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Twenty-three years ago I spent Christmas in the hospital...Shepherd Center, specifically. It was just over a month after my accident, & it was a very hard thing for me. I ADORED Christmas! I loved the decorating, the shopping, sending & receiving cards, the wrapping, the music, everything! And I was missing it. Worse yet was the fact that it was my very first Christmas spent away from home. Come to think of it, it's the ONLY Christmas I've EVER spent away from home. Oh, I've gone out visiting later in the day, but I've always awakened in my own bed...except for that one year.
At the time, I was very sad about being stuck in Shepherd for Christmas, but looking back I realize it really wasn't so bad. In fact, considering it was a hospital, everyone made it quite fun.
First, there was Richie Bear. At the time of my accident, I was working as a staffing assistant & customer service trainer at one of the Rich's department stores. Rich's was an Atlanta institution, especially at Christmas. Each year on Thanksgiving, the downtown store would have the lighting of the "Great Tree" on top of their 5-story building. They also had Santa & his reindeer & the Pink Pig - a pig-shaped train ride for kids. In 1986, Rich's introduced Richie Bear - a big, white, stuffed bear sold during the Christmas season as a charity fundraiser. As Customer Service Trainer, Richie became "my baby" for our branch, so to speak. It was my responsibility to train the sales staff on all things Richie. By the time of our Richie kick-off meeting, I was so tired of Richie that I, a (at the time) teddy bear collector, told the store manager that I never wanted to see another Richie again! So, naturally, I received FIVE of them as gifts while at Shepherd, the 1st being from the employees at my store, delivered by my aforementioned store manager. With a crooked grin on his face he said, "I know you never wanted to see him again, but we just HAD to." And those silly little bears DID cheer my room a bit.
Richie wasn't my room's only holiday touch. I received TONS of Christmas cards, which my nurses taped up all over my walls. I also got a few plants & balloons, & my stepmother's boss even sent me a decorated & lit table-top Christmas tree. They all helped make my room very Christmasy.
Throughout December we had a lot of visitors to Shepherd. They brought cookies, visited & went caroling down the halls.
On Christmas Eve, the nurses moved a cot into my room & my mom spent the night with me. That was wonderful. On Christmas morning, my sister's priest surprised us with a visit. He brought us Communion. That simple act touched my heart deeply & has always given Brother Joel a very special place in my heart.
Later, my entire (local) family came to spend Christmas together. Honestly, it was a bit surreal having my step-family & "real" family celebrating together. But there we all were - me, Mama, Daddy, my stepmother, her mother, my sister & her husband & 3 girls, my brother & his wife & stepdaughter, my 3 stepbrothers, 1 of their fiances, & my friend Mary & her boyfriend. We all gathered in the gym & they sat on the mat tables as we opened presents.
That year made such an impression on me that I even remember many of the gifts that I received. I remember thinking, "What can they possible give a quadriplegic besides sweats!?" Well, they did a pretty darn good job on creativity. My sister's family gave me a handmade teddy bear made by my sister out of an antique quilt that had been made by my mother's mother. My brother's family gave me a gold teddy bear charm for a necklace. My dad's mother - the families official "queen" of gift-giving - sent me a $50 savings bond (which I have never cashed). But the best things they all gave me were their love, their support & their presence. They will never know how much it meant to me to be surrounded by them on that difficult Christmas day.
Little did I know things were about to get even more difficult. As the day wore, on my mother started feeling bad, so my dad & stepmom followed or took her home, only to end up taking her to South Fulton Hospital. She spent a week there with heart problems, & ended up having triple-bypass surgery at Crawford Long Hospital in February . Then, on New Years Day, my dad came to visit & surprise me with a special lunch from Longhorn Steak House. He surprised me, all right, by having a heart attack as he walked through my door. Thankfully, it was mild AND, Mary & her boyfriend were with me AND we were in a hospital. (If you're gonna have a heart attack, have it in a hospital!) He spent that next week at Piedmont Hospital & St. Joseph's Hospital. Eventually, everyone turned out to be fine. We even started a family joke became that that my sister could now write a Fodor's Guide Book to Atlanta hospitals, having eaten & slept in so many!
