that isn't true. I can't handle the curve ball that life (or God) has given me. There are so many paradoxes, that keep me always doubting and questioning. I mean, if God loves me, how can he/she/it/them let me suffer? If God has a plan for us, then how can we also have freewill? I'm a logical, realistic person, that makes it very hard for me to believe. I know having faith means blindly believing, but it's not something I can force. On the other hand, the teachings that I was brought up with, very clearly state that I will go to Hell if I give up on life. The thing is, I feel like my situation is not average and I don't know whether God would consider not accepting help, as suicide. I'm not an able bodied person, putting a gun to my head, because my marriage failed, or I lost money in the stock market. My life is sustained by very unconventional means. I'm not healthy. I'm suffering.
It is my doubt and confusion over my faith in God and refusing help that keeps me here. Although I do feel sorry for family, in that I know they would be sad if I died, I feel as though I have already given them 5 1/2 years extra time with me, and I feel that my suffering has been sufficient enough to feel satisfied that I've tried my best, and given them my best effort. I think it would be selfish of them, and cruel to expect any more from me, and hope that despite their grief, that they would understand my death would alleviate my suffering. Besides, if there truly is an afterlife they can draw strength from knowing we'll be reunited. What stops me from giving into my wish to die, is my uncertainty over what will happen to my soul. It's horrible having anxiety over a soul I'm not even convinced I have. All I have is doubt. I'd like to believe that if God does exist, he/she/it/they knows my heart better than anyone, and knows how much I've suffered and how sorry I feel for wanting to give up. I'm don't think refusing help is the same as a healthy person committing suicide. Like I've said in a previous response, if I technically "left my life in God's hands" I'd be dead. I can't care for myself. I'm only here because the resources exist to keep me here. The problem is, I'm not happy. I don't consider this a quality life. I know I have talents. I'm aware I'm gifted in writing and art. The problem is, it's not enough. While I might have the ability to still do certain things, they're not enough to fulfill me. It makes me frustrated, confused and angry that everyone (including God-evidently) would be fine and respect the fact that I don't want to live dependent on machines. I can refuse a vent and get into heaven, but I if I refuse my bowel program, I'm committing suicide and will be damned to hell. Quality of life means more to me than quantity. Most people don't want to admit, or can't understand how awful my life is. No one would want my life for themselves. It seems very harsh to me that I'm forced to endure so much pain and that God would punish me, for not wanting to suffer. It takes A LOT to keep me alive; living a life I hate. The rules of suicide and what God would or wouldn't consider suicide, seem very unfair, confusing and ambiguous. It's fear and doubt that keep me here.
It's fear that keeps me pushing forward, on days like today, when I'm worn down and feeling like I'm forced into accepting horrible conditions. This morning during bowel program, I felt horrible. I was clammy, with cold sweat, and shivering with cold (phantom feelings of cold, in limbs I can no longer feel, on the outside). I wanted to disappear and run away, but I couldn't. Bowel program is the only option available (that I'm even unwillingly up to considering), to give me any sort of regularity and combat against incontinence. It is not natural. There is no privacy. Embarrassment doesn't matter. This morning I had the added discomfort of nausea, which is the only thing equally horrible to bowel program. There I sat, half nude, strapped to a chair, over a toilet, bent with nausea, no means to stop it, or way to clean up, no where to hide, no relief, and all the while I'm enduring my nurse forcing my body to expel what I no longer can. In that moment of nausea I wanted to die. I prayed to God to take me. I couldn't imagine my life any worse. Doubled over with nausea, and choking back tears, I felt I needed to get back into bed, and hoped that lying down would offer some relief. While having bowel program in bed disgusts me way more than doing it over a toilet, it's something I was forced to accept, every night, for the first year and a half, after my injury. Although I hated the thought of having to do it, anything that might take the nausea away, in that moment, was worth doing. I asked my nurse to call my mom in for help, and they rolled me back into the room, and hastily began getting me ready for the hoyer ride back to bed. Just as they started to lift me up, and I felt as though I would vomit, my body decides to defecate, all over my bedroom floor. My mom, and nurse, highly aware of how much this would upset me, rushed around and try to contain the mess, while at the same time get me safely back into my bed. By this point, I'm numb. This is the point where the mind starts to short circuit, because it just can't handle any more trauma. As the nausea subsided, I landed in my bed, and my nurse began to tend to me, while I watched my mother scrub my beige carpet, for the next hour, filled with shoulder pain. What could I do but just lay there and accept it? It's mornings like today that make me want to scream in rage, in the unjustness of it, and makes finding a silver lining to life, near impossible. Who would want this type of life for themselves? The only motivating force in my life to keep going, is often the fact that I feel like I have no other choice. I have to take it, or leave it for what it is, no matter how unhappy I am, or how much I hate the "choices."
It's days like today that make me question God's existence and what he/she/it/they think about my life, and make me question why I should have to continue living. It seems so cruel to me, that society and my religion (the belief system that I was raised with) expect me to endure living with paralysis. I feel like a loving God would understand my suffering and understand my need to escape. Surely, my Earthly parents love me as much as God does, and yet I know if they had it within their power, they'd have healed me right away. I can't even ask them to help me end my suffering, because society rather keep me living, no matter the price I have to pay. It infuriates me that our society (based solely on our laws) values the "life" of 3-5 day old cells (blastocysts) enough to not want to use them for research that could potentially alleviate my suffering, and that of millions of LIVING people, just like me. Our laws dictate that they rather see those cells be thrown away, rather than help me. That's how little my suffering matters, how easy it is to look away. We treat our pets with more respect, compassion and dignity, than we do people like me (people with extreme disability and chronic, incurable illness). I don't get the option to die peacefully. I have to suffer. I feel as though it is irrational and hypocritical to ask me, to expect me to, to demand I live this way. How can we put such a high value on something that has no chance at ever living (outside a womb), and turn a deaf ear to people that live and suffer, every day? How is it that we are compassionate enough to not want to see an animal suffer (when we know there is no cure and prolonged suffering is inevitable), but not enough to allow me to die in peace, with dignity and respect? Instead, I'm asked to live an impossibly difficult life, that no one would ever choose for themselves. Why can't I have the same rights that my dog and cat have? I can't help but feel outraged, and desperately sad, at how trapped I am. I feel like I'm stuck with choices I don't want to choose, and no way out. So here I sit, forced to somehow keep moving forward, while keeping my sanity. It's a predicament I wouldn't wish on my worst of enemies.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
Taking Advice, Getting Feedback and Reasons For Sharing
I've gotten quite a lot of feedback, from my last two blogs, which I originally posted in the CareCure (online community related to spinal cord injuries)forums. Besides the wonderfully kind words of encouragement, and empathy, two of the key issues that were brought up were, possible alternatives to some of my most difficult obstacles and suggestions based on personal experience. I really appreciate all the ideas, feedback, life stories and concrete answers that people took the time to write. A few of the issues that I would like to highlight, and expand on reasoning, are the issuses of personal hygiene and my reasons for being so open about my life; even embarrassing and/or painful aspects of life, that most people find hard to discuss.
The number one, hardest aspect of living with paralysis for me is all of the highly intimate hygiene issues that I need help with. One of my biggest stressors is my bowel program (as itis for many people in my situation) and the only real alternative, would be to have a colostomy. This has been suggested to me, both recently and in the past. The thought of a colostomy bag is (to me) 1,000 times worst than BP. Just the thought of it depresses me. No offense, but it's definitely not for me Ideally, not having to go number two in the first place would be my solution. Unfortunately, that's not possible. The whole bodily fluid thing really disturbs me & grosses me out. I'd literally give up eating, if it meant I only had to deal with urine. As much as I love food, I gladly trade in a liquid diet, if it meant I could avoid needing to ever have a bowel movement. That's how much I hate the whole process, in general. I know it's a natural bodily function, that everyone does. I've just always been uptight about it. I guess you could say I'm somewhat "poopaphobic." I don't want to have to do it, or be around it, so the thought of having a bag of it strapped to me, is probably the worst case scenario I can think of. I've always been very private about bathroom & hygiene stuff, so being paralyzed is horrible. I find it disgusting and unladylike. I normaly would've never wanted to discuss it (and find it challenging to be so revealing), but feel it needs to be said, because the average has no clue, and would otherwise (and often does) take this fact for granted. I'm forced into having help with bathroom needs and it's never gotten any easier.
Sometimes I think being a woman, makes it even harder to accept & not be embarrassed. I don't know, but all my guy friends (able bodied & non) are way more easy going & less bothered by stuff like that. I mean let's put it this way, I dated someone for almost six years (also lived together for a portion of that time) and I never once passed gas in front of him. In the 24yrs I was on my feet I never once went number two in a public restroom. So you can imagine, having BP & a catheter is pretty much like hell on earth for me. Not to mention, as a woman, I have to also accept help every month with my period & other various feminine hygiene issues, that men just don't have. All in all, the adjustment to needing help with all personal care ADLs has been difficult.
Just the fact that so many people have to see me naked bothers me. I've always been self conscious and have had body imagine issues. My paralysis has not only made my body even more flawed, and less appealing, it also forces me into showing those flaws to numerous people (on a daily basis), over & over again. Its mortifying having to have someone else do stuff like brush my teeth, shave my under arms, clean my ears, help me blow my nose, acne, etc. I used to go to great lengths (as do most woman- doing my hair, make up, creams, shaving, plucking eye brows, getting manicures, exercise & diet) to look nice and to feel good about myself and feel as though I was pretty. It's not only embarrassing needing help with all personal hygiene needs, it also undermines my dignity and self worth. I'm forced into revealing every flaw and forced into having to ask for help, to look nice and correct imperfections, that under normal circumstances would be totally secret/private. It's all very challenging.
Like I've stated over, and over again, I'm just looking into all of my options. Living with paralysis has not been easy for me, and I'm tired of chronic sickness. This is not my first bout of serious depression, nor is it necessarily my last. Living with paralysis is a daily struggle. Choosing to fight to live the life that I have, is one of the few things that is still within my control. I will continue to do so for as long as I possibly can. I'm just the type of person that likes to think ahead, and take comfort in knowing that I'm in control of whatever aspects of my life that I CAN control. Paralysis has robbed me of almost all of my independence, so I'm forever seeking new ways to take back whatever control I can. My mind is one on the few assets I still have, and although it can at times be a curse (haunting memories and crippling grief) it has allowed me to be able to manage my own affairs and make decisions about my care, and overall quality of life. My mind continues to be the greatest source of pain, and although I realize that my perspective, way of thinking, and acceptance can change over time, I'm the only one that can make those changes. I struggle daily with the inner turmoil, of dealing with the life and choices paralysis gives me, and my sadness and desperate longing to have the type of life I once had. I realize it's a battle that only I can fight.
Last week I was chatting with an online buddy named Mariam about being so depressed lately. She's also a member of the AMFPA. We share a lot in common, in fact she's one of the few people on the planet that I feel like can truly understand where I'm coming from. We're around the same age, both artists and both suffer from similar spinal cord injuries. She's been injured for almost fifteen years now, and is one of those rare gems, in that she's somehow been able to keep it together, keep moving forward and find joy, despite being paralyzed. I had reached out to her, sending her a link to the CC thread, to get her point of view.
We had a long chat over Skype, and I really enjoyed our conversation. It always feels good to vent, but I particularly felt relieved talking with her, because I feel as though she really understands where I'm coming from, and has experienced much of the same struggles that I'm going through. She's amazingly positive and is seemingly much more open minded and receptive to going with the flow, and accepting her life with paralysis, much better than me. She'd probably agree with me, in saying that her current state of acceptance, and/or her strength and perseverance, as well as her current frame of mind, all took time, and that it might not make sense for me to beat myself up, for not being as strong as she is. She readily admitted to me, that living paralysis has also been a struggle for her, and that she also experienced a period of about two to three years (around her five year anniversary), where she was extremely depressed and in a similar dark state, that I'm currently experiencing. She was obviously, able to overcome it, and although she has her bad days, seems more well adjusted and happy with her life, living with paralysis, than I can ever imagine for myself, at this point.
