Talking about the ‘nightmare’, two of my demon ‘perpetrators’, that seemed so real were, if you remember ‘the Leaders’, who were the large guy called Drew, and the female with the NHS specs; . . . . well, in reality, . . . . Drew is a Staff Nurse, and it is a Nurse called Ann, who does wear glasses that look like the old NHS specs… and, she has eyes like Jack Nicholson in ‘The Shining’. There is also one of the staff nurses called Avril, a lovely lady with grey hair which she wears tightly tied back, anyway, when I saw her, I recognised her as the ‘matron’, in my nightmare who was trying to comfort me when I was inconsolable (who else am I gonna meet from my damn nightmare`?). My very existence at this time is so surreal and it is so weird. Maybe my experiences will all be part of some ‘Master plan’ and we are all ‘Pawns’ in some kind of Life Chess Game? I’m just starting to grasp the ‘theory’ behind ‘The Matrix’???
I showered this morning on the lilo, but my back and ribs are soo sore. I keep asking for answers, and I’m told the medication is working, Yeah??? I am the only one who ‘really’ knows my body, and I think I should know whether it’s in pain or not, and it is… and I do believe, I have quite a strong pain threshold. Christ, I know I haven’t exactly treated my body as ‘my temple’—oh, no, I have undoubtedly, abused mine, but, ‘do bodies take revenge’?? I know if mine could have, it would have chosen a very ‘evil’ option—actually, maybe it did… . ‘The Accident’??? You never know, maybe if there was a strange twist in the tail of this story, perhaps my body could ‘fight back’, and with some hard work and TLC, I could get back my bodys` approval, with some ‘fine tuning’ and clever tactics?!! Yeah!
The phone was brought through for me and it was the kiddies. Mitch always makes his little excuses by saying “sorry mum, last time I was out with the boys” . . . . I tell him that I just love to hear him say “hi mum’ and that I love to know he has friends, and is getting on well, and, for the moment, keeping out of trouble!! Just hearing either of them say ‘Hi Mum’, brings a smile to my face… if only they knew… in fact, I probably have told them hundreds and hundreds of times. Casey is getting me information through the Internet on ‘spinal injuries’, bless her. Barry was fine, just wanting ‘the truth’ as he says, because, ‘you can’t get anything out of these bloody doctors’. He always moans, but he’s a great guy, and me and the kids are lucky to have him, . . . . well, I don’t really have him. Officially I suppose I do, even though me and Barry are not together anymore, but he has his ‘unofficial’ girlfriend, who is expecting their ‘official’ baby!!! Understand, Yes! and that’s official!!
MacLean, my wonderful nephew and God-son, was supposed to be coming through from Aberdeen, at some point, and I thought it was going to be today, but he phoned to say he’s got a cold… more like ‘man-flu’, it’s such a giveaway when they put on that ‘strained’ cough and insipid voice? I love the lad, and we get on great. He promised me he would bring me one of his mobile phones, and that cheered me up, so, no doubt I will get it next week. He has to come from Aberdeen, where he’s at Uni. So, talking of my nephew and nieces, Cat, Roselyn and Donnie’s daughter, a wonderful specimen of a ‘stereotypical’ student; long flowing skirt with doc martins, long jumper, loosely layered multi-coloured cheesecloth scarves, dangly earrings, black nailvarnish dreadlocks and a longhandled canvas bag over the shoulder, clutches a load of files under her arm… looking FAB! and a personality to match, popped in to see me. When she had asked if I needed anything when she phoned in the week, I mentioned that I needed some fresh fruit and the muller light creamy yogurts. Well, she brought me what I needed, and she also gave me a large box of milk tray CHOCS!!, and a ‘TOFFEE APPLE’, because I had no choice but to spend Halloween in the hospital! oh, I love ‘er. She told me how she was getting on at Uni, and about a ‘few’of her friends and she said there was a guy, someone special (and I can’t remember his name) that she was with. She is hoping to take a year out starting in the summer to ‘travel’. Good Luck, I say! She has got a good head on her shoulders. Pity she couldn’t stay long, but we had a lovely visit and she said she would be back as soon as she could. What a girl and what a superb visit. One annoying thing about Cat’s visit was that she was asking questions about my injuries, in a very caring way, and I felt so ignorant of my own body because I didn’t have anything fundamental or factual that I could tell her. Tomorrow I am definitely asking the docs about my exact injuries, what were the results of the x-rays I’ve had taken, and do they have any literature on my type of paralysis? Surely they know something by now, afterall, it is a Spinal Unit Rehab. I now feel totally compos mentis and ready to listen and take it in and I’m ready for any ‘shock’ factor.
