I want to get back into blogging, but having been away so long, I don’t know what to pull out of the “to do” pile first. Part of the problem is my limited energy. I guess it will take me a good year to completely recover from the event of April 15, and by that time I’ll be a year older, so it will come out even.
Maybe you can help me sort things out. I know taking care of recovery comes first, and that seems to require a rather lengthy nap every afternoon, no matter how well I sleep at night. And that limits the times when I can see clients, or drive without fear of falling asleep again, and certainly interferes with writing time, especially since sitting at my computer tends to hurt my back. (So now I join the rather large crowd of people who manage daily to keep productive with some pain.) It requires more planning – or maybe less planning, for activities during my day. What I mean is, I can’t set up the kind of “keep on going all day” schedules that used to make it possible to get so much done.
So, here are my choices that need prioritizing.
1. I need to look up the details on “Silver Sneakers” to increase my exercise beyond the workout I was taught to do every morning at home, plus a quick walk around the circle each day. Before the “event,” I used to do that in 11 minutes. (Yes, I hate exercise.) When I first got back to it I was doing it in 14 minutes. Yesterday I think I got it back down to 11. A big part of that walk, in fact, whenever I’m upright, is to focus on good posture. When one’s back hurts, it’s such a temptation to bend over.
2. I want to pick up where I left off on writing discussion questions to try to kick start currently non-existent sales of “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses.” I remember once reading the response of a best-selling author to the question, “What does it take to be a best seller.” His answer, “Be a best seller.” Obviously I’m not good at that, but I’m quite sure more time would help. The help of a friend in working up the questions keeps me thinking too. I just need to get the thoughts entered into my computer.
3. On that same note, I’ve got to get more involved with my web site. If I don’t do something more active with it, no one will ever find it interesting, or even find it.
4. I’ve read a few books while lying on my back since “the event.” Now I want to write reviews for amazon.
5. I had a fabulous two-week cruise shortly after I was allowed to remove my brace. The Shetland Islands, Iceland, and Norway were perfect for rehab. The trip over on the plane hurt. The trip home was a piece of cake. Time and walking helped a lot. I do have a few – not many – photos that might be interesting to share. One is a brief movie photo, because my new camera can do that. I call it the entrance to hell. The geothermal experience in Iceland was fascinating. The photo to which I refer is of a roiling, boiling hot, green pond smelling of hydrogen sulfide gas. (rotten eggs.) Unfortunately I can’t figure out how to include it as a moving picture. I’ll try a still photo and hope you can enhance it with your imagination.
I’m also including a photo of me to show the layers of clothes necessary in the chilly, rather wet weather we encountered. They told us it was an unusually cold summer. But it didn’t spoil the fun.
6. Speaking of re-hab, folks have asked me to write about my “crash” experience, and I want to do that. So many people were so helpful – delightful, even. And I can’t say enough about how helpful Medicare was.
7. I did manage to write a 5-page story to add to a local anthology. Actually – a rewrite of one I had on hand.
8. So many friends have offered to visit, or to meet me for coffee or lunch. I want to do that, but I’m hesitant to schedule a date,’cause some days aren’t as good as others in terms of energy.
9. One thing I did get back to in the past couple of days is writing “My Father’s House.” I’m doing the section on when he first arrives in America – specifically Forestville, Connecticut.
10. And I am seeing a limited number of clients.
11. Oh, I don’t want to forget the issue of clothes. The disc fracture cost me two inches of height, all in the torso, so my body is not only shorter, but shaped differently as well. Some clothes just need shortening, but beyond that I need a new wardrobe. Actually, that should be fun. My daughter is in town to stage manage a play, but we’re hoping to have time for a shopping trip. Am I blest or what that I can look forward to that?
12. So what else is new? I hope something more interesting for future blog entries.
As of yesterday I’m out of the brace! Off meds. Sleeping better. Now to work on pain control and regaining strength. (The latter a year’s project, no doubt.)
In response to my report on withdrawing from morphine, a friend sent me this link by e-mail. For anyone who cares about the problems with the war on drugs, the terrible effects of over-incarceration, the targeting of the vulnerable, this TED TAlK is worth the time.
