Life Is Fragile

The older I get, the more I come to see how fragile life is. In the blink of an eye, anything can happen and life changes, for you, your family, your friends. And it's so completely unsure.

When Kaeden returned from America, he was excited to see his friends again. Particularly his girlfriend. Upon his return, he learned that his girlfriend had been in a serious car accident and was in critical care in the hospital. She was comatose and beyond that, nobody could tell us anything. Eventually, Kaeden was able to reach his girlfriend's mom via her cell phone, and she relayed the information that his girlfriend was still in a coma and had been moved to another hospital. This, of course, had a big impact on Kaeden, though he never wanted to discuss the situation. I offered to help him find out additional information and take him for a visit if that was something he wated to do. He refused my offer, and every week I ask how she is doing, if he has heard news.

This week he came home to tell me his girlfriend came out of her coma on Monday. He spoke with her yesterday and her memory is very sketchy. When I asked him more, he said he didn't want to talk about it and I saw his shoulders tense and his face grimace. I went to touch him to offer my support, and he pulled away. I knew the sign...just leave me alone.

I quietly and calmly told him if he wanted to talk, I would be here to listen. Tonight when he came home from Judo, I asked how it was as he ate dinner. Then I eased into how things went at school this week, and simply asked what he knew about Kathleen. I told him I would like to know so I don't have to worry any more. So, though he was tense, he told me his story, of her needing to undergo operations, of her not remembering anything, of her wounds. He didn't give a lot of details, but when I told him I am so happy she woke up and is still alive, he touched me on my arm. "Me too, mama. I wish that didn't happen, but I am so glad she is going to be okay." I was so pleased he opened up to me, let me in to share his pain and grief. Allowed me to offer comfort and support.

I will continue to pray for her, and for my son who has to live with the emotions of this event in his life. Life is fragile. For all of us.

Driving

Today I planned a day out with a girlfriend. For Christmas, I bought her a surprise of High Tea and we just got around to going. She had no clue what our plans were which I always find even more fun. I picked her up and off we went.

I discovered that since my accident and having no current driving experience, I am not nearly as good a driver as I used to be. I think I really need to get out and drive more to gain back some confidence on the road.

Today was the first time I have driven any distance, and I got the okay from my therapist as long as I didn't overdo it to my hand. But what I wasn't prepared for was how much effort it took to drive. Watching everything going on around me, seeing bikers coming at me, one way streets and railroad tracks. It was a bit overwhelming, and by the time we reached our destination, I couldn't wait to get out of the car. Something I used to love and would take any chance to do just doesn't hold the same appeal for me now. Too bad.

Before we reached the safety of the parking spot, I needed to turn around. I pulled into a driveway to do so, backed out, slowed down to allow a biker to pass, and then rammed right into the back of a parked car. On my first day driving in two years. It really shook me up. The lady who saw it happen told me there was no damage as I was getting out of the car to check it out. As I have had no accident in Belgium/Holland, I wasn't quite sure what the procedure was. When she cleared me to go, I asked if she was sure and when she gave me the go ahead, we continued on our way, my hands shaking fiercely.

After our high tea, which was lovely but not quite as spectacular as I had hoped, and definitely not good value for money, I went back to have another look at the car. It was an older Volvo with a rusted bumper and I don't think it did any damage. My car had one small knick on the bumper as well as some paint on the tow hitch. Nothing serious, but enough to scare me about my driving ability. I realise why I wasn't allowed to drive earlier. I know that driving isn't just the physical ability, but also the mental capability.

I need more driving practice before I take on another 'long' trip. My hand feels the workout, but my soul feels just a little more battered than either of the vehicles involved.

Case Closed

I read the email a second time, slowly taking it all in.
We regret to inform you that we don't think we can win your case, so we're closing the file.

It hit me like a wall of bricks. This is the second time they have closed my case, the second time they have decided they can't win. All I have left is to hire my own private lawyer, but that comes at a higher price...if they don't think they can win, why would another lawyer think s/he could? Why can't they win? I did nothing wrong, yet I remain handicapped for life. Is my handicap not enough evidence that something was faulty?

I had physical therapy and an appointment with the neurologist the same day. At physical therapy she told me my strength seems to have regressed. Was I in more pain than usual? Had I done something to tire my muscles out? At the neurologist I was given a final pain medication to try...two more months of medicating myself with all those side effects trying to make living be a pain free experience. Medicated. Not excatly my first choice, naturally, but I'll try it.

