Friday, 11 March, 2011
I realize that what I write in a blog or journal can help me with my thought process, memory recall, and help in improving my writing skills. I enjoy writing though; I don’t spend as much time doing it as I could. This made me recognize the extreme lack of discipline I have in making time to write. Part of this problem came about because I have lost most of the function in my right hand brought about by MS. My right side was my dominant side. Amazingly, I have since learned, rather quickly to write left-handed. Remarkably, adapting to this change has not been nearly as tough as I had dreaded. Endurance however is something I had to build. For my left hand writing at first was very tiring and somewhat painful; because the muscles in that hand were not used to making the movements required to write.
I am continually learning to accept the many changes in my abilities, and making adaptation to how I do everyday tasks as result of these changes. It’s not been easy to ask others for help with things I took for granted, and once was capable of doing myself. It has been hard setting aside pride, and even consciously realizing that I had so much of it. Part of it involves not wanting to seem so needy. Also, not wanting to bother others, which brings out the fear of being a burden to those I love and care so much about. I do not want to become a burden, and this stirs up fear of abandonment.
Update>(01. 16.2013) After all my whining about not wanting to lose my independence , and modesty, and needing other people to take care of even my most personal, somewhat embarrassing needs. On 12.21.2012 I had low back surgery, and that was the beginning of my humbling dependency. I couldn’t do a much for myself after surgery, and wasn’t expected too. Still this e wasn’t easy, yet I had no choice. I couldn’t get out of bed alone,get up from a chair, and needed help to get to the toilet. Because I only have use of one arm, my left things could somehow found their way out of my reach often. This made me feel even more frustrated. If I didn’t watch my thoughts and emotions my frustration could turn to desperate panic, like being stuck with no help! I would have to sort through my rapidly building emotions and a frantic need to yell for help! Trying to keep reminding the panicked little person in me, that she’s not trapped. However, my end of the hall room was some distance from the nurse’s station. I could yell, hoping someone might hear my weakened, dry voice. I tried without any positive result. I just couldn’t raise my volume enough. If only I had made sure the call button was within reach before I was left alone. Of course this never happened again. There after I made certain that call button was right next to me.
After surgery it took two nurses to help me out of bed, and a walker equipped with an attached platform to secure my right arm too. I needed maximum support while I crept so slowly to the bathroom. It was somewhat surprising that I had lost so much strength and balance. Keeping my focus on each step was important. Oh how quickly fatigue set in. My legs were heavy and resistant to my brain telling them to move. The toilet was adapted with a chair like port-a-potty over it, with arm rails. I appreciated the rails when I needed extra help scooting into place. Everyday the struggle of standing and walking seemed to bringing minimal improvement in strength, and endurance. If I was to dwell on this slow progress my heart would sink, and it was looking limy destination for the Christmas holiday was going to be a transfer to a rehab facility. This was not something I had thought of, and yet the time drew near for me to exit the hospital to wherever I was to go. I had assumed I would be home to celebrate the holiday with my family. A hard reality I didn’t want to face. I tried as we all do to put on my brave face and to accept what was about to become my temporary home.
Alas, my prayers were answered. My insurance was closed when the hospital tried to make arrangements for me to be admitted to the rehab. facility. I was released from the hospital on Christmas eve, and had to go HOME! I was going to get to celebrate my Lord’s birth with my family. No more grin and bear it. This happened to present it’s own problems. My husband became my main caretaker.