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Not Satisfied Yet-Karyn
My
husband, who I married in 1989, recently told me to go home to my parents, I
guess because my handicap is more than he signed on for. I just got an
apartment built onto their house, so, me my nurse and my new kitten, Pebbles,
won't be in their back pockets. I have a 12-year-old brother, and he has
never had to live with me, because I was in college by his time.
My family has a gray miniature poodle, Bam Bam. I have had a cat all my adult life, and my and my husband's cat is too spoiled, and Andy was the cat for me, so, I chose to let her go, not that he would've given me custody, but I needed a cat. My great-grandfather has had cats all my life, and cats will have young, so he always had kittens in the barn, or in the mother.
I had just moved back home, when he found out he was dying. My parents had an apartment built for me, and as it was finished, told Eddie I wanted a kitten. We got my kitten, who I named Pebbles, and Eddie died the next week.
I had a car accident in 1995. This car accident was on the job, and I remember nothing of about 5 years around June 11, 1996. My memory is there, because it's like taking a test in school. I know everything, but my access to my memory has changed pathways. My TBI makes me a lifelong Worker's Comp case.
I am told I was in a coma for a time, and at some point, I was interred in a special rehabilitation hospital across the country. My long-term memory is fine, and my short-term memory is fine, it' s that point where short-term becomes long-term that is M.I.A.
I am in a wheelchair, but can and do practice on a wheeled walker several times a day. My husband since is divorcing me. I have learned that nothing is impossible for just me, because the doctors predicted (knowledgably, I would add) that IF I awakened from the coma, I'd never leave the hospital. Their prediction jumped up and "bit them on the butt", when I was sent across the country for intensive rehabilitation.
I am handicapped, but alive, and rehabilitating. I will never be the same girl that I was. A 32nd birthday does that in any case, but a serious physical disability, and minor mental handicap are things in my life. My mental handicap is things similar to Alzheimer's. My memory and judgment are impaired, raising the need for a full-time assistant. I call them nurses, but I only require supervision, and assistance. They also guide me through exercises, and a speech therapist comes regularly.
I never realized how important breathing is. My speech therapist, when she comes, and my nurses 2 times a day go through speech therapy with me. Part of that is the use of a Spiro meter, or, breathing machine, as is our reference among ourselves. The Spiro meter helps me relearn the habit of speaking on the exhale. I also do oral motor exercises, and their goal is to strengthen and regain flexibility is my oral cavity, so I can speak clearly.
I recently got braces, and until my accident, my teeth were diagnostically perfect, but now, my speech handicap which was caused by my oral motor handicap is worsened by my handicapped mouth caused by my jaw being shattered in the wreck.
Without Worker's Comp, I'm afraid to consider how our lives would be, because I would have nothing, except a penniless family support system.
I use a wheeled walker, and until last month. It had armrests. I was afraid to imagine losing them, but fortunately, I have a support system that encourages me through my fear, letting me understand that I can achieve things, without making me feel threatened now.
My apartment is great. It has a wood floor, just enough space, and a handicapped height toilet, so I don't need that obvious handicapped seat. I have a brass-toned pole beside my bed, instead of stainless steel, which I had at my other house, because it's cheaper, and harder to damage. My shower in has a handicapped stool, which I mount using poles installed on the walls. I also have a Jacuzzi with poles mounted on the wall, so that I can get in with minor assistance.
My nurses are great! They help me in every imaginable manner, and encourage me to be self-reliant. At first, I didn't enjoy it, but that was before I had reassurance that my presence is desired.
My husband only allowed modifications that suited him, and laid guilt on me about all that had been done for me. He never actually said anything, but it's amazing how one can communicate without saying a word. My husband has disliked spending money as long as I've known him, and Worker's Compensation is a wonderful program, because the modifications that they covered made it possible for me to leave the hospital. Modifications are possible to enable many people to go home. One need only investigate methods, and those methods may be found on the -net, in books, through caregivers or hospitals, or in many other places. There are also professional caregivers to provide many different types of care.
Anyone can ask their primary physician where they may go, and their answer may not be what you're hoping to hear, but one never knows unless one asks. Once you get home, take it from me your life may not be a dream, but neither will it be a nightmare. My life wasn't everything I'd dreamed it would be, and might never be, but I must ask myself if my dreams were enough.
I must ask myself now, looking back over my life, if my traumas (and to say I had a few would be an understatement) had not been what they were, would I be the woman I am now? I'm lesser than I was, but becoming more constantly, and I will never finish becoming more. Before my accident, I had reached a state of satisfaction.
Satisfaction feels good, but feeling good isn't all there is.
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