But, I was also given two other appointments. One with a revalidation specialist. Someone to help me learn to exist with my handicap. Someone with tools and tips and tricks for functioning as a handicapped individual. Secondly was with a pain management center. Here they take severe measures in helping you to live pain free. Such as, in my case, electro shock therapy to make my pain sensors unable to distinguish pain. My pain nerves will be completely blocked...no more pain...ever, for any reason...no more feeling whatsoever...is this really an option?

I can't say that I am feeling happy with everything that is happening with my hand. I'm not sure I want to try these new therapies, which sound quite permanent and what if I don't like what happens. I just don't know what to feel about it all. Happy to finally be given the option of 'something' that may help, but fearful about what the something is. My neurologist told me he believes I have reached the limit as what improvements I will see in my hand function. It has been a year since the accident...a year since my life was saved, but my hand was not. A year for it to improve...but also a full year...what more can I expect? We're moving onto pain management now, not functional improvement.

And as for the case, to help cover doctors bills and therapy and travel costs and psycologists and medical supplies and me BEING HANDICAPPED FOREVER AND EVER....that's in a constant state with a big red Case Closed stamp across the front page. And it makes me feel like I am unworthy of anything other then being this handicapped piece of a person, collecting bills and costs to further family financial crisis as I peel potatoes worrying about cutting off a finger and don't make stew knowing I can't cut the meat into chunks.

I know I should feel 'lucky', but right now I feel a flop of a mess.

A Medicated World

I am feeling old. It seems like the past year I have aged more than in any previous period of my life. I no longer feel like a spring chicken ready to go out and play, but more like an old hen pecking away trying to just get through the day.

This new medication I am taking to relieve the nerve pain I have in my hand and arm is working. The discomfort has subsided some, though not completely, but I am hesitant to say that it is working, as the side effects of this medication are numerous. If the nerve damage remains but the discomfort is relieved, BUT I easily sleep 16 hours/day (not an exaggeration), I fall into doors and walls because I have no balance, I can't focus because everything is fuzzy, and I have a near always stomachache, is the medication then working? Thse are the side effects of a medication to help relieve nerve damage.

I feel like I am in a never-ending spiral of health issues. I now need to return to physical therapy 3 days/week (that's nearly a part-time job in itself, by the time I get there, do therapy, and get home), take pills twice a day, and deal with the side effects knowing that it's not actually a cure for my hand, but a lifelong sentence to just control the discomfort that arises from nerve damage. I don't want a control, I want a cure. It feels unfair. I just want to be able to use my hand without pain. But that's too much to ask. A stupid sink and God's mysterious plan took that luxury away from me.

I am whining, yes. I have that right, as this medication I am on also has that side-effect. Being cranky and irritable and blowing up at those around you for no reason at all. Just ask my family members how much fun I am to be around. One day I can't sit still and get a single thing done as I flitter around trying to concentrate and then sit down and my eyes immediately close to block out the fuzz, but then my head falls as I head to slumberland. And the next day, having used so much energy the day before, I can't even get up or I fall over from a dizzy spell, if I can manage to wake up enough to get up at all.

It's no fun. And though I am going to hang on and finish this out for the five weeks until my next doctor visit, I cannot see this as being an option for the remainder of my life. It is doing it's job half-heartedly in controlling the nerve pain, but my life has become a misery. Nope, not for me. Onto the next option, whatever that may be. Or else I'll just live with it (it being the discomfort and pain), because I certainly can't live with it (it being the pain medication).

This accident and the handicap that has been left behind, my so-called hand and arm, have absolutely aged me this past year. I may be nearing the big 4-0, but lately it feels more like the 6-0. I can whine and cry and throw a fit, because this is my life, this is it. And it feels like a big huge lump of a disappointment. Life isn't so much fun.

Taking this medication and having a handicap has also opened my eyes to how Kaeden must feel. I wonder how his medication affects him. Does it cause him to feel dizzy, to feel off kilter, to have a fuzz filtering out the world? Does he hate it when people ask about his autism, or bring up the fact he has autism? Does he just wish it would all go away and he could just be? I have always wondered how he feels, as he isn't all that open to discussion about such things (he is unable to vocalize these kinds of issues). Being able to see life through a handicapped, drug-induced haze, I can only hope his life looks mosr positive than mine. I may be whining, but really, this is just NO FUN!