During our discussion, I was expressing my wish for being understood, and how little I feel the average person really knows, what it's like to be paralyzed. I said I especially wished my loved ones understood how much I'm suffering, and how hard it is for me to live this way. Mariam then asked me, "What if they did understand? What difference would that make?" It was the first time anyone had ever asked me that, but I immediately knew the answer. I had to hold back tears to answer her, but managed to respond with a shaky voice, and tell her the answer that's been tugging at my heart and mind for a long time now. It's a two fold answer, that has been my driving force.
Firstly, I feel as though if people really understood what it's like to live a day in my shoes, they'd absolutely want to find a cure. I know in my heart, with 100% certainty, that anyone who could experience the grief, loss, fear, and sense of powerlessness that paralysis causes, that they'd want to fight with every ounce of energy they had to want to cure it. I feel as though, funding for research and emphasis on finding a cure to paralysis would take precedence and support would sky rocket, if more people really knew what it felt like to be paralyzed and to really comprehend how ethereal life is, and that their lives can change, as quickly as mine did, at any given moment. It is for this first reason that I pour my soul out to strangers and open my life up to the general public. As hard and as embarrassing as it can be at time, my goal is education. I want people to wake up, and understand what being paralyzed means.
Secondly, I feel as though if my loved ones truly understood my pain, and could experience all that I've been through, and all that I'm feeling, that they'd be able to let me go. This second part to the answer is what I told Mariam, and is what most often crosses my mind. I feel as though anyone that truly knew my pain, would be able to understand why I long to be free (by death, or by cure) and be at peace to let me go. I often think people expect me to keep marching forward, because they don't (and can't) know what they're really asking of me, and what a struggle it is every day. Although my loved ones might see my death as something horrible, and sad, I'm at a point where I'm tired of the daily battle and would welcome it. I just want to be free again. It doesn't mean I don't love my family and friends, and wouldn't miss them. They just don't understand how hard living can be. It's my hope that by sharing my thoughts and feelings I can help everyone (anyone who is willing to listen) to understand paralysis better and to motivate others to fight for a cure. Even if I never see a cure, I would feel at peace knowing I helped to prevent other people from ever having to experience all that I've been through, if I can inspire others to support finding a cure. Although I have little hope for a cure for myself, I do still wholeheartedly believe that a cure will be found some day. Again, I don't wish to upset anyone. I'm just being honest and sharing my thoughts, and where I'm at, right now in my struggle with paralysis.
Check out my buddy Mariam's website- I love her work!
www.mariampare.com
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
The number one, hardest aspect of living with paralysis for me is all of the highly intimate hygiene issues that I need help with. One of my biggest stressors is my bowel program (as itis for many people in my situation) and the only real alternative, would be to have a colostomy. This has been suggested to me, both recently and in the past. The thought of a colostomy bag is (to me) 1,000 times worst than BP. Just the thought of it depresses me. No offense, but it's definitely not for me Ideally, not having to go number two in the first place would be my solution. Unfortunately, that's not possible. The whole bodily fluid thing really disturbs me & grosses me out. I'd literally give up eating, if it meant I only had to deal with urine. As much as I love food, I gladly trade in a liquid diet, if it meant I could avoid needing to ever have a bowel movement. That's how much I hate the whole process, in general. I know it's a natural bodily function, that everyone does. I've just always been uptight about it. I guess you could say I'm somewhat "poopaphobic." I don't want to have to do it, or be around it, so the thought of having a bag of it strapped to me, is probably the worst case scenario I can think of. I've always been very private about bathroom & hygiene stuff, so being paralyzed is horrible. I find it disgusting and unladylike. I normaly would've never wanted to discuss it (and find it challenging to be so revealing), but feel it needs to be said, because the average has no clue, and would otherwise (and often does) take this fact for granted. I'm forced into having help with bathroom needs and it's never gotten any easier.
Sometimes I think being a woman, makes it even harder to accept & not be embarrassed. I don't know, but all my guy friends (able bodied & non) are way more easy going & less bothered by stuff like that. I mean let's put it this way, I dated someone for almost six years (also lived together for a portion of that time) and I never once passed gas in front of him. In the 24yrs I was on my feet I never once went number two in a public restroom. So you can imagine, having BP & a catheter is pretty much like hell on earth for me. Not to mention, as a woman, I have to also accept help every month with my period & other various feminine hygiene issues, that men just don't have. All in all, the adjustment to needing help with all personal care ADLs has been difficult.
Just the fact that so many people have to see me naked bothers me. I've always been self conscious and have had body imagine issues. My paralysis has not only made my body even more flawed, and less appealing, it also forces me into showing those flaws to numerous people (on a daily basis), over & over again. Its mortifying having to have someone else do stuff like brush my teeth, shave my under arms, clean my ears, help me blow my nose, acne, etc. I used to go to great lengths (as do most woman- doing my hair, make up, creams, shaving, plucking eye brows, getting manicures, exercise & diet) to look nice and to feel good about myself and feel as though I was pretty. It's not only embarrassing needing help with all personal hygiene needs, it also undermines my dignity and self worth. I'm forced into revealing every flaw and forced into having to ask for help, to look nice and correct imperfections, that under normal circumstances would be totally secret/private. It's all very challenging.
Like I've stated over, and over again, I'm just looking into all of my options. Living with paralysis has not been easy for me, and I'm tired of chronic sickness. This is not my first bout of serious depression, nor is it necessarily my last. Living with paralysis is a daily struggle. Choosing to fight to live the life that I have, is one of the few things that is still within my control. I will continue to do so for as long as I possibly can. I'm just the type of person that likes to think ahead, and take comfort in knowing that I'm in control of whatever aspects of my life that I CAN control. Paralysis has robbed me of almost all of my independence, so I'm forever seeking new ways to take back whatever control I can. My mind is one on the few assets I still have, and although it can at times be a curse (haunting memories and crippling grief) it has allowed me to be able to manage my own affairs and make decisions about my care, and overall quality of life. My mind continues to be the greatest source of pain, and although I realize that my perspective, way of thinking, and acceptance can change over time, I'm the only one that can make those changes. I struggle daily with the inner turmoil, of dealing with the life and choices paralysis gives me, and my sadness and desperate longing to have the type of life I once had. I realize it's a battle that only I can fight.
Last week I was chatting with an online buddy named Mariam about being so depressed lately. She's also a member of the AMFPA. We share a lot in common, in fact she's one of the few people on the planet that I feel like can truly understand where I'm coming from. We're around the same age, both artists and both suffer from similar spinal cord injuries. She's been injured for almost fifteen years now, and is one of those rare gems, in that she's somehow been able to keep it together, keep moving forward and find joy, despite being paralyzed. I had reached out to her, sending her a link to the CC thread, to get her point of view.
We had a long chat over Skype, and I really enjoyed our conversation. It always feels good to vent, but I particularly felt relieved talking with her, because I feel as though she really understands where I'm coming from, and has experienced much of the same struggles that I'm going through. She's amazingly positive and is seemingly much more open minded and receptive to going with the flow, and accepting her life with paralysis, much better than me. She'd probably agree with me, in saying that her current state of acceptance, and/or her strength and perseverance, as well as her current frame of mind, all took time, and that it might not make sense for me to beat myself up, for not being as strong as she is. She readily admitted to me, that living paralysis has also been a struggle for her, and that she also experienced a period of about two to three years (around her five year anniversary), where she was extremely depressed and in a similar dark state, that I'm currently experiencing. She was obviously, able to overcome it, and although she has her bad days, seems more well adjusted and happy with her life, living with paralysis, than I can ever imagine for myself, at this point.
During our discussion, I was expressing my wish for being understood, and how little I feel the average person really knows, what it's like to be paralyzed. I said I especially wished my loved ones understood how much I'm suffering, and how hard it is for me to live this way. Mariam then asked me, "What if they did understand? What difference would that make?" It was the first time anyone had ever asked me that, but I immediately knew the answer. I had to hold back tears to answer her, but managed to respond with a shaky voice, and tell her the answer that's been tugging at my heart and mind for a long time now. It's a two fold answer, that has been my driving force.
Firstly, I feel as though if people really understood what it's like to live a day in my shoes, they'd absolutely want to find a cure. I know in my heart, with 100% certainty, that anyone who could experience the grief, loss, fear, and sense of powerlessness that paralysis causes, that they'd want to fight with every ounce of energy they had to want to cure it. I feel as though, funding for research and emphasis on finding a cure to paralysis would take precedence and support would sky rocket, if more people really knew what it felt like to be paralyzed and to really comprehend how ethereal life is, and that their lives can change, as quickly as mine did, at any given moment. It is for this first reason that I pour my soul out to strangers and open my life up to the general public. As hard and as embarrassing as it can be at time, my goal is education. I want people to wake up, and understand what being paralyzed means.
Secondly, I feel as though if my loved ones truly understood my pain, and could experience all that I've been through, and all that I'm feeling, that they'd be able to let me go. This second part to the answer is what I told Mariam, and is what most often crosses my mind. I feel as though anyone that truly knew my pain, would be able to understand why I long to be free (by death, or by cure) and be at peace to let me go. I often think people expect me to keep marching forward, because they don't (and can't) know what they're really asking of me, and what a struggle it is every day. Although my loved ones might see my death as something horrible, and sad, I'm at a point where I'm tired of the daily battle and would welcome it. I just want to be free again. It doesn't mean I don't love my family and friends, and wouldn't miss them. They just don't understand how hard living can be. It's my hope that by sharing my thoughts and feelings I can help everyone (anyone who is willing to listen) to understand paralysis better and to motivate others to fight for a cure. Even if I never see a cure, I would feel at peace knowing I helped to prevent other people from ever having to experience all that I've been through, if I can inspire others to support finding a cure. Although I have little hope for a cure for myself, I do still wholeheartedly believe that a cure will be found some day. Again, I don't wish to upset anyone. I'm just being honest and sharing my thoughts, and where I'm at, right now in my struggle with paralysis.
Check out my buddy Mariam's website- I love her work!
www.mariampare.com
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
It's Hard Feeling Happy, When You're Feeling Sick.
As I mentioned in my last blog, I've been doing a lot of soul searching and actively seeking out answers to some tough questions. My state of mind is an ever changing battleground, where I find myself forever fighting to find reasons for why I'm suffering, and looking for motivation and purpose to keep moving forward. One of the biggest obstacles that makes living with paralysis such a struggle for me, is chronic illness and feeling physically sick. The near constant discomfort has left me feeling very worn down and has pushed me to examine my life very closely, and ask myself why I try so hard, despite my unhappiness, and if there are any solutions out there, and what all of my options are, regarding my life, as it is.
I recently discussed some of these questions with my doctor. He was kind of vague in his responses. He's a PA with a visiting physicians group. He sees me at home about once a month. Most of his patients are elderly. It gets frustrating at times (even when I go to the hospital) because most doctors (including mine) aren't specialized in dealing with spinal cord injuries. I feel like most of the time we're just playing a guessing game, trying to pin point why I'm feeling sick. Most of the time, I get told it's a UTI or possibly neurological. In other words, they don't really know for sure. Understandably, it's probably just as frustrating for them, because I can only tell them secondary symptoms (since I can't actually feel what's going on) like fever, chills, chest pressure, sweating, etc. Given the fact that I have a catheter, my urine specimens always come back positive for infection, so half the time I wonder if it's a UTI that's making me feel sick or something else. All we ever do is run tests, but never find anything concrete. Honestly, I don't know that a specialist could do much better. I'd just feel more confident if I had more access to doctors that had more experience dealing w/SCIs. The only place we really have in NJ for outpatient care is Kessler Rehab, which is an hour commute. It's just not worth going there, every time I feel sick.