By the way, my terrible withdrawal experience is over. Into the next phase of recovery.
I know my situation is as nothing compared to the tragedies all around me. Still, I wanted to share the latest in the recovery after my crash.
I’ve missed some important things from Facebook in these last few days, like Sally Smith’s birthday, and Chris Anderson’s freedom from his cast. Wow, Chris, you’ve been through a lot, with such grace.
Anyway, the good/bad news is that I’ve been really sick beginning this past Monday. I mean, flu-like symptoms to the third power. Misery.
But I’ve been happy about it, because it’s withdrawal from the morphine I’ve been taking for pain since sometime in May. (Before that I was prescribed Oxycodone).
The really happy part is I stopped taking the morphine because the pain stopped calling for it. Besides, I’m on the tail end now, so this latest phase of recovery is almost over. It seems like Ibuprofen may be my friend for a while, though, and maybe Tylenol PM to help catch up on the sleepless days and nights.
A dear friend discovered the BRAT diet that helps with part of the problem. It stands for something like: Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, and Toast. Now, when it came to eating, I felt like a dog with rabies, totally hydrophobic, but she provided and I did what I was told. Today the food tastes good. Progress.
Now maybe I can get back to the project begun before my April 15th event – writing discussion questions to accompany “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses” for book groups that might like to adopt it.
And, of course, “My Father’s House.”
GO FIGURE!
Recently I mailed a letter to a friend of mine in prison. In it I described the details of my April 15 accident and enclosed a picture of my poor car.
Today I received it back from the prison, opened and returned. I also received the following note from my friend.
“I received notice from our mailroom that you tried to send me a letter with pictures. However, the mailroom in its infinite wisdom decided I could not have it because pictures and letter were contained in the same envelope.
I am allowed to have both, just not if they come in the same envelope. So you should be receiving everything back in a separate mailing. What you will need to do is put the picture (no larger than 8×10) in one envelope, and your letter in another envelope. If they are in 2 separate envelopes, I will be allowed to have them.
Gotta love [the system].”
Thanks,
M
Of course I have two envelopes ready to mail. No other comment.
I’m back. Still not enough energy to do all I want to do. Napping as much as I’m awake. I guess that’s an important part of healing, but it does take time away from writing. Anyway, I felt the urge today to share with you one minor product of my recent participation in a writing course — the conversation with my crash.
From June 14th through the 19th I attended a superb writing course at the Madeline Island School of the Arts. The staff made it possible for me to attend by finding ways to accommodate some of my special needs. On top of that kindness, everyone was wonderful in every way possible.
It was also the beginning of my walking outside for any distance. It was the only way to get from my room to the location of the food and classes. And that was really good for me.
Of course, then, as now, I spent a lot of time sleeping. But there was plenty of room as well to write. By choice I focused on “My Father’s House.”
All in all, I learned a lot, got to spend time with some bright, energetic, and lovely fellow students, to say nothing of the instructor, Elizabeth Jarrett Andrew.
Among other things, Elizabeth had us doing some writing exercises, and that’s what I want to share with you today. One assignment was to visualize an important image, and then to spend a few minutes writing a dialog with that image. Even though I promised to focus on “My Father’s House,” the image that came up was the noise of my car rolling around as it flipped into total destruction on April 15. So I wrote a conversation between “The Crash,” and “Me.” I think I learned a lesson for myself in the process of reading through it.
What I’m presenting here is the pure, unedited dialog I wrote in the five or so minutes we were allotted.
****************************************
CRASH: Hear me! What a racket I can make. Have you ever heard such a cacophony? I mean – really, a cacophony.
ME: Hear? Oh … Oh My God! I …, Oh My God! … I … really – you thought I’d have something to say? Oh My God.
CRASH: Hear me. I’m rattling, banging, crashing, squeaking, squealing. I mean – have you ever heard such a noise?
ME: I know. You are totally beyond my control. Too late to find the brake. Oh My God! What are you doing? You’re falling apart. But you’re banging together. Oh My God! Who am I kidding? I don’t have time to say any of these words.