Life Isn't Fair

So, I've been a bit nervous the past few weeks. I have been awaiting my appointment with the neurologist after more tests in the hopes he would find the problem causing pain in my hand and arm and say: Yep, we can fix this!

Unfortunately, life is not quite as fair as we would all like it to be. Today I had my appointment. Today I wasn't told my problem could be healed. Today I feel a great disappointment in life.

Because of my situation and the intensity of my damages occurring during my accident, I have already been given all there is to give in making my arm more functional. The doctors in Czech Republic did everything right. And the fact I have as much use of my hand as I do is somewhat of a miracle. I look at these things realistically. Of course I am grateful for what I have, of course I am happy there were no mistakes made which left me handicapped. But, the fact remains that I am handicapped despite all the good that was achieved. And it stinks.

Instead of reoperating and likely creating additional problems, we're looking at pain management. Pain management to last a lifetime, which involves drugs that play with your body. The drug of choice is one developed originally for epiliepsy, but has been found to also help people manage nerve pain. It also boasts side effects of dizziness, concentration difficulties, sleepiness, weight gain, and stomach discomfort. The dizziness, concentration difficulties, and sleepiness are evident in the majority of users. So, it's a decision based on dealing with side effects versus pain.

How does one go from being a mom and wife able to do anything and having just a so-called normal life to being someone handicapped, living with pain, and unable to even catch a ball, cut toenails or tie shoes? How does life so flippantly change for the worse? In the blink of an eye, while on vacation, I have become another person. I have been granted the gift of life, but in exchange I have to compensate with a useless hand. It doesn't seem fair.

But what is fair? Is autism fair? Is living thousands of miles from family fair? Is being obese fair? No, life isn't fair. It's about taking what you've been dealt and doing the best you can and living as a good person through it all. It's about being grateful for having a chance to live your life, and making the most with the days you've been given. It's trying to remain patient when problems arise, and being proud when you get through without raising your voice. It's about wrapping those you love in tight hugs and showing them you love them, giving them respect regardless of whether you believe in their choices. And it's about hearing that though you may never have use of your hand again, you will still work hard to make the most use of it possible, and accept that though it may not be able to hold a glass or clasp a bra, it's still attached to your body and still moves. It's about dealing with the pain life throws our way.

So, though I haven't been given the hope I longed to hear, I have to look at this from a positive side. I can't dwell on the negative and let it overtake my life. I am what I am and I must move forward and be a success with what I have been given in life. I must go on, continue being a mom and a wife and be the best I can at those things which mean the most to me. Life isn't fair. But when a foul ball gets hit your way, you've still got to step up to the plate and do your best to catch it, hearing the cheers behind you that give you the courage to do what you gotta do.

Jet Lag ro Worry

I am not sure I ever knew what jet lag was before. This business is sincerely sucky. I am having the most difficult time ever getting back into the swing of things. I am completely and thoroughly exhausted. I have been to America and back so many times, yet this trip has done me in. I can't sleep at night and feel wholly worn out. I can't focus.

Maybe it comes from worrying about what's to come. I have appointments coming up to decide the future of my hand. All I want is for the tests to show it can be healed. I actually hope the nerve has attached to scar tissue or has stopped growing together due to scar tissue. I want the neurologist to announce: This is how it is and surgery will take care of it.

I'm tired of the pain and the feeling of balloons attached to my body. I don't like looking at the discolored appendages stuck on what used to be my fingers. I hate trying to grasp something and it falling through my fingers. Or actually getting a grasp on something, and pain shooting through as if I'm on fire. Or having to wear gloves with my fingers in one hole to try to keep them somewhat warm so as not to have the pain bring me to tears.

It's strange, how this disbaility I call my hand now looks somewhat normal, but feels worse by the day. I don't want my future to involve a hand that can't function, or pain that can't be relieved. I just want things to be back to normal. I want it to feel how I try to portray it to the rest of the world. As if everything is really okay.

I hope that becomes my reality very soon.

The Day Plays Out

I stood at the reception counter and paid my bill. There was nobody in front of me, noone waiting behind me. Just me and the receptionist in this normally very busy doctor's office. A doctor's office where differing doctors are present on differing days, space rented to spread their service area, bring more specialty services to our local area. It's a place I have become a frequent visitor recently. It almost feels natural to head there, and I no longer need to say my name when I check in. They know me. It feels kind of relaxing, in a situation which is far from stress-free.

