Skip to main content

Me No Speak

Telling people what I need. It's the bane of my existence.

I have ALS, amyotrophic lateral  sclerosis, or Lou Gehrig's disease. As such, ALS has no treatment nor a cure. It has myriad symptoms that lead ultimately to death: mucus gone wild, muscle spasms, emotions hijacked, paralysis, swallow insufficiency, and voicelessness, to name a few. I'm going to pick at voicelessness, actually unintelligible speech. Yeah, I  make noise, but few can discern what I'm saying.

Unfortunately, I have a high number of caregivers unfamiliar with intricacies of my care. As such, they all think they are capable of attending to my care needs but, sadly, they are not. Take turning me in bed, as in the numerous diaper changes I require in a day. Due to muscle atrophy, or death, surrounding my lungs and chest, I use my belly and diaphragm to breathe. This requires my caregivers to handle me by my shoulder and hip, and not to lean me against their body. They don't naturally do this which is bad for me. I can only say "Off" to which they usually argue that they must hold onto me or I will fall off the bed.

"Well, no shit!", I think, "I have ALS, not memory loss." Then, there are those who remove their hands and allow my body to lean against their bodies. Now I'm really struggling. Allowing the weight of my body to rest against theirs is worse, as I will tire once the adrenalin of the fight or flight response peters out. If I had custody of my voice I would say, "Turn me by my hip and shoulder only. And don't lean against me, please." 

Life with ALS would be so much easier.

Consider this, I'm on my side, needing suctioning but can only just manage, "Mouth" to indicate the vicinity of my problem. Now it's up to the caregiver to play 20 Questions. "Do you need it wiped?" "Do you need suctioning?" I nod ascent to the latter. Unfortunately, it's about now that I realize mucus is not draining out of my mouth as I need to be turned a bit more. I say "Over".  However, she refuses, citing lack of space to do so safely.

I insist as I only require my shoulders to be rotated about a centimeter and can be done safely. Sadly, she's not a PCT, and doesn't seem to realize this. She grabs my shoulder underneath and yanks it forward, bringing my shoulder in exactly the wrong alignment, stressing my shoulder joint nearly to dislocation, causing me considerable pain. If I could speak I would have prevented all the missteps and the pain or at least be able to communicate my pain.

Do you know I've been scolded more than once to "Use your words" or some such sentiment by skilled caregivers. And worse, I've been told "I cannot understand you!" and walked out on many times. Is this really the best caregivers can do? 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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...

You're Not You...Me, Too!

1 Wow! Spot on...In so many ways.  Granted I wasn't in the the same socio-economic circumstance, and neither do I play piano but I was passionate about knitting and I lost the ability to engage in my passion practically from the onset of the ALS. Symptoms first manifested in my right hand as well. I was big on juicing, supplements, and did not worry about fats nor calories. But ALS advanced relentlessly. I hired friends as caregivers and had to bear the humiliation of being toileted by them.One of the worst hurdles for me was allowing a long time male friend wipe me following a toilet. My mother, stepfather, and sister all toileted me as well. Of course, my husband had to attend to all of my most delicate needs, showering, dressing and make-up application. I could really relate to Hillary Swank's character, Kate, in all circumstances except, she chose not to use the bipap (breathing apparatus).  I don't really get why somebody would opt out of a non-invasive solution to...

Kate

I think about my friend, Kate Struby, who died from this horrible disease in 2013. She lived here at Bailey Boushay House before I did. I reached out to Kate online through FaceBook because I loved her photograph with her head thrown back in laughter. I also loved her posts. I guess I just loved her spirit. I got to finally meet her one month before she died. I happened to be at the University of Washington Medical Center for my quarterly appointment when I saw her FaceBook post. She was awake and in the medical ICU. She was a mere few floors down. I would not be stopped. Relativeor no, I would meet my FaceBook friend. Thank God I did. I rolled into the room to find a beautiful, ethere.al woman flanked by two friends. Although it was an impromtu visit, she said she knew me immediately.I was in awe of her with her fiery spirit despite the ravages of our shared disease. She, unable to lift even a finger, lifted my spirit.