CRASH: Gotcha! I silenced you. Now your words do you no good. I’m nothing but noise, noise, noise.
ME: And you’re fascinating. Oh My God! Wow! What can I say?
CRASH: That’s the point! You can’t say anything. Whoopee! Hear me. I really have your attention, don’t I?
ME: OK, OK. Will you stop? Please stop!
CRASH: Crash, jingle, jangle, rattle, steam. What about the nice, black sound I’m making …?
ME No, you’re wrong. It’s not black, it’s gray, or purple, or blue? Or white? But heavy.
CRASH: No. “heavy” isn’t a color.
ME: But it is black. Oh hiss – no. I’m not swearing. It’s hissing.
CRASH: Just settling, my dear.
ME: I’m not doing anything. Just let them take care of me. Whew!
.
Thanks to all the wonderful people who helped in the prep, I’m home nice and safe and comfy.
Having trouble, though, catching up with the messy pile of stuff to do –including working on ways to encourage sale of my books. I certainly could use some royalties when the bills start rolling in. Suggestions?
And then there’s the constant urge to nap. I assume that’s an important part of the healing process.
I’m not encouraging lots of visitors, but it would be nice to have some here on the blog.
Things are moving in the right direction.
Yesterday was Xray and talk-to-the-Doctor’s-rep-day. I didn’t hear what I wanted to hear, but I also feel much better because I know precisely where I stand, making it possible to work at solutions.
First off, I had already discovered that health insurance covers treatment requiring care by a licensed professional, including Physical Therapy and Occupational Therapy. It doesn’t cover things provided by talented aides –all the things that help with the practical aspects of living with this brace, for example.
As for the Xray, things “are looking the way they are supposed to look.”
I also learned that the brace definitely must stay on for a total of three months – two more to go. And it must always be on whenever I am upright. So there’s no license to get up without it in the middle of the night for a pit stop, for example.
Then I was taught how to put it on and remove it myself, with the hope that I can get to the point of doing it quickly when I need to get up. Besides that, it’s clear that I am not the only person experiencing this brace thing and people have learned various ways of living with it. For example, some people choose to sleep in it.
All that information left me feeling good, because problems can be solved when the facts are clear. Since I’m planning to leave rehab on June first, I have this week to practice proficiency in putting it on and off. I’ll have the opportunity to try sleeping in it. And I’ll be able to set up the bed situation to make it all work at home. Plus I’ll call on friends to help me set up my house to deal with these temporary requirements.
As has been the case all along here, I have learned so much more practical understanding of the situation for others, especially for those with long-range problems, so much more serious than mine.
All of which adds to the powerful sense of gratitude I’ve experienced ever since finding myself still alive after the “event” of April 15.
In no particular order, but worth remembering and sharing, here are some things I’ve observed in the process of treatment and recovery from the April 15 event.
I’ve often wondered what’s the best way to speak to someone in a wheelchair. Kneel down? Bend over? Remain at one’s own level? I still don’t have the answer, but I know the most important thing is to be within comfortable view and hearing for the person in the chair. It can be a lonely position to be in, as if one is not a part of the world around one. That’s especially true if there are two or more people involved in addition to the one in the chair. Don’t forget there are at least three people in the group. Just because one is in a lower physical spot is no reason to be demeaned as belonging in a lesser position. Maybe a better way to put this is to strive to remain within eye-contact position. Obviously if you are pushing the wheelchair, you can’t be in front of it or beside it, but you can maintain conversational presence. Just don’t overlook the person in the chair.
This applies as well to being with a person using a walker. It’s a rule of courtesy that should apply when just walking with someone. Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.
In using a walker, one becomes aware of variations in the floor, and the danger of rugs that can catch on the non-wheeled part of the walker. A couple of days ago I almost caused a woman to fall – it ended in a stumble – because my walker caught on the exit rug, pulling it up enough to trip her. Maybe people who place rugs and such in public places should be better aware of these dangers. Certainly the person using the walker, and those walking with her, should be aware of the danger.