Aside from the emotional trauma and dealing with an insane amount of loss, living with paralysis has been physically taxing as well. One of the biggest problems for me personally, is my ever diminishing tolerance for sitting in my chair. My ability to sit in my chair, be productive, go places (not that I'm often itching to go out) and do things, has gradually become more and more uncomfortable over the past couple of years. The discomfort and the chronic sickness has made it very hard for me to find joy in the things I used to. Ever since I had a bed sore (6cm wide and deep- at its worst- on my upper thigh, below my backside) back in '08 my tolerance for sitting just isn't the same. The first couple of years post accident I could comfortably be up in my chair for 8hrs a day, 7 days a week. Now, I get out of bed on bowel program days (which ends up being like 3 hours on a commode chair-for BP & my shower) and then spend the rest of the day in bed; sitting up in bed for an additional hour or so around dinner time. I try to get into my power chair on non BP days, but lately it all depends how I'm feeling. The thing is, I end up getting very uncomfortable in my chair after only sitting for a few hours. My symptoms vary, but it usually starts off with a clammy sensation, followed by weird tingling throughout my body, then further followed by a gradual pressure building up in my chest and/or abdomen. On top of that, I'm constantly dealing with leg spasms, phantom pain and tingling in my legs and feet. I end up asking my aides or family to check if my catheter is kinked, if my clothes are wrinkled, if Id had an episode of incontinence, or any other visible problem, and we almost always come up short.
I do periodically weight shift while I'm in my chair, and have only ever had two bedsores (one was on my elbow). Most of the time there's just no real rhyme or reason for why I start feeling symptomatic. The chest pressure gets really bad though. It feels like someone is filling me up with air and squeezing my sides all at the same time. I also start to get lethargic and feverish after about four hours of sitting. I've had various tests done to rule out serious heart or lung issues: blood works up, X-ray, CAT scan, sonogram & EKG. All of them came back fine. I take Prilosec OTC and have ruled out indigestion for the most part, because there's no obvious connection to meal times. I had a OBGYN exam to rule out anything on that end, nothing. Although, I have noticed a change in my cycle this last year, in the sense that around that week I feel worse than usual. During that week I'm usually achier, more tired and have more frequent fevers. All in all, it's been a vicious cycle, that has kept be bed bound most of the time. For whatever reason, the symptoms do subside a bit more when I'm lying down (not completely though). Knowing I'm going to feel uncomfortable makes me not want to bother getting up, which in turn lessens my tolerance for sitting up. It's a lose-lose situation. I'm just so tired of feeling nauseous, feverish, achy, and down right icky, 75% of the time. It's kind of like having the flu five days a week. It makes it very hard to be happy, or motivated, when you have the chills and feel discomfort.
I'm at my wits end. On one hand, I want to get up and be more productive. I end up feeling guilty and worthless for being in bed all the time. On the other hand, I legitimately feel sick, and lack the drive to do stuff and risk feeling worse. On BP days for example, I'm wiped by the time the nurse is gone, I'm showered and have eaten breakfast. Just sitting on the commode for three hours is taxing on my body, not to mention the constant stimulation the nurses have to do, to make me go to the bathroom. The whole process is both mentally and physically traumatic for me. It has also created hemorrhoids (how wonderful) that are directly irritated further by the entire process. I never had them before my accident, but I hear they are extremely painful. Although I can't feel the pain directly, it could be one of the contributing factors to my mystery symptoms and discomfort.
I end up chalking up a lot of my discomfort to autonomic dysreflexia, which is something many people with paralysis have to deal with. AD is the body's way of compensating for the fact that Ican't feel It is like nature's way of giving me a warning system. When there's something wrong, like my catheter being pulled, or an ingrown toenail, my body responds by elevating my blood pressure. The alleviation in blood pressure presents itself in different ways: chills, profuse sweating, muscle spams and throbbing headaches. If I start to feel symptomatic, I usually assume it's AD related and try to find the cause. If we do find a reason and fix the problem (such as repositioning me, or flushing the catheter) the symptoms subside almost immediately. Unfortunately, most of the time we don't find an obvious reason. So although I know my depression is a contributing factor to me being unmotivated and dissatisfied with my life, my reasons are not all in my head. My physical condition (aka-paralyzed) is the number one contributing factor to my depression, and my overall health and comfort has made it even harder to remain upbeat. Able bodied or not, no one likes being sick.
Having no real diagnosis or treatment for the chronic pressure, fevers (always low grade and always in the evening) and cold sweats makes me very frustrated and adds to my sense of hopelessness. As it is, I take over a dozen pills every day, and have the BP & catheter to contend with, all of which I absolutely hate. All of which, is unfortunately necessary to keep me alive, and relatively comfortable and healthy. The only problem is, it's obviously not working- at least not well enough. It's especially aggravating that I seem to be forever adding more pills and seeing few results. I take three different medication to help with depression, anxiety and insomnia (Pristiq, Remeron & Xanax). I take four different medications for my bowel & bladder related issues (Senekot, Colace, Detrol & Ditripan), on top of watching my diet. I watch my calorie intake and make sure to eat lots of fruits and/or veggies. Then there's the Prilosec, which is supposed to help with stomach issues and a multi-vitamin. It's bad enough being paralyzed, but feeling gross on top of that, just makes me want to curl up and sleep forever. It's like having a chronic illness, on top of a chronic condition. There's no cure in sight for my paralysis, and there's seemingly nothing to make me feel better. I wonder how many people with spinal cord injuries deal with similar problems. It's hard feeling like no one understands you and even harder feeling like there are no answers. I'm just stuck dealing with it; just like all the emotional pain.
Like I said, I've been feeling very down and tired of struggling so hard to cope with my situation, only to feel empty and sad. It's hard fighting for a life you hate living. That's why I started to seriously consider what it would mean to stop fighting. I mean, in terms of the physical and medical repercussions. It's not to say that I have already decided to stop trying. I'm literally just searching for answers. During these last five and a half years, few people have had any concrete answers to give me. There's no recipe for how to cope with having your life turned upside down over night, or how to deal with finding yourself complete stripped of yur independence. Everyone's situation and injury is different. The emotional scars and finding reasons to move forward have to be dealt with on your own terms. No one can say or do anything to make the emotional aspect of dealing with paralysis easier.
It's just infuriatingly frustrating when there's not any answers for the physical stuff. I get so angry sometimes. It seems so unfair that medical science has no cure; that they patched me up and sentenced me to live the life I have. It seems absurd and cruel to me at times, that my loved ones, doctors and nurses expect me to be happy, being paralyzed. It is not a high quality of life, no matter how you slice it; not to me. I feel I have the right to know all the options available to me, because at the end of the day, I'm the one living my life. I'm the one suffering, both physically and mentally. I'm the one that has to endure bowel programs, chronic aches, lack of privacy, cope with all of my memories and all of the loss. I never get a break from it. I never have the luxury of not thinking about it. I'm stuck, in every sense of the word.
I want to know what to expect if I were to say, enough is enough. What would happen if I stop having a bowel regime? What would that do, to a person in my condition? My doctor didn't really have an answer to that question. So I'm left wondering, who would have the answers? I'm not even sure who to ask, for some of my questions. That's why I've opened the subject up to general discussion. I figure there might be people out there who went through something similar with loved ones, or doctors, or nurses that have experience, working with people with paralysis and palliative care. My doctor thought I would qualify for hospice, if I decided to refuse nutrition, hydration and my treatments. He didn't know for sure. I'm wondering who would know. It's not as if I'm taking this matter lightly, and just saying I'm too sad, so I'm going to stop eating. I'm just curious to know exactly what my rights are and what to expect, from a medical perspective, if I chose not to sustain my life; if I decided to refuse help. In a way, I feel like everyone is tip-toeing around the answers, even if they know them, out of fear. It's as if people think the moment I have a few answers I'm going to die that very day. That's not the case. Surely, the thought of starving myself to death does not sound pleasant, and I'm in no rush to find out what it's like. I have looked into it though, as it is one of my only means of escape.
I've read up on the right to refuse nutrition and hydration. There is information based on eye witness accounts. For example, I read it's best not to intake any water at all, because it only prolongs the suffering. I read instead, you should just use a sponge to moisten the lips, to help alleviate the dryness, due to thirst and dehydration. I want answers, because if I really felt as though I absolutely had no will left to fight, I'd want to make my last days the most comfortable as possible. Refusing bowel program and what ever else, I'd decide to stop, would be careful decisions that I want to make based thinking things through and only ever as an absolute last resort.
I realize this might all seem morbid, and/or suicidal to the average healthy individual. The truth of the matter is, I have very little control over anything in my life and I've been hell and back. I know exactly what it's like to be on the brink of death. I've experienced being dependent on machines for life support. My life span is not that of the average person. I am not healthy. I know what it's like to feel like a burden and to have put family in the position to have to make life and death decisions for me. Therefore, I feel as though I both have to and want consider ALL of my options. I've already had to put my wishes down in writing, in my advanced directive, in case I'm unable to communicate my wants. I'm just at a place right now, where I want to know all my options, even if I decide to exercise while I still can communicate them. I mean, my living well basically already states everything I'm asking. I'm just wondering what I'd go through, and/or experience physically, based on medical experience and advice.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I recently discussed some of these questions with my doctor. He was kind of vague in his responses. He's a PA with a visiting physicians group. He sees me at home about once a month. Most of his patients are elderly. It gets frustrating at times (even when I go to the hospital) because most doctors (including mine) aren't specialized in dealing with spinal cord injuries. I feel like most of the time we're just playing a guessing game, trying to pin point why I'm feeling sick. Most of the time, I get told it's a UTI or possibly neurological. In other words, they don't really know for sure. Understandably, it's probably just as frustrating for them, because I can only tell them secondary symptoms (since I can't actually feel what's going on) like fever, chills, chest pressure, sweating, etc. Given the fact that I have a catheter, my urine specimens always come back positive for infection, so half the time I wonder if it's a UTI that's making me feel sick or something else. All we ever do is run tests, but never find anything concrete. Honestly, I don't know that a specialist could do much better. I'd just feel more confident if I had more access to doctors that had more experience dealing w/SCIs. The only place we really have in NJ for outpatient care is Kessler Rehab, which is an hour commute. It's just not worth going there, every time I feel sick.
Aside from the emotional trauma and dealing with an insane amount of loss, living with paralysis has been physically taxing as well. One of the biggest problems for me personally, is my ever diminishing tolerance for sitting in my chair. My ability to sit in my chair, be productive, go places (not that I'm often itching to go out) and do things, has gradually become more and more uncomfortable over the past couple of years. The discomfort and the chronic sickness has made it very hard for me to find joy in the things I used to. Ever since I had a bed sore (6cm wide and deep- at its worst- on my upper thigh, below my backside) back in '08 my tolerance for sitting just isn't the same. The first couple of years post accident I could comfortably be up in my chair for 8hrs a day, 7 days a week. Now, I get out of bed on bowel program days (which ends up being like 3 hours on a commode chair-for BP & my shower) and then spend the rest of the day in bed; sitting up in bed for an additional hour or so around dinner time. I try to get into my power chair on non BP days, but lately it all depends how I'm feeling. The thing is, I end up getting very uncomfortable in my chair after only sitting for a few hours. My symptoms vary, but it usually starts off with a clammy sensation, followed by weird tingling throughout my body, then further followed by a gradual pressure building up in my chest and/or abdomen. On top of that, I'm constantly dealing with leg spasms, phantom pain and tingling in my legs and feet. I end up asking my aides or family to check if my catheter is kinked, if my clothes are wrinkled, if Id had an episode of incontinence, or any other visible problem, and we almost always come up short.
