Searching Uselessly for Food
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Forgotten
We were coming home from a band clinic, and I was riding in the car with the band director’s wife and son. The son was a couple of years older than me, and he was driving. We were all sitting in the front seat of one of those big, 1950s cars. We stopped for church, and afterwards his mother asked to trade places with me. I moved to the middle of the front seat, and she moved to the right. That’s the last thing I remember.
I Get By with a Little Help From My Bot
Right before Thanksgiving, my power chair took an unexpected turn off a ledge in our driveway. I went flying into the sound of concrete thudding against my right side. Broken cheekbone. Area above eye split open. Mild brain blood bleed. Cuts and scratches all over my body. At the moment of impact lights flickered, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to survive.
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Freedom
As a clinical psychologist, I saw many people disabled by intense emotional problems and psychotic illnesses. All were compromised to some degree. Many of the most compromised were inpatients on psychiatric units that I ran, before such units started closing down. Many ended up on the streets. Some were lucky enough to have family take them in.
One man I worked with was different. My psychology chief at the VA knew I taught relaxation therapy and asked me to see if I could help a patient on the spinal cord unit. After he got out of the service, “Tom” had been stabbed in the neck by a robber-addict’s needle. Paralyzed, he had feeling in one finger, but that arm stayed spasmed to his chest.
Moving On
Denny was one year ahead of me in grad school and a close friend. We shared so many plans about our future! I knew he was gay, but his bisexual partner was the only other person in on that secret. This was the 1960s, and coming out wasn’t an option back then if you planned to be employed in certain professions.
Trouble Getting Help
A few years ago, I lost my balance and ended up on the floor with what turned out to be a broken shoulder, multiple bruises, and a semi-concussion. Because my white blood cell count was elevated, the admitting doctor kept me in the hospital for four days on a saline IV, since an attempt to put me on an antibiotic gave me hives. I’d consistently had bad reactions to other antibiotics in the past, so he relied only on the saline to clear my system.
I was in bad pain, since pain medicine makes me throw up or gives me other debilitating symptoms. So I managed through those four days with Tylenol, cool packs, and my arm in a sling. The orthopedist sent by the admitting doctor after my scans were done felt the break would bond on its own if it was kept stable. I was terrified.
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Housebound
I’ve always enjoyed being around people, both at work and with friends. I also liked daily biking and sailing off and on. Then, in 1990, a neuroimmune illness hit me out of the blue. Since that time, the disease has kept me almost completely housebound and able to tolerate only brief personal contacts.
The Times They Are A-Changin’
In the tiny town where I grew up, we had two pharmacies. Both pharmacists knew you, your family, and what your general medical needs were. If your car wasn’t available—common in those one-car-per-family days—they would run your medicine out to your house at their first opportunity. In an emergency, they would open the pharmacy at night.
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Living in a Tub of Sweat
My husband is an air-conditioning contractor based in southeast Florida, where A/C is needed almost the whole year round. This summer has been particularly hot—the temperatures pushing everyone’s A/C units to their limits. He comes home soaked in sweat and arrived on the border of a heat stroke one day.
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Doctors Run When They See Me Coming
I take two medications. One is Armour Thyroid, as I can’t tolerate the usual thyroid medication. The other addresses symptoms of a neuroimmune disease I’ve had for years—allowing me to endure sound and light and stopping the minor seizures I had when I was subjected to those two things. Those meds help me, and I am grateful for them. But the problem is that I can tolerate almost no other medication that doctors have suggested.
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