I’m not sure if I mentioned it yesterday, but as you know, I have my drinking problem that I am trying to deal with, and my social worker though it might be a good idea to contact the AA in the hospital. Well, bad move. A person, professing to be a man representing the AA came in looking for someone with my name, and I must admit that at first I was unwilling to own up to it, because he was a creepy-looking guy, with a goatee beard, long black mac, a scarf thrown round his neck twice, and wearing thick black gloves. Anyway, I gave in, and told him it was me he must be looking for, and he strode over-confidently towards me. At that point, I was thinking ‘oh, good grief what the hell’ . . . ?? He introduced himself as Alistair from the AA, and I told him who I was and then invited him to sit down, and to please lower his voice. Immediately he took my request, asking him to lower his voice, as me ‘being in denial’. I explained that we were in a bloody hospital and that it wouldn’t matter having a loud voice like his normally, but in a hospital, not everyone wants to hear your business and in my case, very personal business… he didn’t like that… . too bloody bad. He kept calling me MATE as if we were old buddies and I asked him to please not call me his ‘mate’! agh! Then he started to ‘preach` and was so very condescending. I wasn’t a novice; in fact, I could have worn the T-shirt with Drink Addict—’what makes you think you’re gonna convert me’, on it. I ‘knew’ I had a problem that I was going to address, but I’m afraid, stuck in a hospital bed, too many injuries to cope with and not knowing the extent of my paralysis, with all strange people and patients around me; I couldn’t cope with some creepy, very loud, condescending, arrogant, totally friggin nutty Glaswegian, trying to offer me a one-to-one! oh god, the mere thought turns my stomach. I’m sure that does not come into the AA remit, especially when he was on his own and wasn’t with another AA member who should be a female. He then had the audacity to ask me if I had considered getting someone to sneak drink in for me. Stupid prick. No! I hadn’t, but maybe that’s not such a bad idea, I hadn’t thought of that but now the seed was planted!! I didn’t say that to him, in fact, I felt like saying it’s a work-in-progress! He was in for about 15 mins, and I couldn’t put up with him, any longer after his previous comment about sneaking the drink in, and told him he wasn’t being very helpful and would he mind leaving!! Well, his stare nearly turned me to stone… he thought I was being very rude and retorted ‘well, not everybody wants or feels the need to be helped’ AAh!! I wanted to scream `PISS OFF! ` But I was in the hospital, and he pretty quickly grabbed his creepy long black mac and scarves and hot-footed it out of the ward!!
What the hell is it with me and the AA??!!
Funny though, he was meant to leave some leaflets, but he didn’t… mmh? He gave up pretty easy—not a very tolerant, conscientious AA disciple!?
Spoke to my kiddies, and Mitch was pretty amused at the thought of his mother lying on a huge skateboard trying to get round corners and picking up any speed, and being a danger to other patients. The kids seemed to be happy enough, and were mucking about on the Playstation, so I told them not to be fighting with each other, because I know how they get with each other… a toy fight end up in the two of them beating lumps out of each other. Then I said nite nite to my pups. Barry came on eventually and said ‘hi’ and we had a brief chat before he said he had to go… . He had a work call on the other phone. Oh, ok, bye! So, it goodnight from him… and it’s goodnight from me… , and it’s goodnight from my kiddies and it’s goodnight to mum and all my family xxxxxx
Wednesday 12th November
Well, the nights are hell at the moment, you would think there could be something they could give me for the spasms that could really help, and a bed that automatically turns me around every 4 hours, like a large mechanical spit, instead of the nurses having to do it. When they do it, I just about always wake up, and they are so ‘clumsy’ it hurts me. This turning is all necessary because of the pressure sore that’s on my bum but, why I’m needing turned so often is a direct instruction from Mr Templar, who says they are to carry on with the turns until the next operation, and I get the distinct impression that there are going to be other operations after that, because he says the next, which doesn’t feel like the he means the last. When I speak to him I will ask—he’s a nice man and he will tell me the truth. I wonder if they know about the extent of the paralysis yet? Today the pain in my ribs (imaginary corset) and the back are so bad, I keep falling asleep and I’m missing the gym—oh, talking about the pain, I am seeing a Dr Mackenzie, (I wont forget that name, eh Simon), the pain doctor, and I am going to ask for stronger pain killers and maybe an anti-depressant to help me get through this. It’s starting to get me down and I need cheering up. Maybe they will put me back on the morphine? I wonder? But that was what I had to come off wasn’t it—I can’t quite remember if they confirmed that? Or will they? Someone must be liable? Anyway, I’m putting off going on the ‘prone trolley’, because, quite simply, it hurts too much at the moment and I am too bloody sore.