Monday 10th November
Well, its a pretty ordinary day, woken up with the ‘interrogation lights’ on, they’re so bloody bright and intrusive. They could at least warn us before they do it, so we could have a head start to adjust our eyes.
Sniffing, choking, calling, snoring, clanking, rustling, lightness, pushing, pulling, voices, taps, telephones, silent chatter, loud chatter, traffic noises, and banging (that bloody bin with the steel lid), basically, just another wonderful start to the day in Stalag Ward 4!!! . . . . ALIVE! Remember… . be grateful! I’m trying?
It’s only 9.30ish, I’m writing my book and have nearly scoffed a whole packet of shortbread that someone brought me in and I had forgotten it was there, Yeeha! . . . greedy bitch, you would have thought I had just found the lost winning, lottery ticket!! That’s really bad, I really have to try and stop eating.
Here come the Posse… I will come back to you and see if I have any good news; please don’t let it be bad. I want out of this bed, and I know the bandage on my bum has been on for ages now.
Ok, the doc Mr Dunne (Dr Didn’t), surgeon Mr Templar, physio John Hunter, hospital social worker Joan, occupational therapist Michelle, and a few students. The Doc, told me before that I should be getting a review of my tablets because he knew I had been complaining about the soreness. I told him that, ‘I didn’t understand where I was paralysed from and where it was just numbness, and what feeling would come back and when would I know? and again, he told me that it takes time for the body to actually ‘recover’ from the trauma of the severed spine, so after a couple of months they should start seeing results and get answers; but they are still waiting for various results back and to ‘bare with them and for me to be patient’. Then Mr Templar, who is such a polite, rather large smiley gentleman, reaffirmed that it was a ‘pressure sore’, that was on my sacral area (bum), and it was so badly infected when I arrived, that’s why I had to go directly into surgery. He also explained that the 34 weeks that I was hoping would be the timescale for getting out of the bed, was now totally unrealistic, and whoever misinformed me of that, he apologised on their behalf,(see what I mean—so polite), but he did say that I would be having another operation in about 6 weeks, and it would be reviewed on a permanent basis and dressed every second day. I wasn’t happy about being stuck in bed, but I have never had a pressure sore, and to be honest, I hadn’t heard of one. I decided I will ask him about that when he isn’t with the Posse. The Physio, John Hunter, smallish, but very toned and muscley, well groomed black/greyish hair and goaty beard, and a very down-to-earth guy, said that as of today, I could get into the gym to start work on my upper-body. This can only be done by wheeling my whole bed into the gym and using the cage (oh, no, that’s the one I pulled the weights off) but this time it is the start of serious physio and to be prepared to work hard!! Then, Joan, the Social Worker, (thin, elder lady in a suit) was going to be checking housing in the Fort George area, and she would set up a proper meeting for us to discuss it at greater length… . then, Michelle, the O.T. said she would come back later with a few ‘gadgets’ that would help make my life easier, whilst being confined to bed.
I thought that the Monday morning posse meeting went quite well and I managed to get some helpful information out of i
t, and now I know where I stand, (ha ha), or do I? I can now start to make some ‘informed decisions’. Well, that actually was quite draining and my bones ache. I hope they bring the morning tea soon.