I do periodically weight shift while I'm in my chair, and have only ever had two bedsores (one was on my elbow). Most of the time there's just no real rhyme or reason for why I start feeling symptomatic. The chest pressure gets really bad though. It feels like someone is filling me up with air and squeezing my sides all at the same time. I also start to get lethargic and feverish after about four hours of sitting. I've had various tests done to rule out serious heart or lung issues: blood works up, X-ray, CAT scan, sonogram & EKG. All of them came back fine. I take Prilosec OTC and have ruled out indigestion for the most part, because there's no obvious connection to meal times. I had a OBGYN exam to rule out anything on that end, nothing. Although, I have noticed a change in my cycle this last year, in the sense that around that week I feel worse than usual. During that week I'm usually achier, more tired and have more frequent fevers. All in all, it's been a vicious cycle, that has kept be bed bound most of the time. For whatever reason, the symptoms do subside a bit more when I'm lying down (not completely though). Knowing I'm going to feel uncomfortable makes me not want to bother getting up, which in turn lessens my tolerance for sitting up. It's a lose-lose situation. I'm just so tired of feeling nauseous, feverish, achy, and down right icky, 75% of the time. It's kind of like having the flu five days a week. It makes it very hard to be happy, or motivated, when you have the chills and feel discomfort.
I'm at my wits end. On one hand, I want to get up and be more productive. I end up feeling guilty and worthless for being in bed all the time. On the other hand, I legitimately feel sick, and lack the drive to do stuff and risk feeling worse. On BP days for example, I'm wiped by the time the nurse is gone, I'm showered and have eaten breakfast. Just sitting on the commode for three hours is taxing on my body, not to mention the constant stimulation the nurses have to do, to make me go to the bathroom. The whole process is both mentally and physically traumatic for me. It has also created hemorrhoids (how wonderful) that are directly irritated further by the entire process. I never had them before my accident, but I hear they are extremely painful. Although I can't feel the pain directly, it could be one of the contributing factors to my mystery symptoms and discomfort.
I end up chalking up a lot of my discomfort to autonomic dysreflexia, which is something many people with paralysis have to deal with. AD is the body's way of compensating for the fact that Ican't feel It is like nature's way of giving me a warning system. When there's something wrong, like my catheter being pulled, or an ingrown toenail, my body responds by elevating my blood pressure. The alleviation in blood pressure presents itself in different ways: chills, profuse sweating, muscle spams and throbbing headaches. If I start to feel symptomatic, I usually assume it's AD related and try to find the cause. If we do find a reason and fix the problem (such as repositioning me, or flushing the catheter) the symptoms subside almost immediately. Unfortunately, most of the time we don't find an obvious reason. So although I know my depression is a contributing factor to me being unmotivated and dissatisfied with my life, my reasons are not all in my head. My physical condition (aka-paralyzed) is the number one contributing factor to my depression, and my overall health and comfort has made it even harder to remain upbeat. Able bodied or not, no one likes being sick.
Having no real diagnosis or treatment for the chronic pressure, fevers (always low grade and always in the evening) and cold sweats makes me very frustrated and adds to my sense of hopelessness. As it is, I take over a dozen pills every day, and have the BP & catheter to contend with, all of which I absolutely hate. All of which, is unfortunately necessary to keep me alive, and relatively comfortable and healthy. The only problem is, it's obviously not working- at least not well enough. It's especially aggravating that I seem to be forever adding more pills and seeing few results. I take three different medication to help with depression, anxiety and insomnia (Pristiq, Remeron & Xanax). I take four different medications for my bowel & bladder related issues (Senekot, Colace, Detrol & Ditripan), on top of watching my diet. I watch my calorie intake and make sure to eat lots of fruits and/or veggies. Then there's the Prilosec, which is supposed to help with stomach issues and a multi-vitamin. It's bad enough being paralyzed, but feeling gross on top of that, just makes me want to curl up and sleep forever. It's like having a chronic illness, on top of a chronic condition. There's no cure in sight for my paralysis, and there's seemingly nothing to make me feel better. I wonder how many people with spinal cord injuries deal with similar problems. It's hard feeling like no one understands you and even harder feeling like there are no answers. I'm just stuck dealing with it; just like all the emotional pain.
Like I said, I've been feeling very down and tired of struggling so hard to cope with my situation, only to feel empty and sad. It's hard fighting for a life you hate living. That's why I started to seriously consider what it would mean to stop fighting. I mean, in terms of the physical and medical repercussions. It's not to say that I have already decided to stop trying. I'm literally just searching for answers. During these last five and a half years, few people have had any concrete answers to give me. There's no recipe for how to cope with having your life turned upside down over night, or how to deal with finding yourself complete stripped of yur independence. Everyone's situation and injury is different. The emotional scars and finding reasons to move forward have to be dealt with on your own terms. No one can say or do anything to make the emotional aspect of dealing with paralysis easier.
It's just infuriatingly frustrating when there's not any answers for the physical stuff. I get so angry sometimes. It seems so unfair that medical science has no cure; that they patched me up and sentenced me to live the life I have. It seems absurd and cruel to me at times, that my loved ones, doctors and nurses expect me to be happy, being paralyzed. It is not a high quality of life, no matter how you slice it; not to me. I feel I have the right to know all the options available to me, because at the end of the day, I'm the one living my life. I'm the one suffering, both physically and mentally. I'm the one that has to endure bowel programs, chronic aches, lack of privacy, cope with all of my memories and all of the loss. I never get a break from it. I never have the luxury of not thinking about it. I'm stuck, in every sense of the word.
I want to know what to expect if I were to say, enough is enough. What would happen if I stop having a bowel regime? What would that do, to a person in my condition? My doctor didn't really have an answer to that question. So I'm left wondering, who would have the answers? I'm not even sure who to ask, for some of my questions. That's why I've opened the subject up to general discussion. I figure there might be people out there who went through something similar with loved ones, or doctors, or nurses that have experience, working with people with paralysis and palliative care. My doctor thought I would qualify for hospice, if I decided to refuse nutrition, hydration and my treatments. He didn't know for sure. I'm wondering who would know. It's not as if I'm taking this matter lightly, and just saying I'm too sad, so I'm going to stop eating. I'm just curious to know exactly what my rights are and what to expect, from a medical perspective, if I chose not to sustain my life; if I decided to refuse help. In a way, I feel like everyone is tip-toeing around the answers, even if they know them, out of fear. It's as if people think the moment I have a few answers I'm going to die that very day. That's not the case. Surely, the thought of starving myself to death does not sound pleasant, and I'm in no rush to find out what it's like. I have looked into it though, as it is one of my only means of escape.
I've read up on the right to refuse nutrition and hydration. There is information based on eye witness accounts. For example, I read it's best not to intake any water at all, because it only prolongs the suffering. I read instead, you should just use a sponge to moisten the lips, to help alleviate the dryness, due to thirst and dehydration. I want answers, because if I really felt as though I absolutely had no will left to fight, I'd want to make my last days the most comfortable as possible. Refusing bowel program and what ever else, I'd decide to stop, would be careful decisions that I want to make based thinking things through and only ever as an absolute last resort.
I realize this might all seem morbid, and/or suicidal to the average healthy individual. The truth of the matter is, I have very little control over anything in my life and I've been hell and back. I know exactly what it's like to be on the brink of death. I've experienced being dependent on machines for life support. My life span is not that of the average person. I am not healthy. I know what it's like to feel like a burden and to have put family in the position to have to make life and death decisions for me. Therefore, I feel as though I both have to and want consider ALL of my options. I've already had to put my wishes down in writing, in my advanced directive, in case I'm unable to communicate my wants. I'm just at a place right now, where I want to know all my options, even if I decide to exercise while I still can communicate them. I mean, my living well basically already states everything I'm asking. I'm just wondering what I'd go through, and/or experience physically, based on medical experience and advice.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Questioning Life & My Options
I've come to a point in my life where I find myself at a crossroad. I’ve been struggling the last five and a half years living with paralysis. It’s impossible to truly express the emotional rollercoaster ride that I’ve been on, since June 2005. I’ve tried my best to be open, about my thoughts and feelings. I’ve tried very hard to convey the magnitude of loss that I sustained, due to my injury, as well as the hardships of living with paralysis on a daily basis. Despite my best efforts, I feel like the average person can never understand how much I’ve suffered and continue to suffer. Words alone, aren’t enough to garnish empathy; sympathy perhaps. Even the people closest to me, that witness all that I have to endure, can never know what it’s like to live in my shoes. Although I often seek advice from other people living with paralysis, the pool of people that have/are lived/living through what I have/am, is very small. There aren’t many women in their early thirties with high level, complete spinal cord injuries. Even those that are out there, everyone’s life before their injury and at the point of injury differ. It’s near impossible to find other women that were injured in their mid twenties, that also lost careers, relationships, and everything else in between. While I appreciate the input and advice I’ve been given by injured men, I feel a huge disconnect and feel very isolated and lonely. The few women I have met, that I do consider able to understand me, are mostly all struggling just as much as I am, to cope with the insane amount of loss and change that our injuries have left us with.
Paralysis is so unique a state of being, that many times the things I experience (sensations, or lack thereof) have no comparison to when I was on my feet. Unless you’ve lived through it, you have no idea what it’s like. Anything you imagine is pale in comparison to what it’s like to live with it. There is no way to simulate the lack of feeling, on such as scale as a high level spinal cord injury. I’m not just paralyzed, I’m imprisoned. I’m cut off from 85% of my body. I can only feel my head, neck, shoulders, some of my outer arm (only up to & not including the elbow) and half of my breasts (top half). It’s as if the rest of me no longer exists in certain respects, like outside touch, or stimulation. Unfortunately, I do feel phantom pains, pressure and discomfort, that has no real rhyme or reason, and usually has no medical diagnosis, or solution. There is no way to fully grasp how it feels to lose all sense of independence and dignity overnight. My spinal cord injury stole my ability to be self sufficient in a matter of seconds, and I’ve been wrestling with how to cope with the void left behind, for almost six years. My injury has left me feeling constantly vulnerable, anxious, depressed, full of regret, lost, deprived and scared. While I’ve tried my best to remain positive, despite the bleak reality that a cure is most likely never going to be a reality for me, I feel justified in feeling the way that I do. I’ve made proactive steps ever since day one, to stay as positive and as mentally strong as possible, so that I could somehow keep moving forward, against my inner dissatisfaction of my life and the compromises I’m forced into making every day. I’ve sought counseling, gone to therapy, take an ever growing number of pills (anti-depressants, sleep aides and anti-anxiety meds), share with my peers, write, paint, pray meditate, distraction, etc. and feel like I’m running on vapors and running out of options. I’ve been pushing forward more so for my loved ones, than for myself, and find it increasingly harder to find reason, and/or motivation to essentially keep torturing myself.
It’s maddeningly frustrating to feel like I constantly have to justify for why I feel so down. I get so angry inside and just want to scream sometimes, “are you blind?!” to those people who expect me to accept all that I’ve lost and just to keep moving on with a smile on my face. Most of the time I assume it’s ignorance that makes people have unrealistic expectations. Reality is, most people don’t have a clue what it’s like to be forced into (out of lack of choice) accepting help: to need another adult to bathe, feed, and dress you, to have no control over bodily functions, to need a bowel regime and catheter, to need another person’s help with intimate hygiene tasks, like mouth care, shaving and menstruation, to need help for the smallest and otherwise seemingly insignificant tasks like scratching and itch, or fixing a wrinkle in your clothing, almost total lack of privacy, to be devoid of sensations and cut off from almost all physical intimacy and near total deprivation of sexual pleasure. Is it right for people to expect me (and people in my similar situation) to keep living this way, knowing full well that no one would ever knowingly choose to live this way? I mean, when someone is newly injured there’s always the hope of a cure. Once an individual is medically stable, they’re pretty much stuck living with paralysis. Once reality really hits, and/or hope for a cure fades away, what choices are we left with? Do I really have a choice but to cope the best as I can? Is it right to impose such a harsh quality of life onto someone? At times, I wish I wouldn’t have had that initial hope; that I would’ve given up when death would’ve come easily. Instead, I fought (and continue) to live a compromised version of my old life. It just never seems to get any easier. In fact, coping has gotten progressively harder, and my hope for my old life has faded away. I’m nearly always sad and feel trapped, with few options.