One good thing is the ‘podiatrists’ came round today and there was a female with him, and I was asking her would she give me a pedicure and paint my nails, but she couldn’t do it. I wasn’t being serious anyway? Actually she said they were good enough to paint and I tell you, that’s a first, normally my feet would be victims of the phantom ‘picker’—so, at least I’m gonna have well groomed slabs for when I walk! Do you know, because I didn’t go to the gym I stuffed (and I would never do this) 14 biscuits into my ‘fat face’! Oh God, now I’m even more depressed, and I’ve just been told I have a urine infection (UTI), I’m even learning the short form, good eh! What the hell is short for ‘really depressed’, ‘suicidal’ maybe?
I feel like the Gods are against me today, because I don’t know what I have eaten, but it’s going straight through me, and I’ve had to get ‘changed’ so so many times and its really ‘degrading’, but I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I would rather be changed by ‘anyone’ than stink. And, I shouldn’t feel myself being touched, but I’m sure I do, or maybe it’s just because I can ‘smell’ it and that makes it ‘smellyvision’, though, I’m so sure I can feel it? Oh, I don’t know anymore, it’s making me weak anyway, and my pain is so so bad I just feel like blocking it all out. Oh, I’m getting weary.
I was woken up and it was Casey and Mitch on the phone, I’m afraid I wasn’t very cheerful but I always try to sound positive when the kids phone because I don’t want them worrying; there is such a lot to take in, God knows, how the little pets are taking it all in. If it was my mum? . . . oh god, don’t go there… I would be devastated and don’t know if I could cope. The thought of anything happening to my mum just gives me shivers, I would be distraught! Then, thinking of angels, mum phoned, and I played the ‘cheerful’ card again and my superb mum even told me that she was finding out if there was any sort of association she could join to help, in the way of understanding and support!! Oh bless, she was so relieved to hear from me too, because she had trouble getting through!! These bloody phones, that shouldn’t have to happen in this specialised spinal unit when there are so many concerned relatives. We should all be supplied with our own patient line; actually that’s a good idea, and I would pay extra for it, and I know my family would? Mmh? not such a bad idea to put to the ‘powers that be’.
Well, since I was awake and a bit more cheerful because of my phone calls, I thought about phoning Cat to say thanks for her lovely visit and just to say ‘hi’, and to phone Maclean to find out his cold is?
The National TV awards are on the telly at the moment and for the record they are crap… they have on the ‘cheeky girls’ at the moment, and I remember them for Christmas in that rehab when one of the carers used to ‘mimic’ them, and it was actually quite funny, but as for these awards, I’m going to have to get something stronger from the nurse if I watch any more of this cause I will be suicidal. I will be back soon, I have to get ‘turned’ again and that means more sp
asms and more pain… help!
Thursday 13th November
I don’t want my book to be boring and repetitive, but at the moment, it’s the same old story. I’m always in absolute pain and the turns hurt and wake me up… so sleeping is the only solution to feeling no pain, and then waking up brings home the horrendous realisation of the pain that hasn’t miraculously gone away.
Well, lets see, I have to try and have a day of, wait for it… ‘NO’—overeating, moaning at the gym, complaining at the nurses when they turn me and backchat to the staff… Oh, and one other thing I MUST remember to do is phone Marie—it’s her birthday today, and I do like to remember hers because we are the closest in age and well, she deserves a call, she’s unwittingly cool, and fun… and I do love ‘er…
Well, just came back from my morning in the ‘cage’—and I have ‘FAILED’ already on all counts. What the hell, I gotta sort out this bad attitude and remember PMA!