I’ve learned the terror of helplessness, which for me is a temporary situation, but certainly heightens my sympathy for people with severe and permanent injuries that make them more dependent on others. When I am lying flat on my back at night with orders not to roll onto my side and unable to get up for bathroom calls, or in an emergency, I am aware of my almost complete inability to take care of myself. It’s a lesson I’m happy to have learned, though I’d much rather not have learned it the way I did.
On another note, I’ve learned to appreciate the help my friends have given me shopping in my closet. Especially, I’d like to point out the importance of pockets for carrying things around. They chose one hoodie which is perfect for leaving hands free for the walker.
I’ve also learned to appreciate the tools to which Occupational Therapy has introduced me for reaching things without bending over, for pulling on clothes, including sox, the long shoehorn, and another grabber. In that, I’ve developed such empathy for people who need such tools for the rest of their lives.
Another thing I’ve observed is the problem with some restroom doors and facilities. Once inside there are the large booths to accommodate people in wheelchairs or walkers, but the entrance door can be very heavy – more than the 10 pounds I am currently limited to, for example. It’s not true everywhere, but where it is, it can be a serious obstacle.
I’m sure I’ll think of other things to add, but this final one has been really important and instructive for me. The staff at the hospital and here at the rehab – Auburn Manor — are amazing. I believe the aides would qualify formally as “unskilled labor,” and I watch them eagerly accepting overtime to add to their pay-by-the-hour income. But they are definitely not unskilled. And the best thing about it is they all very clearly enjoy their job. One aide left at one point for a corporate job and begged to return after a couple of days because she loves the work she does here.
The dining room staff as well is amazing. Most everyone is wheeled in and wheeled out by staff, and set up with the right meal for them. I believe there are as many special needs as there are people, so it’s quite a job to carry out quietly, competently, and with kindness. All in all amazing, skilled, giving people.
Finally, I’m so aware of the fright of being unable to meet the bills. Today has been largely given to exploring all insurance options. My heart goes out to people whose savings, and even their homes, have been sacrificed to medical bills. My dismay goes out to those who blame the victims for being in that bad situation.
So that’s it for today. Like so much of what I do, this has been written with frequent interruptions, this time working at preparing to go home and finding the necessary support – financial and otherwise..
Every day I plan to share a bit of an update, and every day gets away from me. I try to get in a lot of sleeping, but sleep is a scarce commodity in rehab. As fast as I doze off, someone else is here to collect me for occupational or physical therapy. I do enjoy the working out, though, and I can see improvement every day. If only it weren’t for this brace that must be worn whenever I’m in an upright position. Actually, It’s not bad while I’m up. It’s the helplessness of lying on my back in bed at night, unable to get up should nature call.
But I wanted to tell you of the nice things that happen. First there are the wonderful folks who go shopping in my closet for things to wear, picking up my mail on the way, and watering my plants. Oh, really, there’s no way to list all the lovely things people have done and the kind torrent of well wishers.
My daughter surprised me by being here from Colorado on Mother’s Day, and I had a great outing with her and my son — brunch at Baccio followed by the matinee at the Guthrie – a super production of “The Crucible.” Tired when I got back to rehab, but well worth it.
If I’d been better about keeping up this report there would be more tales of kindness. Take, for example, my friend who has decided to send me some published jokes every day. Just too many thoughtful gifts to list them all
But one thing I want to be sure to report is the kindness of the fireman who supported my neck and kept me occupied while they worked on getting me out of the car. He actually spent time on saving my earrings. I have an inexpensive pair of little diamond earrings – tiny, not easy for big fireman’s hands. “Do I just pull it out?” he asked. “No, you need to pull out the piece in the back too.” He did, and put them into his plastic glove. Then he went to work on the very slim chain I chose to wear that day – one from my high school days with one pearl drop. In those days the clasps were very, very tiny, but he worked and worked and managed to open and remove it. I am so happy to have that chain, and so grateful to him for saving it. I wish I knew his name so I could thank him for that loving touch, so meaningful at that time.
I feel that I’m just loaded with stories of the beautiful things people have done for me. I hope to share more as time goes on.
But now I’m ready for a nap.
monagustafsonaffinito 