Since my injury, I’ve thought long and hard about quality of life, and about death. I’ve had to. I’ve put my wishes down in my living will, and often wish I would’ve seriously considered what I deemed as quality, before my accident. If I had the living will I have now, at the time of my accident, I would’ve spared myself the last five and a half years of pain. After the trauma and sheer terror of my first year, post accident, I know for certain that I never want to live reliant on machines. I feel it’s bad enough to be completely reliant on people and medication, let alone needing a ventilator, or treatment like dialysis. I’ve been on a ventilator, completely paralyzed. It was a hell on earth that I never want to relive. As scary as death seems to me, it offers the hope of eternal life, or at the very least, an escape from the chronic sickness and emotional pain that I feel every day. Although, I have mixed feelings of sadness for my loved ones and fear, for myself, I find myself contemplating my own mortality on a daily basis. What options do I have? It’s not so easy as just saying, “I give up.” If that were the case, I’m sure many people that are living with paralysis would not be here. At this point, my future seems bleak and it’s hard to be in the dark state that I’m currently in.
There are like I said earlier, people out there that do have a better understanding of my situation, and are somehow able to surpass all of obstacles of paralysis and find happiness. So then I begin to wonder if I’m just weak, for not being able to find joy, and for being so unhappy. Of the people that I know that are living with paralysis, I can’t help but wonder how it is that some of them have continued to try moving forward for decades. I don’t want to live into my forties, if it means I’m still living in a chair. However, I find “giving up” takes perhaps more courage than just scraping by. What are my realist options? I have the right to refuse nutrition, hydration, medications and treatments. What does that really mean? I feel like a lot of my initial strength to fight to live, came out of ignorance and denial of what my life would be like. I’m at a point where I feel like I’m on the verge of going crazy, and I don’t want to choose to die out of ignorance either. The process I’d have to endure, in order to die, might be so unbearable that I might be tempted into backing out, and fight to live again. It’s a horribly sad thought that I’ve thought about many times. Understandably, most people don’t want to contemplate death, or indulge my suicidal tendencies, by giving me straight answers. Then again, up until recently, I was not seeking out specific answers.
I feel as though I’m battling myself, in finding reasons to keep moving forward. In the late hours of the night, I think about my life and the choices I’ve made. I beat myself up over regrets and find myself pleading and begging God to be merciful. Every night, for a long while, I’ve asked God (if he/she exists) to either cure me, or take me. Obviously, I’ve yet to get a response. I can’t help but wrestle with myself over morals and ethics. I wonder if giving up on relying on others is the same as taking my own life. The superstitious (or perhaps faith) part of me wants to know if God would consider refusal of help suicide, and what that would mean for my soul (if I have one). No one can give me concrete answers to those questions. All I know is that it is illegal for my loved ones, or medical professionals to assist me. Therefore, I can’t ask for an injection, or a handful of pills (a quick, peaceful death), without putting that person at criminal liability and/or horrible guilt. I know that if it were legal here (like in Switzerland) I could find it in myself to ask for help, but since it isn’t, I can’t and don’t expect anyone to ruin their own life, for the sake of ending mine. Therefore, my only real options are to refuse the treatments, medication and/or food and water that are keeping me alive. I am curious to know the medical repercussions of such a decision would be and what I’d have to endure, if I chose to exercise my rights. What kind of death would it be, to starve myself of food and water? How long would it take? What would happen if I refused to continue my bowel regime and/or stopped taking my medication? Would those decisions cause a lot of physical pain? Would I qualify for palliative care, like hospice? Would I be entitled to morphine, or something similar, to ease the pain and stress of hunger, impaction, and/or whatever discomforts that refusing those things would bring? What means would be the quickest, least painful way? I did ask my doctor some of these questions, but only got vague responses. I think that’s mostly because he wants me to keep on living, but also out of lack of knowledge. So I’m left wondering if I can find the answers, and if so where? Although part of me feels like a failure, or weak for considering death, I feel like I have the right to know the answers to these questions.
I hesitated to even post this, as I'm sure there are many that might not agree with, or condone this type of dialogue, or conversation. I also know that this blog will cause my loved ones pain. In fact, I posted this on the CareCure forums first (about a week ago), in hopes of connecting with other people with SCIs, and giving myself a chance to gather some feedback from people in similar situations. I stirred up a decent response, and have been continuing to reply to the ideas, and comments that people have shared with me.
I’m just looking for answers. I don’t expect anyone to advocate the thought of giving up on life. I understand that there are many people that are fine with their lives, and living with paralysis. I also expect that most anyone who reads this will probably try and dissuade me from taking drastic measures and offer me I pep talk. I’m not even saying that I am giving up. I just want to know what my options are, at this point in my life. I realize that I’m at a very low point; that’s precisely why I’m seeking help. I don’t want to feel miserable, but I am.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Paralysis is so unique a state of being, that many times the things I experience (sensations, or lack thereof) have no comparison to when I was on my feet. Unless you’ve lived through it, you have no idea what it’s like. Anything you imagine is pale in comparison to what it’s like to live with it. There is no way to simulate the lack of feeling, on such as scale as a high level spinal cord injury. I’m not just paralyzed, I’m imprisoned. I’m cut off from 85% of my body. I can only feel my head, neck, shoulders, some of my outer arm (only up to & not including the elbow) and half of my breasts (top half). It’s as if the rest of me no longer exists in certain respects, like outside touch, or stimulation. Unfortunately, I do feel phantom pains, pressure and discomfort, that has no real rhyme or reason, and usually has no medical diagnosis, or solution. There is no way to fully grasp how it feels to lose all sense of independence and dignity overnight. My spinal cord injury stole my ability to be self sufficient in a matter of seconds, and I’ve been wrestling with how to cope with the void left behind, for almost six years. My injury has left me feeling constantly vulnerable, anxious, depressed, full of regret, lost, deprived and scared. While I’ve tried my best to remain positive, despite the bleak reality that a cure is most likely never going to be a reality for me, I feel justified in feeling the way that I do. I’ve made proactive steps ever since day one, to stay as positive and as mentally strong as possible, so that I could somehow keep moving forward, against my inner dissatisfaction of my life and the compromises I’m forced into making every day. I’ve sought counseling, gone to therapy, take an ever growing number of pills (anti-depressants, sleep aides and anti-anxiety meds), share with my peers, write, paint, pray meditate, distraction, etc. and feel like I’m running on vapors and running out of options. I’ve been pushing forward more so for my loved ones, than for myself, and find it increasingly harder to find reason, and/or motivation to essentially keep torturing myself.
It’s maddeningly frustrating to feel like I constantly have to justify for why I feel so down. I get so angry inside and just want to scream sometimes, “are you blind?!” to those people who expect me to accept all that I’ve lost and just to keep moving on with a smile on my face. Most of the time I assume it’s ignorance that makes people have unrealistic expectations. Reality is, most people don’t have a clue what it’s like to be forced into (out of lack of choice) accepting help: to need another adult to bathe, feed, and dress you, to have no control over bodily functions, to need a bowel regime and catheter, to need another person’s help with intimate hygiene tasks, like mouth care, shaving and menstruation, to need help for the smallest and otherwise seemingly insignificant tasks like scratching and itch, or fixing a wrinkle in your clothing, almost total lack of privacy, to be devoid of sensations and cut off from almost all physical intimacy and near total deprivation of sexual pleasure. Is it right for people to expect me (and people in my similar situation) to keep living this way, knowing full well that no one would ever knowingly choose to live this way? I mean, when someone is newly injured there’s always the hope of a cure. Once an individual is medically stable, they’re pretty much stuck living with paralysis. Once reality really hits, and/or hope for a cure fades away, what choices are we left with? Do I really have a choice but to cope the best as I can? Is it right to impose such a harsh quality of life onto someone? At times, I wish I wouldn’t have had that initial hope; that I would’ve given up when death would’ve come easily. Instead, I fought (and continue) to live a compromised version of my old life. It just never seems to get any easier. In fact, coping has gotten progressively harder, and my hope for my old life has faded away. I’m nearly always sad and feel trapped, with few options.
Since my injury, I’ve thought long and hard about quality of life, and about death. I’ve had to. I’ve put my wishes down in my living will, and often wish I would’ve seriously considered what I deemed as quality, before my accident. If I had the living will I have now, at the time of my accident, I would’ve spared myself the last five and a half years of pain. After the trauma and sheer terror of my first year, post accident, I know for certain that I never want to live reliant on machines. I feel it’s bad enough to be completely reliant on people and medication, let alone needing a ventilator, or treatment like dialysis. I’ve been on a ventilator, completely paralyzed. It was a hell on earth that I never want to relive. As scary as death seems to me, it offers the hope of eternal life, or at the very least, an escape from the chronic sickness and emotional pain that I feel every day. Although, I have mixed feelings of sadness for my loved ones and fear, for myself, I find myself contemplating my own mortality on a daily basis. What options do I have? It’s not so easy as just saying, “I give up.” If that were the case, I’m sure many people that are living with paralysis would not be here. At this point, my future seems bleak and it’s hard to be in the dark state that I’m currently in.
There are like I said earlier, people out there that do have a better understanding of my situation, and are somehow able to surpass all of obstacles of paralysis and find happiness. So then I begin to wonder if I’m just weak, for not being able to find joy, and for being so unhappy. Of the people that I know that are living with paralysis, I can’t help but wonder how it is that some of them have continued to try moving forward for decades. I don’t want to live into my forties, if it means I’m still living in a chair. However, I find “giving up” takes perhaps more courage than just scraping by. What are my realist options? I have the right to refuse nutrition, hydration, medications and treatments. What does that really mean? I feel like a lot of my initial strength to fight to live, came out of ignorance and denial of what my life would be like. I’m at a point where I feel like I’m on the verge of going crazy, and I don’t want to choose to die out of ignorance either. The process I’d have to endure, in order to die, might be so unbearable that I might be tempted into backing out, and fight to live again. It’s a horribly sad thought that I’ve thought about many times. Understandably, most people don’t want to contemplate death, or indulge my suicidal tendencies, by giving me straight answers. Then again, up until recently, I was not seeking out specific answers.
I feel as though I’m battling myself, in finding reasons to keep moving forward. In the late hours of the night, I think about my life and the choices I’ve made. I beat myself up over regrets and find myself pleading and begging God to be merciful. Every night, for a long while, I’ve asked God (if he/she exists) to either cure me, or take me. Obviously, I’ve yet to get a response. I can’t help but wrestle with myself over morals and ethics. I wonder if giving up on relying on others is the same as taking my own life. The superstitious (or perhaps faith) part of me wants to know if God would consider refusal of help suicide, and what that would mean for my soul (if I have one). No one can give me concrete answers to those questions. All I know is that it is illegal for my loved ones, or medical professionals to assist me. Therefore, I can’t ask for an injection, or a handful of pills (a quick, peaceful death), without putting that person at criminal liability and/or horrible guilt. I know that if it were legal here (like in Switzerland) I could find it in myself to ask for help, but since it isn’t, I can’t and don’t expect anyone to ruin their own life, for the sake of ending mine. Therefore, my only real options are to refuse the treatments, medication and/or food and water that are keeping me alive. I am curious to know the medical repercussions of such a decision would be and what I’d have to endure, if I chose to exercise my rights. What kind of death would it be, to starve myself of food and water? How long would it take? What would happen if I refused to continue my bowel regime and/or stopped taking my medication? Would those decisions cause a lot of physical pain? Would I qualify for palliative care, like hospice? Would I be entitled to morphine, or something similar, to ease the pain and stress of hunger, impaction, and/or whatever discomforts that refusing those things would bring? What means would be the quickest, least painful way? I did ask my doctor some of these questions, but only got vague responses. I think that’s mostly because he wants me to keep on living, but also out of lack of knowledge. So I’m left wondering if I can find the answers, and if so where? Although part of me feels like a failure, or weak for considering death, I feel like I have the right to know the answers to these questions.
I hesitated to even post this, as I'm sure there are many that might not agree with, or condone this type of dialogue, or conversation. I also know that this blog will cause my loved ones pain. In fact, I posted this on the CareCure forums first (about a week ago), in hopes of connecting with other people with SCIs, and giving myself a chance to gather some feedback from people in similar situations. I stirred up a decent response, and have been continuing to reply to the ideas, and comments that people have shared with me.
