This is the eight week I have been unable to get out of bed. It has been six days since I was at wound care. I will be at wound care in eight days. A wound care specialist comes to my house Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I get up at 8 or 9AM. I have tea and fruit or breakfast, I eat lunch at noon, dinner at 6PM. This schedule is set in stone, deviations rare. I live in short an exceedingly dull, routine life. I despise this schedule and my temporary dependence. I feel as though my life is crushing to my spirit. I have trouble concentrating and overcome by a sense of hopelessness. I thus feel very much like a sailor from an era gone by that was stuck in the doldrums. No wind equaled no power. No power equaled no progress. I am likewise powerless though healing.
I suspect I am experiencing what a marathoner goes through half way through a race. I am guessing my wounds are at the half way point to being healed. I know the worst is behind me. My mind knows this but my heart is a different matter. My heart is filled with woe. Gosh, what a fucking baby I am. I am blessed with a great family and while I complain about insurance I did learn my entire hospital stay was covered--minus $160 for the television. Without this coverage I would be broke--hence health insurance in this country has become house and bankruptcy insurance. This knowledge does not make me feel better. I know I am the unusual paralyzed person. I have adequate insurance and enough work. I have a large family that provides economic help when needed, as in helping pay for uncovered medical expenses. These are luxuries few other people enjoy. How then do I have the right to feel the way I do? I simply don't. I tell this to myself again and again. Sometimes it helps and sometimes it does not. Today such a mantra is not working. Nothing is helping aside from posting these words on the internet. What a weird world we occupy. Here I am alone in front of a machine, utterly reliant on technology. Yet, what do I miss? Humanity, ah the dialectics of modern social life.
This is me, Mary in Edmonton, Alberta, reaching out to say YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I check Claire's blog to see when you're posting so I can "check in on you".
ReplyDeleteHaving been painfully alone (and lonely) during portions of my life, I can relate and just want you to know that this odd woman in Canada is thinking about you EVERY SINGLE DAY.
I am an artist and for $ I work in an office and I love food and books and comfort. I'm one of the odd ones in the world who adores routine, and I can appreciate that the give-and-take of life can be more appealing to some, including you.
Hugs to you today. If you ever would like an off-blog hello just email me.
newmary 6279 at gmail dot com
Mary
My heart is touched by your struggle. I am para and have spent months in bed at times to heal wounds. The last time was three months in bed (with the occasional turn out of bed for bathing). The only benefit that I can remember about being horizontal for that amount of time, aside from the lack of pressure on my behind, was that the swelling in my ankles and feet went down. I could wear my sexiest heels, but the irony is that I couldn't go anywhere to show them off :). It gets old counting the cracks in the ceiling, enh? I hope you have a nice view, art or photos of beautiful places to help. From this post, perhaps some photos of the ocean would help fill out your reality of feeling in the Doldrums.
ReplyDeleteHi William,
ReplyDeleteI know how you feel. Once many years ago when I was stuck in bed for God knows how long, my daughter said something to me that I will not forget. She was only about age 9 (nine) at that time and I am 70 (seventy) now. Her words were, "Mom! You used to love to dance. You can move your hands! Dance with your hands." I figured that dancing with my hands was more interesting than counting ways a ceiling could be used for mounting a television and other things I was thinking of. Hope this helps. Have a good one!
Hang in there Bill, you're in my thoughts.
ReplyDeleteHi,
ReplyDeletePeople with limited mobility can have control over their lives. A few years ago I invested in a few robotic floor cleaners. People in chairs need cleanliness. Perhaps you could check out the robotic floor cleaners if you don't have them. They can be programmed by date and time if you desire. I'm on lunch break and know when I get home my floors will be clean.
Wow, what truly wonderful comments. I am touched by one and all.
ReplyDeleteGinger, Yeas ago I had one of those little robot vacuums. It did not work well for me as I had area rugs it got caught up on. Do they work better these days? I also loved he dance with your hands story. Kids are awesome.
Blue Spruce, Women and shoes are the eternal male mystery. Many paralyzed ladies I have met bemoan the fact high heeled shoed do not fit.
Mary, I appreciate your kind words. Claire's blog is amazing. I love her passion. I do not envy office work, it is one reason I stayed in academics.
Hi,
ReplyDeleteThe floor cleaning robots have improved a great deal. The ones I have were originally developed by two students at MIT. Due to my wheelchair I only have a few scatter rugs on my floors. My grandchildren enjoyed setting the system up with me and securing all cords. These robots clean not only the scatter rugs and floors, but also give my grandchildren the peace of mind that they can bring their pooches over, have a good time, and clean up is a breeze.
Wish I could find a Lady Gaga outfit for Halloween!
ReplyDeleteGinger, Gosh you sound like a real pisser--this is a compliment, a big one. I will look into the robot vacuums--the one I had died years ago. Perhaps I will put it on my Xmas list. Halloween is a favorite holiday as I love to see little kids dress up in festive costumes. I went to a party once as the tin man!
ReplyDeleteI knew a quad who went out on Halloween as a gigantic Hershey's Kiss. I think he already had the tin foil hat.
ReplyDeleteBecs, In college I went to a wild Halloween party as a flasher with a flashlight between my legs. Every time I had a spasm the light went on. I was a bad boy.
ReplyDeleteOh My God! However I'd say it became clear rather quickly that you were not the coal miner's daughter.
ReplyDeleteLOL!
ReplyDeleteSorry not to be around much--computer woes while husband was away. May have more time away as replacement part is ordered/installed.
Check out fiction by SE Smith featuring a wheelchair user:
ReplyDeletehttp://meloukhia.net/2010/10/plague_day_zero.html
Hope she has more to come!