Skip to main content

Breath

11Dear Caregiver,

I need for you to realize how much ALS impacts my breathing. Like most caregivers, you probably already understand that my muscles are failing me. ALS affects neurons in both my brain and spinal column, overexciting, then killing them. Hence, my fasciculations (muscle twitches, nee spasms), paralysis, dysphagia (swallow difficulty), and dysarthria (speech difficulty).

ALS affects my breathing making it difficult to breathe while flat on my back or when I'm set up at 90-degrees.  Do not underestimate the effect, the weight, that gravity has on weakening chest muscles, including the diaphragm. It's like trying to breathe with a 100-lb weight on my chest. It can, literally, kill me. It's why I fly into a rage at caregivers, seemingly without provocation. I'm in fight or flight mode, trying desperately to live to see another day.

One of the most problematic activities is changing my Attends. It is essential to minimize the amount of time I spend flat on my back. Gather all supplies prior to reclining me, (includes brief, wet washcloths, sheets, pads). Also, raise the bed up for caregiving PRIOR to reclining me. Know your stuff. Don't expect me to give direction nor to respond to questions while reclined. If a delay is unavoidable, turn me on my side. I breathe easier on my side. If I am trying to speak, listen carefully. There is a problem or I would be quiet.

Make no mistake, I am high maintenance. I am exacting, a micro-manager, the stakes are high, SURVIVAL.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Creep

  Have you ever used the internet to look up an old flame? How about an old arch-enemy? Did you have the intention to reconnect? Me neither.

I Remember...

I remember catching fireflies,  putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field.  That field was my