I’m just looking for answers. I don’t expect anyone to advocate the thought of giving up on life. I understand that there are many people that are fine with their lives, and living with paralysis. I also expect that most anyone who reads this will probably try and dissuade me from taking drastic measures and offer me I pep talk. I’m not even saying that I am giving up. I just want to know what my options are, at this point in my life. I realize that I’m at a very low point; that’s precisely why I’m seeking help. I don’t want to feel miserable, but I am.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Haiku: Wish To Be Set Free
Prisoner within
Trapped inside my own body
Longing to escape
Deprived of feeling
Yearning for lost sensations
Overwhelming loss
Haunting memories
Wishing for my freedom back
Wanting to forget
Praying for a cure
Accepting reality
Confronting my fears
Robbed of privacy
Feeling like I'm a burden
Stolen dignity
Envious of all
Dreaming of the life I had
Plagued by jealousy
Stranger in my skin
Life will never be the same
Wish to be set free
Trapped inside my own body
Longing to escape
Deprived of feeling
Yearning for lost sensations
Overwhelming loss
Haunting memories
Wishing for my freedom back
Wanting to forget
Praying for a cure
Accepting reality
Confronting my fears
Robbed of privacy
Feeling like I'm a burden
Stolen dignity
Envious of all
Dreaming of the life I had
Plagued by jealousy
Stranger in my skin
Life will never be the same
Wish to be set free
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Disappointing Myself & Facing Harsh Realities
My little sister recently had a baby. My niece being born is of course a big deal to me, and to our family at large. We were blessed that she is healthy, despite being born a bit early and it being a difficult pregnancy for my sister. She is the first of her generation on that side of my family, and quite possibly one of my parents' (mom and stepdad's) only grandchild for quite some time (possibly even ever). Ironically, my LITTLE sister is the youngest of my siblings (eight years my minor) and the first of us (on that side of my family tree, which is a bit complicated, thanks to divorce) to get married and start a family. While I'm genuinely thrilled about having a new addition to the family and eternally grateful that she's healthy and that my sister made it through the pregnancy, the last ten months have been a roller coaster ride of emotions for me.
On one hand, I don't even want to discuss my pain, for fear of upsetting my sister. I never want to be a downer, or feel like I'm diminishing other people's joy with my misery. I don't want her to think I'm not happy for her. I am. However, I'm also jealous and extremely disappointed in myself and in my life in general. I've already dealt with my two best friends getting married (one also has a son), and continue to experience the mix of happiness, pain, guilt, jealousy and frustration every time one of my friends gets married or has a baby. At thirty years old, and five and a half years post SCI, I actually thought I had started getting numb. My list of married friends, versus single friends tipped the scale a while back, and friends with kids is nearly there as well. I thought my skin had thickened a bit, as in the past year or so, it hasn't felt like the wind knocking out, gut punch that I used to experience, every time I had to check a friend off the "single without a family" list. It had seemingly toned done to more of a slap across the face. Regardless, I still find myself having a pity party and reexamining all my regrets and "what ifs" every time I see someone else enjoying the kind of life I thought I'd have.The only difference that time has seemed to make is that I had started to bounce back (emotionally) a bit quicker. My baby sister having a baby has been much harder to deal with, in comparison to any of my friends. Her pregnancy and the birth of my niece has stirred up all the crap that's constantly lurking in the back of mind and I hate myself for letting it effect me in the way that it has. The fact that she's my sister makes me that much more repulsed by my own selfish thoughts. I feel like I should be extra happy for my sister, instead of extra sad and hard on myself. I hesitate to express my feelings in this matter, and wonder if it's best to not say a peep.
On one hand, I don't even want to discuss my pain, for fear of upsetting my sister. I never want to be a downer, or feel like I'm diminishing other people's joy with my misery. I don't want her to think I'm not happy for her. I am. However, I'm also jealous and extremely disappointed in myself and in my life in general. I've already dealt with my two best friends getting married (one also has a son), and continue to experience the mix of happiness, pain, guilt, jealousy and frustration every time one of my friends gets married or has a baby. At thirty years old, and five and a half years post SCI, I actually thought I had started getting numb. My list of married friends, versus single friends tipped the scale a while back, and friends with kids is nearly there as well. I thought my skin had thickened a bit, as in the past year or so, it hasn't felt like the wind knocking out, gut punch that I used to experience, every time I had to check a friend off the "single without a family" list. It had seemingly toned done to more of a slap across the face. Regardless, I still find myself having a pity party and reexamining all my regrets and "what ifs" every time I see someone else enjoying the kind of life I thought I'd have.The only difference that time has seemed to make is that I had started to bounce back (emotionally) a bit quicker. My baby sister having a baby has been much harder to deal with, in comparison to any of my friends. Her pregnancy and the birth of my niece has stirred up all the crap that's constantly lurking in the back of mind and I hate myself for letting it effect me in the way that it has. The fact that she's my sister makes me that much more repulsed by my own selfish thoughts. I feel like I should be extra happy for my sister, instead of extra sad and hard on myself. I hesitate to express my feelings in this matter, and wonder if it's best to not say a peep.
The truth is, I'm reeling with jealousy, guilt over the jealousy and feelings of inadequacy and like a failure as a sister and as a daughter as well. Not being able to give my parents the joy of a grandchild is tough. I always thought I’d be the first of my siblings to share that experience with my parents. It’s painful knowing that I most likely will never give my parents grandchildren, or be able to give my siblings nieces or nephews. I see the joy in my parent's eyes and hear the excitement and love my parents have for my niece, and I wish I could give them that same happiness, with children of my own. It's also extremely hard not being able to be the type of big sister, or daughter like I was before, or like I want to be. With my youngest sister, I was always the giver, the helper, the one she could turn to advice for and tried to set an example and urge her to learn from my mistakes. Despite our big gap in age, I was very close with her. I enjoyed taking both of my sisters out, buying them things, and helping them. I thought I'd have my own child by now & always imagined myself being able to give advice & be there for my sisters during their own pregnancies. I thought I'd be present to see my nieces and nephews being born and be able to help assist in raising them. Not to mention, I thought I'd have experience and knowledge to share with them, from having raised my own children. The fact that none of that happened makes me feel like a huge failure. I know my family probably doesn't see me that way and that I'm mainly a disappointment to myself. There's also many times I'd like to be more involved, but I just can't handle it, or realize that there's nothing I can do to help.
One of my biggest desires has always been to have a family of my own. When I was still on my feet the thought of getting married and having children always seemed like a certainty to me. I had been in several long term relationships and had no doubt in my mind that I would meet "Mr. Right." Finishing college and establishing my career were important prerequisites to settling down, and once I had accomplished both of those things I thought it would just be a matter of time.
I had ended a five and a half year relationship with someone the year before my accident. All throughout college I had fooled myself into believing that he would "pop the question" once I was done with school. Early on in our relationship, we had many ups and downs, but ultimately I never felt like I could be myself with him and his lack of commitment only fueled my doubt in his trust in me and forced a wedge between us. It's not that I wanted to be a party girl, or anything like that, I just wanted the freedom and trust from him to go out with friends and be able to associate with both men and women. His own insecurities and my poor judgment for putting up with it for so long, took a huge toll on my self esteem and in the end I still have regrets and feel as though I wasted five years of both of our lives, for not realizing that we were never suited for one another in the first place. I realize now that it was never him that I wanted; it was the idea of the husband, kids and house with the picket fence that he had initially dangled in front of me, that made me latch on for so long. I tried so hard to be someone I wasn't, to be with someone who wasn't right for me, because of the bigger dream, the bigger picture, and it made me lose sight of a lot of the smaller, seemingly obvious (to everyone else) problems, that ultimately made me leave.
It's scary how easy it is to get stuck in a rut. Change can be scary, and it sometimes forces us to settle with what we have, out of fear of possibly never finding anything better. My own poor self esteem and non belief in myself kept me trapped, fighting an uphill battle of trying to make a bad match work. The longer time went on, the harder it became to want to let go. I found myself stuck in a vicious cycle of not wanting to throw away all the time and energy I'd invested into the relationship, while at the same time regretting I'd ever put in that much time in the first place. Even though there were a million little red flags along the way, I kept holding on to the delusion that getting engaged, or getting married, would somehow make all of our problems go away. In retrospect, I know there were aspects of myself that I held back on, because I felt I needed the proof of a serious commitment, to let those barriers down. On the other hand, there's no way in knowing if my openness would have changed much, because in the end, I could never really be free with such a rigid person as my partner. Looking back, it seems insane to think that making the ultimate commitment of marriage to "Mr. Wrong" (out of fairness- it's not to say that he couldn't be right for someone else, just not for me) would have ever made me truly happy. Getting married, just for the sake of being married is ridiculous.
I'm thankful that I finally saw the light, and had the courage to leave. I had a little bit of a rough time letting go at first, but felt truly liberated once I started enjoying the freedom of being single. I had just turned twenty-four at the time, and within those first few months after my breakup I felt as though I was really discovering myself for the first time, and rediscovering life in general. I had my career to keep me grounded, which kept me from going completely wild (at first I felt like all I wanted to do was go out and make up for feeling suffocated for so long). Don't get me wrong, I did go out on the weekends, and reconnected with old friends. I did stretch myself thin, trying to balance a busy social life and a busy career, but I always had work on my mind.
Despite some criticism that I got from my parents at the time, I can confidently say that I felt good about my life and have always tried juggling a lot on my plate. While they noticed a change in me going out, and dating, they failed to realize that I was often the first teacher to arrive at work and the last to leave. That year I juggled teaching, yearbook club, attending school functions for yearbook, painting a mural, put on three student art exhibits, took two graduate painting courses, moved out and into my own apartment, began going to the gym and had an active social life. I was busy, to say the least, but I felt happier and more alive than I had ever felt in my entire life.
It was during the last six months on my feet that I met "Mr. Right" (or so it seemed). We had a whirlwind affair, and had just started the process of moving into together when I was injured. It had been a long distance relationship, that had us both traveling back and forth between New Jersey and Pennsylvania (about a two hour drive). It's hard to even describe our relationship, other than saying that when I was with him I felt like I was completely myself. It was first time I felt like everything clicked. Nothing is perfect, but I felt as though we complimented one another on a level that I'd never experienced before. Superficial things like, degrees, money, or career didn't matter with him. I can remember thinking to myself that those things only mattered to me before, because they were fillers for things the other people lacked. We were at different places in terms of career, money and education, but those things could all easily be changed, with opportunity and time (Lord knows, plenty of people with good careers, and money have lost it all, as easily as others have gained it). "Mr. Right" made me happy, just being with him, and I knew that he had the potential and power to achieve all of the surface stuff, if he wanted it. Status isn't what makes people compatible, it's personality and core character traits (physical attraction helps for sure). During those last six months on my feet, I felt invincible. I really believed I had all my dreams within my reach; that all the pieces my life had fallen together. I had my career and was very happy with my work. I thought I'd found my soul mate and that we were about to start our life together, and in a little more time (maybe a couple of years-once I had tenure), we'd start to build our family.
Unfortunately, my life didn't play out the way I'd imagined it. All the pieces of my life, that I'd built up until June 5, 2005, came crashing down like a house of cards, in a matter of seconds. One stupid mistake to dive into a pool, changed my life forever. Instead of having tenure, being married and having children of my own, I'm thirty, single, unemployed and paralyzed, with little to no hope, of ever fulfilling the dream of having a family of my own (or my career back, for that matter). Some might argue, if "Mr. Right" really was "right" for me, then he would of stayed, despite my accident. That is easier said than done, and most people that say that have no clue what my day to day life entails, and how much of a sacrifice it would've been for him. Honestly, I don't know that I could've stuck it through, if our roles had been reversed. I'm also keenly aware that there is no guarantee that if I had never dove into that pool, that my life would've run as smoothly as I'd envisioned. There are a million variables to consider. However, I feel certain that if I were still on my feet that by now I'd still be teaching and have started my own family (whom ever that might have ended up being with).