Well this afternoon, spoke to Witch Doc for a potion. He didn’t think anti-depressants were the answer and said that they have to be careful of my meds because of the morphine and my ‘addictive’ nature, I have to have meds that are not ‘mind altering’, well, I said ‘to hell with that’ and, is taking away the pain considered mind-altering, and guess what, he said ‘no’, so he is going to increase the meds for the pain, and when I asked him why I can feel the pain if I’m supposed to be paralysed, he told me it was the nerve endings, which caused ‘neurogenic pain’?? I think that’s the name? So, his little explaination sounded feasable enough and he seemed a really nice, genuine guy, but then anyone who can help with this pain I get, is up there with my ‘superheroes’? (I don’t have superheroes, not even ‘Superman’, after all, looked what happened to him! It was his horse that he was bucked from, wasn’t it? poor bastard! The rest of the afternoon, I thought ok to prone trolley because I really do want to exercise, and once I am on it, if I am concentrating on where the hell I’m going and trying to control the wheels, I know the exercise helps, and operating the damn thing takes my mind off my pain for a while, but it’s a bit like sleep, when I have to be taken on and off, it’s a bit like the turns, it bloody hurts, but ok once I’m on! Oh, the Doc also told me that it ‘will take a few days’ for the new meds to work because they have to get into my system properly! I don’t wanna have to wait for the pills to work, but I have no choice, but see, I’m getting good at the ole lingo stuff, don’t you think? Remember, all this rehab jargon, and getting used to regular medication, and how MUCH there is to take, is all new to me! I’m surprised I’m allowed any medication of any description after the ‘carry on’ with the old morphine!
Later on I got a phone call from Marie just to say hi (shit, I meant to phone her) and she just kept asking the usual questions at first, ‘how was I, had I had a good day, was I walking yet… ok, she didn’t really ask the last one, but she rambled for a bit, then I interrupted her mid-sentence and said ‘old age is a terrible thing, and I hear the retirement age is going up to 64! Oh, no that means you will have to wait 4 more years’, silence, ‘Cheeky bitch, is that your way of saying Happy Birthday’? Came Maries retort… we laughed and talked for a bit about our younger days and it’s quite funny to reminisce… . you know, it was actually nice (a word I hate because it is so non-descript and ‘safe’ ) and enjoyable to be part of Maries 42nd birthday, normally, before, I never bothered (to be honest) and was unaware of birthdays or even days and dates. I was telling her that today they had taken us round to the gym to watch some fencing… oh my gawd… . was it boring or was it boring, bloody hell… it was watching-paint-dry boring… probably not helped, by the fact that I would just have loved to really kill someone, to vent my anger, at having to be witnessing the sword fencing from a friggin bed! Imagine if they had asked me for a shot… no, I can’t imagine it either!! I was saying that they should teach us something like skydiving or water skiing or scuba diving, at least your not going to break your spine or leg or anything???? But as Marion explained, it is good that they are giving us a variety of thing to try, and it takes away from the monotony of the gym and some people maybe like less adventurous sports. Not everyone fell off a 40ft wall diving, mmh? ‘Thank you’ for that Marie… needless to say, the conversation went a bit flat after that. Anyway, I was tired and didn’t take it to heart. Marie had said the ‘right thing’ in the ‘wrong way’. I told her not to worry and to stop apologising… I know Marie, she has a lovely nature, and I know she didn’t mean it the way it came out. So, I started to tell her about the cage, and then thought I better change the subject off the gym altogether so, I told her about my sweet tooth, and in fact I was having a sweet whilst talking to her. She said to take advantage of the gym, and working hard there would work off the calories. Oh, yes, I know she’s right, if I did all the work, it would, wouldn’t it? Stuck in a bed or on a glorified skateboard isn’t the best way of sweating off the calories. We spoke about the kids, Marie has Laura, Evan and Andie; they are good kids and Marie is great with them. Her hubby is a waste of space, sorry Marie, but I can’t stand him! Probably vice versa… . suits me! Marion is great with my kids too. Well, time to go and we don’t always say it enough, but Marie said ‘I love you kid and don’t you forget it’, I told her touché; after she went I thought about ‘us’, and you know I do love her so much, and I don’t like upsetting her. Have a good birthday KID! (she normally calls me that because I’m the youngest).
