Two awakenings that shocked me silly:
An unfamiliar male voice said. “Come on wake up. You don’t know what happened to you.”
So I opened my eyes and asked what did happen to me. He answered that I had had a brain bleed and had required brain surgery. I decided that someone had a mean sense of humor and closed my eyes so I could ignore him. I had already had a brain bleed. It wouldn’t be fair if I had another one. I decided that the only person in my family that wouldn’t think that sick joke wasn’t funny was my granddaughter and I remember thinking that I had to ask her before I would believe some man that I didn’t even know. I don’t know how long I waited, but my son says that my granddaughter asked why I kept asking everyone if I had really had an aneurysm. Apparently she had no inkling that I was searching for her voice.
THEN I did hear her voice and I asked her the question. “Did I really have brain surgery? She answered, “Yes!”
I knew then that I really had had a second one and had required surgery. But when she told me it was February I was really shocked. How did it get to be February? That was the beginning of my coming back to reality.
The next one was after I had been moved to the rehabilitation center. I had gotten used to the 20ish, over zealous, peppy Physical Therapists that had never been taught anything about polio (they were driving me crazy, that story later), but I had NOT gotten used to the Certified Nursing Assistants that wouldn’t answer my call for the bed pan. Sometimes it would take them an hour to answer. In the meantime I was in serious need. I often wondered if they would get to me sooner if I deliberately wet the bed, but thenI would considered what they would report to the doctor. and changed my mind. So I would lay there and suffer until they decided that maybe I did need some help. I later decided it must have been their mind set. They were used to patients in a coma. I made sense AND noise, they didn’t really know how to respond to me.
One morning, 2 a.m., I woke up and needed to go to the bathroom. I rang, but as usual, no one responded. I was suffering horribly when my eye caught the glint of the wheelchair that was sitting near my bed. I scooted to the foot of the bed, reached over and grabbed the handle of the chair, pulled it up to my bed, got in it and got myself to the toilet at the other end of my room. While I was sitting there I heard a voice yell, “Where are you?”
“Are you looking for me?”
“Yes, where are you?”
“”In the bathroom!”
A lovely black face appeared in the doorway and said, “Are you from that bed by the door?”
“How did you get in here?”
“I got in the wheelchair and wheeled myself in here!”
“Are you the one that had the oxygen on?”
“Are you Miss Sandra?”
“Boy has someone been PRAYING FOR YOU!!!!” and as she said that she turned around and left. So I put myself back to bed confused, but very happy. I thought that I had turned a corner of some sort. Maybe the Physical Therapists would back off a bit now and believe that I could do for myself once-in-awhile.
But as I was falling asleep I pondered what she said and I thanked God for listening to the prayers that had been sent him regarding my welfare. And so I want to thank each and every one of you for taking my name and condition and submitting it to whatever God you worship. You will never know how much my family thanks you. But after telling them this particular story they have filled me with their stories of the love and prayers that they were told were being sent in my name. Thank you so very much .... as the CRN said, “Boy was someone been PRAYING FOR ME.
I saw the CNA once or twice after that, but she never spoke to me again.
But I did get a visit from one of the male Physical Therapists. He came to yell at me for going to the bathroom on my own. “That’s not allowed,” he said over and over. And the more I told him I had been in a wheelchair for 10+ years the more he didn’t listen me. So when he left I would sneak to the bathroom. I never let anyone see me do that again. After all, the doctor had said I could do it, but apparently hadn’t told the PT’s. They said that I needed to be taught HOW to get on the toilet, by them, before I would be allowed to do it again. They never did come and try to teach me. Maybe it finally dawned to them that I knew what I was doing. I’ll never know .... they all came in and cried when they found out I was going home, but not one of them mentioned the toilet issue. They had stopped my leaving on two other occasions and they had tried to stop this one. I never fully understood what most of them were crying about. Was it because they liked me, or because I had finally gotten free of their dictates. I sound like I didn’t like them. I did. They were a darling group of young people, they just NEVER listened to me. “I can do that. I’ve been in a wheelchair for 10+ years.” Guess they hadn’t learned that phrase in the classroom.
My love to all of you .................. THANK YOU FOR YOURS
Or more recently known as 'Miss Sandra'
I found this tag on my desk top today. John says he doesn't know where it came from, but I do. It came from Roxy of XXRoxy MamaXX fame. Isn't it delightful. I love it. Thank you Roxy. What a nice gift.