So, I paid my bill, zipped my wallet into my backpack, and headed out the door slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I didn't know what my plan was. I had taken the bus to the doctor's office, knowing I could catch another bus home, or walk. With the snow falling down leaving my covered in wetness, a a bite whipping through the breeze, I looked at my clock. 30 minutes til the bus arrived. What could I do in 30 minutes time?

I headed to the dentist to get my paperwork stamped which the dentist forgot to stamp at our last visit. She came out with her mask and gloves on and I heard the whirring of her equipment in the background. My mind was blank, but I smiled and asked about her new twins, then asked her to take care of this little task. I was out the door in two minutes.

I went into the pharmacy and paid the bill I owed, not giving Kaeden enough money to pay for his meds last time. I still owed 5,96, and when I went in, the pharmacist immediately went in search of his tucked away copy of the bill. "Yeah, Kaeden's medicine costs have gone up," he told me. I thanked him for turning over his medication anyway in good faith.

25 minutes til the bus arrives I thought. 2 minutes to walk to the stop. 23 minutes to go. My mind was still swarming. I couldn't concentrate and just wanted to go home. I needed to go home.

I walked into the store and grabbed a pair of socks to send to my niece. Socks are easy, just stick them in an envelope, no extra postage. I like socks since moving to Europe. A perfect little Ï'm thinking of you"gift. I grabbed a couple cards on my way to the checkout, and noticed a big bag of lolly-pops which Jari has been begging me to buy. So, I did. I added my loot to my backpack. I no longer carry a purse, but my backpack is always on stand-by for those little purchases, a bottle of water, and a pack of cookies in case Jari is with me. He gets cranky when he's hungry.

I looked at the clock above the optician. 9:33. The time was wrong, the hour way off base, the minutes exactly on. I had 10 minutes to go. I decided I'd just have to wait longer for the bus. I didn't have enough time to do anything else, so I started the short walk in the falling snow. It was falling in huge flakes, wet but not sticking. My hair became wet and the droplets fell from my jacket. I stood at the busstop, feeling the cold, my mind still swarming, yet nearly blank.

The bus arrived and I put my ticket into the reader. It took off 80 cents for my 4 minute ride, and I considered for a moment I should have just walked home. There were 4 other passengers, all elderly, and they watched me as I passed and the bus jaunted on it's way. I took my seat, thinking it barely paid to sit down. Yet I did, and then glanced out the misty windows. We stopped to pick up another passenger. He climbed onto the bus using his cane, and as he limped towards a seat, my eyes misted over, just as the windows on the bus. He's handicapped, I thought. Life isn't easy for him. He can't walk.

And then my thoughts turned back to the doctor's office, to my visit to the neurologist and the nerve tests I had just had done. I'm handicapped too. My hand is not healing. I have nerve damage, and muscle damage, and instead of getting better, it's turned for the worse.

And the blur looking out the window was misted over, and I wasn't sure if it was from the warm air hitting the cold bus windows, or the tears suddenly streaking down my own cheeks.

Therapy

I did something bad today. I skipped therapy. I'm feeling guilty, and haven't even called my therapist to make up some excuse and reschedule. I feel like if I call him and tell him I just didn't feel like coming, it will make me feel at least honest about it, but disappoint him that I wasted his time and space for another client. Which I did do. After already rescheduling earlier in the week.

I had every intention of going. Jari had soccer practice and I had therapy and everything was all set. Then, as his coach picked him up, I just decided not to go. I stood out in the pouring rain for 5 minutes by my bike with my coat on before I just walked back in the house and said screw it. And now comes the guilt. My hand needs therapy to improve. I need to go to regain some movement, to get those muscles working. And after a therapy session, though I have some pain, usually my hand works a bit better, feels a bit looser. And by skipping, I just managed to put myself in a foul mood.

I'm getting frustrated with my hand. In the beginning I noticed so much progress. After being told my hand may never function again, I started being able to use it in little ways. My surgeon and my therapist are both amazed by the recovery I have made. But though I am happy I have some function, my hand is not what I wish it to be. I feel blessed to have been given back enough use to do some of the things I couldn't do immediately following the accident. But I still can't do everything I yearn to do. And at this point, I feel like I have reached the limit of my recovery. It just seems like this is where I have reached the top, and there's not much more good that's going to come. I'm frustrated, angry and sad. And I live in pain, though I try to hide it, and it's not as constant as it was. Still, I look at my stupid hand and feel the huge balloon-like fingers that look 1/2 normal but feel far from normal and I just want to cry. What did I ever do to make the world turn against me? A stupid question as I am alive, but one that comes regularly to my mind anyway.