Barry phoned me this morning, and he actually seemed quite chilled, asking how I ‘really’ was and that not to pretend, cause he could read me like a book, favourite author being Stephen King, and that’s why he always called me a ‘nightmare’. Barry was stressing the ‘really’, because he knows I put on a front sometimes when I say I’m ok. I must admit Barry probably knows me better than anyone. Today he had the time to talk. Shonah wasn’t there, and he was working from home because Mitch wasn’t feeling so good today and was off school. My Mikey was ok tucked up in bed—playing his nintendo morelike! So, I was as honest as I could be, telling him about my hallucinations and my worries about returning to the Fort, because he had only just got used to the idea that I had come to Glasgow instead of Stanmore. After he listened to me, I asked how things were with him and Shonah and Jamie, the baby. At first he seemed a bit uncertain, so I goaded him and he did eventually say that he was tired and worried about his health because he was having terrible problems with his back. Then he told me that Shonah was probably going to be staying in Berrytown now that the baby was born. He said he was happy about it because she would only have had her brother up north, so it was best to stay down in Berry for the support. I just got the vibes, that, this was a man under pressure. Anyway, then Mitch came on the phone, and bless him, he had a croaky voice and like most kids, he sounded pretty happy about being off school, so we talked about school and a few other things until his dad said, ok enough sicky! I just love that little man soo much and he is coming up to those teenage years where he is going to want to ‘rebel’, lets hope his rebellious phase doesn’t go on for too long. If Casey and Mitch end up going through the rebellious stage at the same time, Oh my God, Barry better be ready, he could be heading for a rough ride!! I said my goodbyes and thanked Brian, because it was good that we had that extra time to talk for a change. Barry said I have got to keep positive, against all the odds!! Ok, Barry, I will definitely try, but trust me, it ain’t easy.
So, now they’ve gone, I’m just lying here thinking how much I miss them, and remembering some of the good times we had, especially when Barry was relaxed and in a good mood, which he used to be more often than not. Anyway, I could hear the dinner ladies coming round to let everyone know that the lunches had arrived, even though it feels like we just had our morning cuppa. You know, I ‘always’ have to eat in this bed, and I hate it, and the other thing that concerns me is, I’ve got my ‘buds’ back, as in ‘taste buds, and I seem to be hungry all the time and I have got to stop talking about FOOD! This is a totally new ballgame for me—being ‘hungry’. I don’t know if it could be the meds or my ‘workout’ in the gym—actually, John Hunter said that he was going to start wheeling the bed into the gym, so I am going to look very silly. Guess what, I don’t care, I’m tired and my writing is getting smaller as my eyes get drowsier and drowsier, byeee for now (maybe I will sleep through lunch—hooraah!)
Tuesday 11th November
Today my back’s hurting, ribs feeling like the bruised ribs of an ox, that has just had a major collision with a tanker. (I am only imagining of course), but they are soo sore, especially when the nurses are turning me, which they have to do every 4 hrs now, and if you can imagine the pain you get when you get a ‘cramp’ at the back of your legs when the muscles go tight, well, they call that ‘spasms’, and when I’m being turned it sets off a ‘spasm’ right through my whole body and the soreness gets worse as soon as I am touched, and by the time they have started moving me round, I am in excruciating pain right through my body. It’s awful, and the poor lady that got moved last night was in so much pain with spasms, the nurses couldn’t touch her at all, and she had to be sedated for the pain to be able to sleep! By the way, I never exaggerate any of my writing when it comes to other patients or injuries, in fact, at times I try to play things down, so as not to upset the family, but as I’m writing it down, I may as well be truthful, there is no point in lying to my book!!
So after tea this morning, about 11, John Hunter, the physio, came round to see a few of us, and explained to me he was going to try to get me out of the bed onto a special piece of equipment called a ‘prone trolley’, great, into the gym I go. He also explained that the exercise would help my spasms and I need to work on my upper body strength, which is vital in rehab. He listened to me when I said how much pain I get, and especially when I have to get turned, and he said he would help by assessing me this afternoon. He seems like a really nice guy actually. He looked a bit ‘majorly’ and serious when I saw him on Monday but he looked a bit more approachable today. Anyway, roll on for the lunchtime pills, and let’s see what this prone trolley has to offer.
Lunch was soup and sandwiches, so I hardly ever have their soup, because I only like ‘Heinz tomato’ or homemade, where I know what’s gone in it! I know, weird! I eat the rest of the crappy things. But the sandwiches never have enough filling—anyway, I shouldn’t be eating so I should be thanking them that everything for me is ‘inedible’ . . . apart from a little tub of their ice cream, which is probably not theirs because it comes in a ready made carton, and is creamy and cool and can only have about 150 calories.