After that I spoke to the kids, and Mitch was actually on the phone for about twenty mins. We were talking about them coming up at Christmas… he is quite excited. Barry came on the phone and said that they were thinking they would come up and spend Christmas with me and they would be able to stay a bit longer because of the holiday and they would just stay somewhere close to the hospital. I mentioned my mate Caron being in Glasgow, and even though he likes Caron, he felt at xmas it didn’t feel right to ask; I suppose he’s right, anyway, Casey was out and I said bye and night. I love them all so much and the thought of them coming up at xmas just makes me think ‘don’t be a moaney cow, you now have something to look forward to’!! Please please let me be in a wheelchair by then. Oh, talking of which as Christmas is ‘looming’, it’s not going to be that bad for me financially, because I will only have to buy pressies for the kids and Barry and Mum, and send out some cards, And that’s that!! Oh, and a pressie for Karen Mac! Karen will probably get hers in the summer!! Best mate bless er’!
At the moment I’m watching ‘Hollow Man’, and it’s a great film, and I’ve seen it before, but I remember thinking it then and then thinking it now… . WHAT A WASTE… . I love Kevin Bacon (remember footloose and tremors and Flat liners) and he is bloody INVISIBLE throughout most of the film—what a waste!!
I feel like a ‘fat pig’ and I’m in so much pain (goes with the territory these days). One last thing, say a prayer for me… . tomorrow I see Dr Dunne (serious mtng so he gets his real name) and the Consultant!! Oh God, I hope its good news??? I will be keeping everything crossed, even try and keep my legs crossed… I… . wish? . . . .
Friday 14th November
Oh no, 7.30, lights on—I hate those damn strip lights—and then a voice that would be more suited to a ‘market stall person in Govan’, rather than an auxiliary nurse, in a hospital in Govan; bellows out in the loudest strongest Glasgow accent ‘OI, IT’S THAT TIME AGAIN GUYS AND DOLLS, IF A GOTTA BE OUT AE BED AND UP THEN SAE DAE YAE`!! (the wrong spelling is deliberate).
What a cow, its bad enough being woken up at the best of times, because for me, I normally wake up in so much pain and not always in the best of moods, or if I’ve had a particularly bad night, it’s quite usual for me to just get to sleep as the lights come on, and depending on the nurse, sometimes I’m allowed a ‘reprieve’ and permitted to sleep on, even though this is the spinal rehab unit, and you really are meant to push yourself. In fact, as soon as you are able, (like when I eventually detoxed from the morphine), they start y
our rehabilitation virtually immediately, and at the moment I HATE IT!! So, LOUD LINDA, that’s the name I’ve given her, but to be honest, she’s not just bold and brash, her actual voice is as loud as a foghorn, and you may recognise her as the nurse that woke up everyone, the day I referred to the ward as STALAG. She conjures up to me an image of just how horrendous it would have been to get woken up in the one of those japaneze prisoner of war camps, like in a programme I watched called ‘Tenco’ . . . definitely a horrible comparison.
Anyway, I was woken up so rudely I wasn’t in the best of moods, when the other staff nurse came on, who is the complete opposite, and funnily enough she is called Linda as well, but the total opposite.
Well, it was a ‘suppository’ day and it’s only the trained nurses that can insert the two tablets into your back passage! Yuk! it makes me cringe. I know I have mentioned this before but I need to detail it again, and I probably will, again and again, and again, but it is just to remind myself of just how awful and undignified I think think it is, and something else in this god-damn rehab unit that I know I will NEVER get used to. You know, you would think the accident would have been the worst and most terrible thing that could happen, and at the time it was, but NOT necessarily any more—now the pain, the unknowing, the defeatest attitude, the stress, the anguish and frustration and the sheer hell of the realisation that this could now be how your whole ‘sorry` existence’ is going to be can be even more scary and ‘suicidally’ depressing. Again, it’s that question of ‘why me’ and that is not self-pity talking, it is just a question I am desperately looking for an answer to, knowing it never WILL be answered?!
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