Another issue is the nerve damage which seems to be healing improperly. They think my nerve may have attached to the scar tissue which means I will need either a painful series of shots to release it, which often doesn't help when scar tissue is involved, or another surgery. My hand turns blue just out of the blue, and if it gets even slightly cold, the pain is unbearable and I walk around in a fit of fury with tears streaming down my face until it warms again and I can manage. These things have me worried. Wondering if maybe, once all is said and done, I may get more use back, or if it will be another surgery, another recovery for nothing. Is this balloon-fingered disfigured mess of a hand my lifelong fate?

So, I skipped therapy today. Maybe it was more than just the rain the blocked me from going. Maybe the frustration of not having the improvement I need to make it feel worthwhile is what stopped me in my tracks. Maybe I need to get a relaity check and learn that life deals us blows, and we have the power to make the best of the situation...or sit doing nothing in pity. Today I chose the easy road...but it wasn't as easy as I expected it to be. I'm feeling guilty. I think it's time to make that call.

security of me and we

it's such a little something. that tiny place deep inside which gives you a simple promise that all is okay, that though there may be tiny setbacks along the way, the whole is still intact. that this is your life, do with it what you will, but through it all you'll come out on top.

my little promise has been taken away. my security has dissipated to a tiny trickle. my half full feels half empty. i'm not feeling assured that everything will be okay, that the setbacks aren't too big, that life will plow along and find me still standing strong.

and what is sad is that it isn't about me. as a mother, my whole includes the lives of my sons, as a wife, the life of my husband. there is a tiny piece of me who belongs only to me, but i am defined by my family. i no longer live as a single entity. i have this me of which can no longer be separated from we.

since my accident, there have been many questions filling me up inside. some are positive, some negative, but on the whole i feel grateful to be alive and feel an assurance that though the road is long, i will stand proud and tall in the end. though i may not once again be complete; my hand may never fully clasp a little hand in mine again, or pick up a grape to lift to my lips, or pull a load of fresh smelling clothes from the washer, that i am still standing and i will be okay.

but that same security i felt for my youngest son has now left me with a furrowed brow, my heart crumpled into a newspaper ball. he isn't the same child he was before my accident. he is fearful, he is nervous, he is obsessed. no longer is a paper laying on the table or a finished glass of milk a comfort of home. these are replaced with a need for extreme organisation, nothing standing in his view. curtains must be pulled tightly closed or he is uneasy. if my hand comes even close to resting on his body, he tenses up as his body shakes and a scream leaves his lips, nearly paralyzing. my hugs have stiffened him as he glances fearfully my way, trying to pull away before the effect of my love reaches through to him. where he used to love to play games, have tickle fights, win soccer matches against mommy, his newest fun when mama is in the house is sitting before the tv tuning out the fact that mama even exists. he no longer has a need for my attention, for my love, the security blanket i used to be. the ghosts that strip him of sleep cannot be fought away with my presence. my presence does not bring him comfort.

i try to pull him in. i play his favorite treftiball, and see glimpses of the little boy i knew and loved just 3 months ago. he smiles, he laughs, he runs. and then, in one instant as he catches a glimpse of my arm, or my hand happens to come too close as i try to kick, or for any other number of unknown reasons, he retreats...back to his little chair in front of the tv, the sound of my voice tuned out, the little area surrounding him completely free of clutter. he no longer looks at me, but through me.

on a car ride a few days ago, he asked me to sit in back with him. my heart did a quick flutter as i sat next to him, resting my 'good' hand on his lap. then, as i adjusted my position and my 'bad' hand came into his view, he screamed, tensed, and his demeanor towards me changed. he started hitting, being wild, couln't find the calm.

i am starting to feel really worried. the effect this accident has had on him is the fault of noone. yet it is guilt i feel, and each time i see the scar traveling across my wrist, all i see is the stripping of a bond between a mother and her son. with each painful movement i make during therapy, it is with the determination to gain back some trust from the little boy who once came to me for every little thing. it is with the hope that that promised place is restored, that we'll come through this still standing tall. because i am not just me, but i am we. and right now, the we feels broken. the we feels sad, fearful, uneasy and insecure. the me needs to find extra strength for the we.