Anyway, true to form, at 2 o’clock John came into the ward rolling the ‘prone trolley’ and oh, my God… how the hell was I going to get on this? On first impression it just looked to me like a very large version of a glorified skateboard… it was like a length of padded wood, with large wheels at the front and the back, and straps in the top, middle and bottom… what the?? I could not imagine me on that contraption. To get on it, they had to raise it to the same height as the bed and use a sheet of ply to turn me over so I was positioned face down, prostrate, hence the name ‘prone’ trolley. What a weird feeling, they put a pillow under my chin for support and then tied the straps to keep me on it. I was staring, first at the floor, and then I tilted my head up and had to put both hands on either side of the wheels. It was so funny at first, well, second actually, I was hurting and not so sure if this was going to happen. I couldn’t steer the flippin thing, and John was trying to advise me, or so I thought. ‘Did you drive before your accident’, he shouted at me with very sarcastic overtones? I shouted back, ‘I certainly did but only sports cars and no jibes about women drivers? ‘Me’? He retorted and then continued, ‘sports cars, eh? well you should shine in the GYM then’, ha ha… at least the guy had a sense of humour.
Well, if nothing else, this ‘trolley’ got me out of bed and by God, was I getting exercise? . . . . certainly not that afternoon! It took me all my time just to get from the ward to the gym and even with a helpful push now and again it took me about half an hour to do what you could walk in 1 min! Oh, well, early days… tomorrow I will do it better. I must say it did take my mind off the pain at first, but by the time I was coming off, my neck was killing me, from the strain of keeping it upright in order to steer… by the way… when I go on an on about my injuries, I hope I’m not getting boring, but sometimes it’s very strange, because I am having to deal with ‘getting used to pain’, as it never seems to completely go away. Some times are better than others, and I never exaggerate how bad my injuries are, and I hope you don’t think I’m a ‘hypochondriac’, . . . that’s not my style! And talking of pain—I was soo sore, when I came off the skateboard, probably because it was so hard and I had a ‘crick’ in my neck, oh, never mind, what do they say ‘no pain—no gain’, then I should be up there with the best of them in the gym now, if progress is measured in ‘pain’, ha ha.
Actually, I am supposed to be seeing the ‘pain doc’ on Thursday, so I will speak to him about these spasms and my neck pain, cause if I am going to be on the skateboard, he might be able to conjure up something for the extra pain to the neck and chest. Let’s hope he can work his magic. Well, so far today I
have been trying not to eat much, so I had biccies this morning with my tea, my ice cream at lunch and an apple… wasn’t I good? . . . . GOD… I’ve got a sweet tooth and I’m hungry!! So much for my good diet. The problem I have is, that in the past when I was hungry I used to eat as much as I wanted by digging out all the things that I should never have, like bacon, egg, chips, burgers, toast, peanut butter, crunchy nut cornflakes with loads of milk, whole packets of chocolate biscuits, virtually everything that would be considered a luxury to eat because of the calories. I wouldn’t obviously eat everything on that list at the same time, I don’t think?—(surely the brain can tell the stomach when it has reached its ‘full capacity’?), then drink fizzy drinks like, coke, any lemonade or juice drinks or milkshake and sometimes yogurt (don’t be too disgusted, but yogurts would leave a better taste in your mouth later), just anything to wash it down. Sometimes if I hadn’t enough food in for my ‘food binges’, I would go out and buy the food then, after eating too much and drinking enough, I would do the most terrible, horrible, disgusting, wasteful, and loathsome act of ‘throwing up’ and ‘yes’, deliberately by using two fingers down my throat if necessary. I was ‘bulimic’ (another story), so I have to be careful now, because I don’t want to binge, I have no means of ‘throwing up’ and it’s hard to be sick after I squashed my diaphram, plus, I don’t want to do that anymore anyway! In fact I love that ‘empty’ feeling and my ‘bulimia’ takes over when I feel full!! . . . I have, to deal with, no binging on food or drink and no smoking (well, I can’t do anything else but not smoke, being confined to my bed!) so, for the time being, giving all that up, or trying to cope with all these different things in one go, isn’t going to be easy. If I’m being honest, I’ve also involuntarily given up, dancing, walking and any other forms of exercise (apart from physio), and yes, that includes sex (one is the hardest) ha-ha s`cuse the pun! Winge, winge, I’m sorry, I’m gonna stop, I’m boring myself now… I need my strength, I need to be tough… I need my PMA back!!!
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