Take Me Out Back and Shoot Me

        The thing about going to a nursing home or hospital is that it is the antithesis of peace.  There is constant overstimulation to the nervous system, between loud announcements being made 24/7, bright lights, constant movement of staff members who change every eight hours.  The stimulation is overwhelming, the vibration low, heavy, thick, and fear-based.  It is toxic beyond measure; it is the antithesis of healing.

“Deb's How-Not-to-Get-Sick Kit” and What to Do if You Do Guide

         It's that time of year when variations of airborne flus, viruses and colds are floating rampant, and it seems that each year the strains are getting trickier. What follows are preventative guidelines/measures that may help keep you healthy. If you do get sick, rest as much as possible, take your time to fully recuperate, and sample any or all of the "what to do if you do" suggestions. (Hard as it is, I highly recommend informing anyone you've been in proximity to prior to your getting sick that you are.)

          The thing about being exposed to an illness is that, if it is spread by air, often the person who is contagious doesn't even know it; they "come down with" whatever they come down with after-the-fact. Steering clear of airborne germs is challenging, to say the least.

          I, for one, cannot afford to be exposed to anybody that is sick because my immune system is already compromised, so when anyone, especially one of my personal care attendants, tells me they feel sick, I ask them not to come to work or visit, and if absolutely necessary (however briefly), to wear a mask when in my home. (I like the masks they sell at CVS that allow some closure over the nose and fit more snugly than the lighter and cheaper ones you can buy in bulk)

          I truly believe that the "fear factor" influences whether or not we actually "catch" something. There's nothing like creating your own reality; if you lower your vibration by being in fear (as opposed to love), I believe you're more apt to get sick. (This is especially applicable when visiting hospital settings, FYI.)

PREVENTATIVE MEASURES

          If you cough or sneeze, make a habit to do so into your arm/shoulder, then wash your hands.

          Wash your hands a lot. ESPECIALLY when out in public and handling shopping carts, door handles and touching things that other people that might be sick have touched (like the pen they use to have you sign for prescription at CVS, or the bank) Use your own pen!

          Use a hand sanitizer frequently; they are sold everywhere.

The Basic Self

He told me his Dr. said he had to see a nutritionist, exercise more, eat three healthy high-protein meals a day with snacks in between, and to stop eating at 6 PM. He needed to stop drinking coffee and juices. He needed to lose weight and start pricking his finger throughout the day to keep track of his blood sugar levels and, ultimately, avoid having to take medication, or worse, give himself insulin shots. He needed to "take better care of himself" or he would surely become a full-blown diabetic.

He told me he HATED the reality of his situation; "Its too many things to deal with, and I don't like the idea of pricking my fingers every day to draw blood - it makes me want to faint! I want my pork, dammit!"

Beatrice

           The first time I saw her, I was swimming in an outdoor pool on a glorious summer afternoon. The sun beamed a steady warmth, and there was a gentle wind that made the air feel tinged with cold on my exposed skin. The sight of this small framed woman tending to a man in a wheelchair captivated me.

            I tried not to stare.  I tried not to be “one of those people that stares at people with disabilities thinking they are "freaks from another planet," Or, as is typical, has a push pull response as a result of feeling some degree of fear that they might actually "catch" whatever the person they are staring at has that got them in the wheelchair in the first place. "They" remind me that it could happen to me; I feel uncomfortable.

Getting Out The Door

I have multiple sclerosis. The last time I went dancing was 6 years ago. Since then, I’ve been in an electric wheelchair. How I healed myself to this extent is another story. This story has to do with having reached a point in my oddessy where I felt strong enough to go out dancing.

It was an old familiar voice that spoke to me as I put the polishing touches on my attire for the evening. “Why not just rest? You know you’ll be tired in the morning if you go out. Watch TV. Keep your feet up.”

THERE’S NO PLACE TO GO BUT UP FROM HERE

Me, not looking so well

        It took being put to bed by paramedics at 6:30 PM on a Saturday evening and staying there until 9:30 AM on a Monday morning for me to “get” that I really needed to hire more personal care attendants (PC A’s). Upon their return, the head paramedic inquired whether I had enough help, adding that it really wasn’t “their job” to get people in and out of bed. Jackie, who’s been with me as my main PCA and overseas my life, assured him that the circumstances were unique.

        As if It wasn’t enough to have multiple sclerosis and be a power wheelchair user, I had been running a temperature prior to having oral surgery, where, to my dismay, two teeth in the front of my mouth had to be extracted due to fractures, decay and bacterial infection. I had been in denial about having the infection because I already experience so much sensory phenomenon and pain related to having MS 24/7 that I didn’t take the symptoms of tenderness in my mouth seriously.

        I had grown accustomed to and took for granted my ability to transfer out of my queen sized bed onto the commode, out of the power wheelchair into the shower chair and back again after bathing myself.  For the most part, I was independent.  Over the years, however, I had also grown accustomed to having to wear a an adult diaper when going out for any period time, but to date, hadn’t needed to wear one at night.

        I wear one of those “help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up buttons,” and I use it. In this case, Pam, a friend who lives nearby, had come over to assist me in my post operative need for, among other things, hydrating myself. I was on my third round of a strong antibiotic and was forcing fluids in an attempt to also flush toxins. When it came to transferring into bed for the night, I was too weak. The paramedics had to move furniture and me into the bed, a task that rendered me embracing a new level of humility. I remember not caring that I was butt naked in a diaper. I remember asking to be moved more toward the headboard and a little to the left so that I could reach the grab bar. For some reason I thought I would still be able to sit up.

        I was wrong.