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Showing posts with label head injury. Show all posts
Showing posts with label head injury. Show all posts

Monday, July 19, 2010

Hospital Ward – Step 3 of 4 to going home - Part of Picking Up the Pieces Mondays

The only good thing about this step in going home was that I placed close to the bathroom. I know in most cases this is not the prime real estate one desires – but in hospital when you can barely move it becomes an asset. Maybe there were two good things the other two ladies in the room were very pleasant.


I realized that I was not in Kansas anymore, when I was told that the catheter would be removed and I would be learning to transfer from bed to wheel chair to bathroom. After the “removal” a bed pan was slid under me and I was told it would remain there until I went. If I didn’t go the alternative did not sound very pleasant. Luckily for me I was able to will all functions quite quickly – unlike my unfortunate roommate who would be left on the bed pan for up to 1 hour at a time. My heart went out to her – I had my sister (bless her…) –who saved me from that.

The first time I stood up my legs felt like complete jello –jiggley and wobbly - like a colt trying to stand up for the first time after birth- , definitely not able to hold me up and the dizziness. So back into bed the nurse put me. After a few more attempts over the next day, I was able to stay vertical long enough to pivot and sit myself in the wheelchair. Being able to go into the wheelchair, meant that I could be wheeled around the hospital –my sister found this cool and took me down to the cafeteria. I was overwhelmed by the noise and people, but we did stop at the gift shop and stocked up on magazines!

Now that I was able to slowly eat more than broth, my sister would bring me coffee and little treats for breakfast. Hospital “food” that’s what they were calling it anyways even with my taste buds not working, did not resemble anything I was use to consuming. Friends and family quickly came to my rescue and started bringing me food from Pusateri’s (it’s like a Dean & Deluca). In no time I was being treated to real food. Not being able to feed myself, I was extremely grateful that my sister was there to feed me or made sure someone was there, when she could not be. I was the hit of the room – as there was more than enough to share with the other ladies.

Here you were definitely just a bed number to the nurses. I recall the lady across from me who fell getting out of her wheel, transferring to bed. When the nurse came in the room – it was like she was being disturbed. My sister was getting me settled for the night so the curtain was pulled around my bed. I don’t know if the nurse was aware my sister was there because she said this “Oh your too large for me, I’ll have to get someone else to help” – Ok the woman is question may have been a bit on the healthy side – but perhaps – Are you ok? – would have been a better 1st statement. When she came back with another nurse the next thing we heard was “If you don’t help us get you up – you stay there all night!” I gave my sister the look – SEE- they are mean!!!

Once I asked to be turned during the night – I was scheduled to be turned every 2 hours (to the left and then to the right propped with pillows to hold my position and then onto my back) – this particular shift, I woke up and was so stiff, I checked the time on the T.V. it had been almost 4 hours since I was last turned (meaning I was going on 2 missed turns). When I called for the nurse, and asked to be turned she told me “we don’t turn you if you are sleeping”. Interesting I’ve been turned every shift for the last week every 2 hours (day, afternoon, night), I thought to myself – I was too scared to say anything. When I asked if she would please flip my pillow for me, her response was “you have one good arm, you can do it yourself” …as I held back tears, I tried to explain how weak I still was- that I couldn’t sit up or hold my head up on my own from a laying position thus need my arm (weak) to hold me up, leaving no extra arm to flip the pillow. I will never forget her name “Nurse Chad”!! Welcome to hospital night shift.

What I want to share with others;

If you can’t be there during meal time, make sure there is someone there – especially if your loved one can’t feed themselves. Pop in at different times – this way your pattern is not learned. When your loved one says something’s not right have it checked out. I recall how uncomfortable my neck collar felt – I told my sister I didn’t think it was on right, she probably thought I just wanted it off – it wasn’t my favourite accessory! When a doctor came in I had him check it and sure enough it had been put on wrong.

If you or your loved-one, want to have someone stay with throughout the night – don’t ask the nurses, they tell you about visiting hours. Speak with a hospital supervisor or doctor. Provided you are not chatting during lights out or keep the light on disturbing other patients in the room – your request should be authorized.

Send your loved one flowers or something they enjoy, once they are in a Ward unit! Especially if they have come from CCU or ICU, where nothing is permitted due to germs. I was extremely cheered up when I started to receive flowers or cards- more than visits. In a ward anyone can show up to visit your loved one - my sister was great at setting up a visiting schedule - but people still showed up unannounced - which either tired me, cut into a scheduled visit that was cheering me up or completely frustrated me because - I couldn't express I didn't want a particular person to visit. Remember when you can't get out of bed you are at the mercy of others.

Next Monday is the final step before I went home…

Monday, June 21, 2010

Victim to Survivor - Picking Up the Pieces Mondays

The one thing that I have learned by watching people in waiting rooms at medical appointments (trust me I’ve seen plenty, more than I ever imagined existed or that I would be in), speaking with people who have gone through various detours in their lives (be it accident, abuse, job loss, etc.) and my own personal detour, is that we all go through a grieving process. Most professionals have told me there are 5 stages; Denial and Isolation, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Factors that may affect these stages are physical injuries, head injuries and the person’s outlook on life prior to the detour in life.

For me I seem to bounce back and forth through this maze of stages. When I have really bad days, as I sit on the floor, back against the wall – I wish that I could be given a set of gifts to open, and that opened in the right order I would end up at “acceptance” and know who "ME" is now.

Prior to my detour, I had a great and almost perfect life (if it was completely perfect it would have been boring); my career was going amazing – I worked for a fantastic company with an amazing team- was well respected in the industry by both co-workers and competitors; socially my life was very active – lots of friends, lots of functions and dinners to attend; loved entertaining friends at my home (I loved cooking and baking); I was Chair of Fundraising for a homeless youth shelter; I was very fit and loved travelling, shopping – shoes, clothes, handbags; had recently meant someone who I felt would challenge me to be the best I could be; most important to me I was INDEPENDENT. Then in a blink of an eye it was all gone!

Aside from the scars; lack of energy; out bursts (ok - perhaps some would call it tantrums); and when I’m really tired, stressed or anxious - my child like voice and mannerisms that appear – If you saw me you would think - I was OK. What you wouldn’t see is the amount of energy it takes for me to stay focused in a conversation, the preparation that goes into making it possible for me to go out on my own, the results of having attempted to do things – usually a few days in the house/bed and the extra pain that results -, the emotional disappointment/frustration/depression at not being able to do the things I use to do independently, without much thought.

I am still here and breathing, despite the doctors, for 6 weeks, telling my family the outcome did not look good, as I lay in a coma. So I guess I am a survivor – but will I ever be the me I adored, the me that felt so comfortable in her own skin, the me that was never afraid to speak up for herself or anyone that needed someone to stand by them, the me that was so independent, the me that could see anything through to the end - be it work project, social function - without tiring out?
 
Now that you know a little more about how I got here, I hope you visit each Monday for "Picking up the pieces" posts. I will do my best to share the past 3 ½ years and what has helped to keep me alive and moving forward. I hope to inspire you to stay positive and together we will get there. I encourage you to share your thoughts and what has worked for you - your comments may also help to inspire others.

images: google search - Jupiterimages and Shutterstock - wording added to gift boxes me.
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