One of my biggest desires has always been to have a family of my own. When I was still on my feet the thought of getting married and having children always seemed like a certainty to me. I had been in several long term relationships and had no doubt in my mind that I would meet "Mr. Right." Finishing college and establishing my career were important prerequisites to settling down, and once I had accomplished both of those things I thought it would just be a matter of time.
I had ended a five and a half year relationship with someone the year before my accident. All throughout college I had fooled myself into believing that he would "pop the question" once I was done with school. Early on in our relationship, we had many ups and downs, but ultimately I never felt like I could be myself with him and his lack of commitment only fueled my doubt in his trust in me and forced a wedge between us. It's not that I wanted to be a party girl, or anything like that, I just wanted the freedom and trust from him to go out with friends and be able to associate with both men and women. His own insecurities and my poor judgment for putting up with it for so long, took a huge toll on my self esteem and in the end I still have regrets and feel as though I wasted five years of both of our lives, for not realizing that we were never suited for one another in the first place. I realize now that it was never him that I wanted; it was the idea of the husband, kids and house with the picket fence that he had initially dangled in front of me, that made me latch on for so long. I tried so hard to be someone I wasn't, to be with someone who wasn't right for me, because of the bigger dream, the bigger picture, and it made me lose sight of a lot of the smaller, seemingly obvious (to everyone else) problems, that ultimately made me leave.
It's scary how easy it is to get stuck in a rut. Change can be scary, and it sometimes forces us to settle with what we have, out of fear of possibly never finding anything better. My own poor self esteem and non belief in myself kept me trapped, fighting an uphill battle of trying to make a bad match work. The longer time went on, the harder it became to want to let go. I found myself stuck in a vicious cycle of not wanting to throw away all the time and energy I'd invested into the relationship, while at the same time regretting I'd ever put in that much time in the first place. Even though there were a million little red flags along the way, I kept holding on to the delusion that getting engaged, or getting married, would somehow make all of our problems go away. In retrospect, I know there were aspects of myself that I held back on, because I felt I needed the proof of a serious commitment, to let those barriers down. On the other hand, there's no way in knowing if my openness would have changed much, because in the end, I could never really be free with such a rigid person as my partner. Looking back, it seems insane to think that making the ultimate commitment of marriage to "Mr. Wrong" (out of fairness- it's not to say that he couldn't be right for someone else, just not for me) would have ever made me truly happy. Getting married, just for the sake of being married is ridiculous.
I'm thankful that I finally saw the light, and had the courage to leave. I had a little bit of a rough time letting go at first, but felt truly liberated once I started enjoying the freedom of being single. I had just turned twenty-four at the time, and within those first few months after my breakup I felt as though I was really discovering myself for the first time, and rediscovering life in general. I had my career to keep me grounded, which kept me from going completely wild (at first I felt like all I wanted to do was go out and make up for feeling suffocated for so long). Don't get me wrong, I did go out on the weekends, and reconnected with old friends. I did stretch myself thin, trying to balance a busy social life and a busy career, but I always had work on my mind.
Despite some criticism that I got from my parents at the time, I can confidently say that I felt good about my life and have always tried juggling a lot on my plate. While they noticed a change in me going out, and dating, they failed to realize that I was often the first teacher to arrive at work and the last to leave. That year I juggled teaching, yearbook club, attending school functions for yearbook, painting a mural, put on three student art exhibits, took two graduate painting courses, moved out and into my own apartment, began going to the gym and had an active social life. I was busy, to say the least, but I felt happier and more alive than I had ever felt in my entire life.
It was during the last six months on my feet that I met "Mr. Right" (or so it seemed). We had a whirlwind affair, and had just started the process of moving into together when I was injured. It had been a long distance relationship, that had us both traveling back and forth between New Jersey and Pennsylvania (about a two hour drive). It's hard to even describe our relationship, other than saying that when I was with him I felt like I was completely myself. It was first time I felt like everything clicked. Nothing is perfect, but I felt as though we complimented one another on a level that I'd never experienced before. Superficial things like, degrees, money, or career didn't matter with him. I can remember thinking to myself that those things only mattered to me before, because they were fillers for things the other people lacked. We were at different places in terms of career, money and education, but those things could all easily be changed, with opportunity and time (Lord knows, plenty of people with good careers, and money have lost it all, as easily as others have gained it). "Mr. Right" made me happy, just being with him, and I knew that he had the potential and power to achieve all of the surface stuff, if he wanted it. Status isn't what makes people compatible, it's personality and core character traits (physical attraction helps for sure). During those last six months on my feet, I felt invincible. I really believed I had all my dreams within my reach; that all the pieces my life had fallen together. I had my career and was very happy with my work. I thought I'd found my soul mate and that we were about to start our life together, and in a little more time (maybe a couple of years-once I had tenure), we'd start to build our family.
Unfortunately, my life didn't play out the way I'd imagined it. All the pieces of my life, that I'd built up until June 5, 2005, came crashing down like a house of cards, in a matter of seconds. One stupid mistake to dive into a pool, changed my life forever. Instead of having tenure, being married and having children of my own, I'm thirty, single, unemployed and paralyzed, with little to no hope, of ever fulfilling the dream of having a family of my own (or my career back, for that matter). Some might argue, if "Mr. Right" really was "right" for me, then he would of stayed, despite my accident. That is easier said than done, and most people that say that have no clue what my day to day life entails, and how much of a sacrifice it would've been for him. Honestly, I don't know that I could've stuck it through, if our roles had been reversed. I'm also keenly aware that there is no guarantee that if I had never dove into that pool, that my life would've run as smoothly as I'd envisioned. There are a million variables to consider. However, I feel certain that if I were still on my feet that by now I'd still be teaching and have started my own family (whom ever that might have ended up being with).
Admittedly, my lack of a significant other, and/or children is by choice. However, it's the practicality of my situation and the reasoning behind those choices that I'd like people to understand. There are those people out there (able bodied and disabled alike) that would say, "You can still do anything you want, just in a different way." Really?! Let's examine the facts.
I could certainly have a boyfriend, or a husband. I don't deny that I hold myself back in this area. Everything I choose to do, or not to do, is done by weighing the pros and cons of any given situation. Although people love pointing out that "I can still do everything, just in a different way," the way I'd have to do certain things, or the compromises involved just don't cut it sometimes. There are many aspects of my old life (or life for the average able bodied person) that have become meaningless to me, because the aspects that I most loved about the experience/activity are now gone, and there just is no compromise or way around that, period. I see absolutely no point in going through the motions of something, just to say "I can," when in reality I can't. I refuse to do things, just for the sake of doing things, if the pleasurable aspects of the activity or thing no longer exist. What purpose does that serve? I'm certainly not fooling myself. There are countless things that no longer give me enjoyment, or create more stress than they are worth doing. My career is a good example, because it was the physical parts of teaching art that I loved the most. I miss the feeling of using different materials in my hands, typing, hanging displays, working one on one with the kids, organizing my supplies, preparing my classroom, crinkling, tearing and cutting paper, standing at my classroom door to meet my students and physically being able to help them. Yes, I could still teach art, but so much of what loved most about my career is gone. The remnants just don't compare and don't make all the effort, and coordination needed to get to work on a daily basis even worth doing. I feel the same way about having a significant other, and about having a family, in my current condition.
Let's face it, the key difference dividing friends from significant others is physical intimacy. Although sex is just one component to a healthy relationship, it is necessary and important. I was a very physical person before my accident. I enjoyed all the kinesthetic aspects of life: making art, exercise, dancing, experiencing different tactile textures in my environment and through physical intimacy. I've always enjoyed the feeling, and process of doing things and much as the outcome, or product of things. I didn't just take a shower to get clean. I enjoyed the sensation of the hot water flowing down my body, and savored the aroma and sensations and textures of different soaps and creams. Trying on clothes, was just as fun, if not more, than the thrill of buying new clothes. I enjoyed seeing how the fabric hung on my body, and feeling the texture of it, as it rubbed against my skin. The experience of creating a work of art, (such as feeling a scissor slice through a piece of paper, or a lump of clay squish between my fingers) was just as important as the final result. The thought of having a relationship, without the pleasure of physical intimacy, in my mind, is no more than a friendship. Just the mere fact of being with someone, and having the desire to be intimate and not be able to feel the experience of doing so, is more painful and frustrating than it's worth. When people (doctors, nurses and people in the paralysis community) say that I can still have sex, it just pisses me off. It's a joke. Reality is, someone could have sex with me, but I cannot have sex. Why some people cannot, or choose not to admit this reality is beyond me.
Personally, the thought of being physically intimate with anyone in my current state, is not only
stressful, it is disturbing. Yes, I could allow someone to have sex with me, but would not be able to do anything in terms of interaction, besides kissing. I cannot feel 85% of my body (including all of my lady parts), so therefore would be left lying there, with no real interaction, or enjoyment. Can someone please explain to me what point there would be to that exercise, other than perhaps satisfying a spouse (not likely), or for procreation? If anything, I think such an experience would leave me feeling more sexually frustrated than I was (or am) before the encounter took place. It's a touchy subject, that I find people like to sugar coat, or avoid all together. Unfortunately I don’t have the luxury of not considering it. We as humans are physical beings. Sex and physical affection are important aspects of life. Physical affection is good for the psyche, and being completely cut off and devoid of it, is not easy. Numerous studies have shown there are long term negative effects of depriving babies of physical affection. Sex aside, as humans, we need to feel the warmth, and touch of other people. It is an essential part of life and our overall development. Paralysis robs individuals of their sense of touch and is in essence a type of solitary confinement. Even if I had a partner, I'm cut off from physical sensation, there's no way around that. Without the physical aspect (Yes, I know I can still kiss. I'm also not a twelve year old. I require more to truly feel satisfied) of a romantic relationship, it really just boils down to friendship. I have plenty of good, supportive friends. In terms of having a boyfriend, or husband, I just don't see it working for me, based on my limitations, desires and needs.
I could certainly have a boyfriend, or a husband. I don't deny that I hold myself back in this area. Everything I choose to do, or not to do, is done by weighing the pros and cons of any given situation. Although people love pointing out that "I can still do everything, just in a different way," the way I'd have to do certain things, or the compromises involved just don't cut it sometimes. There are many aspects of my old life (or life for the average able bodied person) that have become meaningless to me, because the aspects that I most loved about the experience/activity are now gone, and there just is no compromise or way around that, period. I see absolutely no point in going through the motions of something, just to say "I can," when in reality I can't. I refuse to do things, just for the sake of doing things, if the pleasurable aspects of the activity or thing no longer exist. What purpose does that serve? I'm certainly not fooling myself. There are countless things that no longer give me enjoyment, or create more stress than they are worth doing. My career is a good example, because it was the physical parts of teaching art that I loved the most. I miss the feeling of using different materials in my hands, typing, hanging displays, working one on one with the kids, organizing my supplies, preparing my classroom, crinkling, tearing and cutting paper, standing at my classroom door to meet my students and physically being able to help them. Yes, I could still teach art, but so much of what loved most about my career is gone. The remnants just don't compare and don't make all the effort, and coordination needed to get to work on a daily basis even worth doing. I feel the same way about having a significant other, and about having a family, in my current condition.
Let's face it, the key difference dividing friends from significant others is physical intimacy. Although sex is just one component to a healthy relationship, it is necessary and important. I was a very physical person before my accident. I enjoyed all the kinesthetic aspects of life: making art, exercise, dancing, experiencing different tactile textures in my environment and through physical intimacy. I've always enjoyed the feeling, and process of doing things and much as the outcome, or product of things. I didn't just take a shower to get clean. I enjoyed the sensation of the hot water flowing down my body, and savored the aroma and sensations and textures of different soaps and creams. Trying on clothes, was just as fun, if not more, than the thrill of buying new clothes. I enjoyed seeing how the fabric hung on my body, and feeling the texture of it, as it rubbed against my skin. The experience of creating a work of art, (such as feeling a scissor slice through a piece of paper, or a lump of clay squish between my fingers) was just as important as the final result. The thought of having a relationship, without the pleasure of physical intimacy, in my mind, is no more than a friendship. Just the mere fact of being with someone, and having the desire to be intimate and not be able to feel the experience of doing so, is more painful and frustrating than it's worth. When people (doctors, nurses and people in the paralysis community) say that I can still have sex, it just pisses me off. It's a joke. Reality is, someone could have sex with me, but I cannot have sex. Why some people cannot, or choose not to admit this reality is beyond me.
