"12 Days Later" or "Medical Hostages": You pick this entry's title

June 30, 2008

"12 Days Later" or "Medical Hostages": You pick this entry's title

I suppose that if I were to choose the title of "12 Days Later", it gives off less of an impending pity party, which could quite possibly follow any way. However, if I were to choose "Medical Hostages", you, the reader, could certainly expect a rather wordy-written pity party. So, being that I'm be getting to right now at 12:54 a.m. Monday morning, let's go ahead and "I'll choose "Medical Hostages for $100, Alex..."

If you're currently bored, reading this will not likely to change your mood; just so you know. Bring on the "Blah, blah, blah..."
Okay, what is a Medical Hostage? Until these past several weeks, I never even thought of the term, but I suppose I would explain the term to be used in any scenario where a person is suffering from some sort of medical malady that prohibits that person from pursuing or experiencing their routine or normal lifestyle, as it was prior to the medical issue, taking precedence. Anyone who reads this blog knows of all the things that are going on with me, at least within two weeks of "said" activity that's going on with me... so with that I'll bring you up to speed, though it's not far from the norm:

Over the past 12 days. I have experienced attacks, nearly daily, and sometimes two attacks in a single day, let alone night attacks, which I am not directly aware of, in that, I tend to sleep through them, to an extent, but the muscle spasms are enough to wake up CC out of the cold sleep. It is commonplace is to wake up in the morning with my pillow stuck to my head, bottom sheet and top sheet stuck to me as well, due to sweat; a complete body print is visible on the bed when I get up. The day before yesterday (Saturday), turned out to be a very productive day for the most part. As a family, we all got different tasks accomplished in the house and outside the house and we ventured out to have a family date watching the movie, "WALL-E" (very good, refreshing), during which I remained in my motorized chair, and only consumed snacks and food that we specifically made and brought from home. We then drove to Rockland and dropped Missy off at a friend of hers for an overnight stay, and then on our way home, CC, Joshua and I stopped by a restaurant that we have not been to together as a family, called Ruby Tuesday's. The food was excellent, and the waiter was very attentive to my particular needs, including a manager following up with us at the end of our meal; we were very, very impressed.
It was looking like we had completely succeeded in a venture out of the house without me succumbing to an attack triggered by either exhaustion, heat and/or food... before we could make it home though, the oxygen tank that was thought to be securely situated directly behind me, turned out not to be securely situated, and it fell making a very loud bang directly behind me; for the second time in recent memory, and attack was triggered within me, because of my being very startled. My arms and legs immediately froze in the positions that they were in; I was unable to move my fingers, my toes, ankles, knees and wrists. Breathing became difficult; short breaths and gasps were all that I was able to manage while the spasms begin to take control. CC explained to me that we got home and into the driveway, and that Joshua was unable to get the normal wheelchair under me, as she lifted me out of the van and tried to put me into the chair. So I ended up falling against the chair and then onto the ground, onto my back. It was not Joshua's fault; the legs of the wheelchair turned out to be extended too far so that he was unable to get the chair far enough forward for me to sit into it. God brought a good Samaritan to us, in the form of one of our neighbors across the street; she approached and asked CC if she needed help. CC said yes.
The Samaritan noted that I was not "skinny", shall we say, so she suggested that she would go and bring a couple of men from another neighbor to come and help. According to CC, the four of them were able to lift me up and get me put into the chair and then CC and the original good Samaritan helped get me into the house and onto the couch, much to Annie's panic that an intruder had walked into her home and I was incapacitated (Annie has become very in-tune to me and my medical condition; it is not unusual for her to be the first one aware that I am not well. She will begin barking in a panicked sort of way and then running to where family members are in the running back to me, back to family members, back to me, until somebody comes and follows her to where I am. While I am lying on the couch, if my arm and hand are not covered by a blanket, she will put yourself in a position where she can very softly, slowly and very gently lick my hand and my fingers and arm. It seems to be her way of caring for me and treating me the best she knows how). Anyway, I think I spent the next six hours or so, on the couch in what was a very long and painful attack.
This morning was productive as well as yesterday was, but today's attack hit around 3ish as I was sitting down to a snack and some brief TV...3 to 4 hours later, the attack was ebbing but we needed to pick up Missy and her friend, so I managed my way into the van and remember very little from the errand out; I couldn't be left alone at home while the errand took place. I have no recollection of any dinner...? The meds I take make certain that my short term memory gets "formatted" (like a hard drive) several times per day. CC goes nuts daily with all of my repeated questions...Praise God she loves me, and I mean that most sincerely

The Hostage Aspect:
I'll strive to make this shorter than my last diatribe. To my memory, this disease has held me hostage from my working for a living, from my privilege of driving, from my being able to ride bikes with my family, and specifically with my children, from walking without a cane, and not having to have oxygen on during the day times and during the night times, preventing me from chaperoning Missy's school dances, preventing me from being able to drive my children to and from school, from attending my nephew's graduation from high school, from attending my nieces graduation from high school, from attending one of my very good friend's wedding in San Francisco, from being at MPPC for Doug's final Sunday service, from finishing Vern's choir recordings, from being realistically considered to take my family and join the rest of my extended family up in Oregon this year, from being able to take a plane flight that is over a couple hours, from being able to romance my wife with the freedom we once knew, from eating nearly every single favorite food I have ever known, from just being alone, by myself for an extended period of time...to name a few...
this disease does not just told me hostage but it holds my whole family hostage. It creates an awkwardness in weirdness between me and my friends, because so many don't really know what to do with what I am going through, and I'm sure that somewhere inside, they have the previously un-thought question of "what do I do if he all of a sudden goes into an attack. And I am the only one there with him?" I try to put myself in their shoes, but that just makes me feel more awkward and uncomfortable.

Well, it is time to end this entry; I have "partied" enough for one morning, no? I just couldn't try and go to sleep one more night while thinking the thoughts I have noted above, knowing that I had not let them go yet. Now I have; they are out of my head and into my blog.

More history awaits tomorrow to become the present and then invaluable memories.