Personally, the thought of being physically intimate with anyone in my current state, is not only
stressful, it is disturbing. Yes, I could allow someone to have sex with me, but would not be able to do anything in terms of interaction, besides kissing. I cannot feel 85% of my body (including all of my lady parts), so therefore would be left lying there, with no real interaction, or enjoyment. Can someone please explain to me what point there would be to that exercise, other than perhaps satisfying a spouse (not likely), or for procreation? If anything, I think such an experience would leave me feeling more sexually frustrated than I was (or am) before the encounter took place. It's a touchy subject, that I find people like to sugar coat, or avoid all together. Unfortunately I don’t have the luxury of not considering it. We as humans are physical beings. Sex and physical affection are important aspects of life. Physical affection is good for the psyche, and being completely cut off and devoid of it, is not easy. Numerous studies have shown there are long term negative effects of depriving babies of physical affection. Sex aside, as humans, we need to feel the warmth, and touch of other people. It is an essential part of life and our overall development. Paralysis robs individuals of their sense of touch and is in essence a type of solitary confinement. Even if I had a partner, I'm cut off from physical sensation, there's no way around that. Without the physical aspect (Yes, I know I can still kiss. I'm also not a twelve year old. I require more to truly feel satisfied) of a romantic relationship, it really just boils down to friendship. I have plenty of good, supportive friends. In terms of having a boyfriend, or husband, I just don't see it working for me, based on my limitations, desires and needs.
Even if I could somehow settle with having a basically platonic relationship with a significant other, there are numerous practical, physiological and psychological reasons as to why I choose not to have children in my condition. Can my body physically produce a child? Probably (I've never tried and therefore don't know how fertile I am). A pregnancy would be extremely difficult on my body and risky, given my condition. Given the fact that I can't feel most of my body, it also means that I'd be unable to feel and symptoms or possible problems with the pregnancy. When there is something wrong (a blockage in my catheter, incontinence, injury, or pain) that I can't feel, my body compensates by forcing my blood pressure to rise. This phenomena is called Autonomic Dysreflexia, and is something many people with paralysis live with. On one hand, AD is helpful, in the sense that my body creates symptoms, which alert me that there's something going on that I can't feel. AD presents itself in various ways, such as profuse sweating, chills or pounding headaches. When I feel these symptoms, I know I need to get help and try and find the source of the problem. AD is like a backup warning system. Unfortunately, besides the discomfort, AD also puts me at a higher risk for stroke or death. For instance, if my catheter becomes blocked, my body goes into distress over the pain in my bladder that I can no longer feel, which in turn causes AD to kick in, and my blood pressure begins to rise. If I don't have someone around to determine the cause and alleviate the blockage, my blood pressure will continue to rise and can cause me to have a stroke and/or potentially kill me. I can only imagine the discomfort and number of episodes of AD that would come along with putting my body through a pregnancy.
There are several other practical concerns that I'd need to consider, that the average woman of my age doesn't most likely have cause for concern. The added weight gain of a pregnancy would make me more susceptible to pressure sores, and make it harder for my caretakers to transfer, wash and dress me. Once I put the weight on, it would be near impossible to lose, given the fact I have little, to no means of exercising. I already watch what I eat, and restrict caloric intake, in order to maintain my weight, and doubt it would be healthy to eat any less than I already do. There's also the fact that I take a dozen pills every day, just to survive. Some of these medications would be benign to a baby, but I'm not so certain about them all. There's aspects of my medical condition, like having a bowel regime and a catheter, that I'm sure would be impacted by a pregnancy and vice versa.
Practical and health issues aside, I don't think I could bear the emotional trauma of being pregnant, or having a child in my condition. My paralysis makes it impossible for me to experience most of the aspects of pregnancy that I've looked forward to and have imagined my whole life. I'd be unable to feel my baby growing inside of me. I'd be unable to feel the touch of my loved ones hands on my belly. I couldn't stand in front of a mirror and admire my belly as is grows, or have fun trying on maternity clothes. I wouldn't be able to feel my water break, or labor pains (not that I looked forward to that part). I wouldn't be able to push, or feel the sensations of giving birth. I wouldn't be able to hold my baby for the first time (or ever), or feel what its like to breastfeed. It would be extremely difficult to not be able to do all of those things that I've anticipated my entire life and have always looked forward to knowing what they feel like first hand. I feel like less of a woman for not being able to go through the process of pregnancy in the usual sense. For me, it's very isolating to not feel like "part of the club." Pregnancy has become one more thing that I can't share in knowing through first hand experience. I have no stories of my own, nothing to add that conversation. It makes feel more detached from my peers, and more alienated by not being able to be a part of the group. Realistically speaking, even if I were to get pregnant, my experience would not fit the norm, and I'd still feel like I'm missing out on most of it.
Even if in time, I could accept the idea of a platonic marriage and turn a blind eye to all the risks and disappointments that I'd face being pregnant, the thought of having a child and not be able to care for it, is something I know 100% that I could never cope with. As silly as it might sound, I face (just a taste) the helplessness, depression and frustration I would feel having a child every day, thanks to my miniature pincher, Naama. Although she's just a dog, she's the closest thing I have to a dependent, and for as much joy as she gives me, it kills me watching everyone else care for her. It's indescribable how frustrating and sad it can be to have this, tiny, adorable creature look into my eyes, clearly needing help, or wanting something, and all I can do is sit there, powerless to do anything. Then there's the frustration and jealousy that come along with watching everyone else do the things for her, and enjoy her, in ways that I can't. I want to be able to hold her in my arms, pick her up, play with her, feed her, bathe her, dress her (yes, she wears clothes) and take her for walks, but I can't. Even if she sits on my lap, it's as if she's not there. If I drag my limp hand across her fur (using my shoulders), I can't feel her. For the most part, I'm forced to be a spectator of her life.
I experience similar sadness and frustration on an even larger scale, when I spend time with my nephew and God daughter. There's so much I want to do with them and I can't. I want to be able to scoop them up and give them a bear hug. I want to be able to get messy and do art projects together; things like coloring, sidewalk chalk, finger painting and clay. I want to be able to get down on the floor and build stuff with Legos. I wish I could babysit them, or take them places. Instead, I feel like a talking piece of furniture. I'm just stuck observing them grow and play, and although I can interact with them though words, I feel a huge disconnect to their lives. I know if I were to have a child of my own, all of the feelings I experience now with my pets and the other children that are already in my life would be magnified one hundred fold. I just can't cope with that. So despite my longing for a family of my own, the risks and all missing pieces I'd be unable to experience, vastly outweigh the positives. I know that there are women out there with high level SCIs, that have given birth, and have their own families. Everyone's situation is unique. I can only comment on my own situation, and know what challenges paralysis present me with from day to day, given my background and my unique coping skills. My reality is, that as long as I'm paralyzed, that I will never be able to fulfill my dreams of having a family of my own. That is a hard pill to swallow.
There are several other practical concerns that I'd need to consider, that the average woman of my age doesn't most likely have cause for concern. The added weight gain of a pregnancy would make me more susceptible to pressure sores, and make it harder for my caretakers to transfer, wash and dress me. Once I put the weight on, it would be near impossible to lose, given the fact I have little, to no means of exercising. I already watch what I eat, and restrict caloric intake, in order to maintain my weight, and doubt it would be healthy to eat any less than I already do. There's also the fact that I take a dozen pills every day, just to survive. Some of these medications would be benign to a baby, but I'm not so certain about them all. There's aspects of my medical condition, like having a bowel regime and a catheter, that I'm sure would be impacted by a pregnancy and vice versa.
Practical and health issues aside, I don't think I could bear the emotional trauma of being pregnant, or having a child in my condition. My paralysis makes it impossible for me to experience most of the aspects of pregnancy that I've looked forward to and have imagined my whole life. I'd be unable to feel my baby growing inside of me. I'd be unable to feel the touch of my loved ones hands on my belly. I couldn't stand in front of a mirror and admire my belly as is grows, or have fun trying on maternity clothes. I wouldn't be able to feel my water break, or labor pains (not that I looked forward to that part). I wouldn't be able to push, or feel the sensations of giving birth. I wouldn't be able to hold my baby for the first time (or ever), or feel what its like to breastfeed. It would be extremely difficult to not be able to do all of those things that I've anticipated my entire life and have always looked forward to knowing what they feel like first hand. I feel like less of a woman for not being able to go through the process of pregnancy in the usual sense. For me, it's very isolating to not feel like "part of the club." Pregnancy has become one more thing that I can't share in knowing through first hand experience. I have no stories of my own, nothing to add that conversation. It makes feel more detached from my peers, and more alienated by not being able to be a part of the group. Realistically speaking, even if I were to get pregnant, my experience would not fit the norm, and I'd still feel like I'm missing out on most of it.
Even if in time, I could accept the idea of a platonic marriage and turn a blind eye to all the risks and disappointments that I'd face being pregnant, the thought of having a child and not be able to care for it, is something I know 100% that I could never cope with. As silly as it might sound, I face (just a taste) the helplessness, depression and frustration I would feel having a child every day, thanks to my miniature pincher, Naama. Although she's just a dog, she's the closest thing I have to a dependent, and for as much joy as she gives me, it kills me watching everyone else care for her. It's indescribable how frustrating and sad it can be to have this, tiny, adorable creature look into my eyes, clearly needing help, or wanting something, and all I can do is sit there, powerless to do anything. Then there's the frustration and jealousy that come along with watching everyone else do the things for her, and enjoy her, in ways that I can't. I want to be able to hold her in my arms, pick her up, play with her, feed her, bathe her, dress her (yes, she wears clothes) and take her for walks, but I can't. Even if she sits on my lap, it's as if she's not there. If I drag my limp hand across her fur (using my shoulders), I can't feel her. For the most part, I'm forced to be a spectator of her life.
I experience similar sadness and frustration on an even larger scale, when I spend time with my nephew and God daughter. There's so much I want to do with them and I can't. I want to be able to scoop them up and give them a bear hug. I want to be able to get messy and do art projects together; things like coloring, sidewalk chalk, finger painting and clay. I want to be able to get down on the floor and build stuff with Legos. I wish I could babysit them, or take them places. Instead, I feel like a talking piece of furniture. I'm just stuck observing them grow and play, and although I can interact with them though words, I feel a huge disconnect to their lives. I know if I were to have a child of my own, all of the feelings I experience now with my pets and the other children that are already in my life would be magnified one hundred fold. I just can't cope with that. So despite my longing for a family of my own, the risks and all missing pieces I'd be unable to experience, vastly outweigh the positives. I know that there are women out there with high level SCIs, that have given birth, and have their own families. Everyone's situation is unique. I can only comment on my own situation, and know what challenges paralysis present me with from day to day, given my background and my unique coping skills. My reality is, that as long as I'm paralyzed, that I will never be able to fulfill my dreams of having a family of my own. That is a hard pill to swallow.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Updated Link: Soul Survivor
EbruTV updated their website with a new look. I really like the new streamlined, modern look they've created for their site! I worked with them in 2009 on a show they produce called "Soul Survivors." I'm updating all of my social networking sites with the new link. Check out the episode & see me talking about my accident, my experiences living with paralysis and my artwork. Please feel free to leave me feedback & share the link with family and friends! Thanks <3
http://www.ebru.tv/en/genres/LifestyleCulture/soul-survivors/episodes/1/110-christina-symanski
http://www.ebru.tv/en/genres/LifestyleCulture/soul-survivors/episodes/1/110-christina-symanski
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