Yes, that Christmas was a challenge, but it had what mattered most - family. Whether by blood or by love, family is what matters most at Christmas. So if you don't have a family, why not drop by your local hospital & "adopt" one. I assure you, they will be blessed, & so will you!
I wish each of you a very Merry Christmas filled with joy & love.
Showing posts with label hospitals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hospitals. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Part 4 - Tests, Test & More Tests
First, thank you for giving me the time I needed to not look back. That time & the warm sunshine we've been having (68 degrees F in February!) have brought me to where I can continue writing about my journey.
When I left off in Part 3, I was describing my time spent in the Special Care Unit at Shepherd Center. I spent about a week & a half in the Unit while my body was being stabilized for surgery. During that time, I underwent several tests - all of the usual pre-surgery things including blood work, x-rays, CAT scans & a myelogram. Some of these were no big deal, but others....
The Blood Work
As I said earlier, I was injured in 1986. This was at the height of the AIDS scare in the USA. Only a year previous, actor Rock Hudson had died from AIDS & the young hemophiliac, Ryan White had been ban from school for having the disease because people believed that his classmates could catch it through casual contact. It was a crazy time of unknowing, uncertainty & fear. Because of this, my family wanted to donate blood specifically for my use during surgery. I know that my father, a very regular blood donor, & my sister did donate blood (& perhaps others, as well). They were not allowed to donate for my direct use, however, because the Red Cross had, also a year earlier, begun HIV screening of all blood. The medical staff assured us that the blood I received would be safe, which it obviously was.
During this whole blood testing/donating thing, my blood typing had to be done to insure my receiving the right blood. When my results came back, my father just KNEW they were wrong & made them retest it 3 times! You see, my father was O Positive, & he was certain that I, therefore, must also be O Positive. Problem was, my results were A Positive. He couldn't for the life of him believe that my results were accurate - not until my sister piped in that she, too, had A Positive. It seems that it never occurred to my dad that maybe, just maybe, my MOM had something to do with our genetics! Boy, for a girl like me who actually spent several years thinking I was adopted because I couldn't find many early baby pictures of myself, this was not funny. Then I remembered that my dad, who could do almost everything well, had dropped out of pre-med in favor of economics in college because he had flunked biology! It was one of those rare "You were wro-ong!" moments that kids long for.
The CAT (CT) Scan
When I was first injured, my mom brought a teddy bear of mine from home to "keep me company". His name was Baby Bear, as in Goldilocks & the Three Bears. He was about a foot long & dressed in his PJs & I slept with him at home. Yes, I was 23 & still slept with a stuffed animal. Besides, Baby Bear wasn't just a stuffed animal, he was my friend. :-) Anyway, I think she brought him because it was all she could think to do to comfort me. There was her baby, broken, hurting & dealing with a life-changing trauma & she couldn't fix it. She couldn't "kiss it & make it better". All she could do was try to give me comfort, so she brought Baby Bear. What a terrible feeling for a mother (or father)!
Well, Baby Bear became quite a symbol for me. He started a gift trend that would prove epic, but more on that in another post. He also became very popular among the medical staff. They talked to him, always placed him beside me after my every-two-hour turns & even sent him with me for my CT scan. That's right! Baby Bear lay on my chest while I was wheeled into the big CT tube for imaging. I never saw those images & always wondered if his insides showed up because I always knew his heart must be extremely large for his little body.
The Myelogram
In a word, this test SUCKED!!! Please forgive my terminology, but to say it was "horrible" or "very unpleasant", wouldn't come anywhere near explaining how awful it was! For years, I thought it was an angeogram &, who knows, maybe it was. I'm calling it a myelogram because in my Googling on both, the myelogram description fits what they did to me. I may not have inherited my father’s blood type, but I definitely inherited his Biology ability (only I squeaked by with a D), so I could be wrong. All I know is that it HURT!
What ever the test was, let's just say it's never a good sign when you find your doctor/surgeon waiting to "lend a hand" with the "simple" procedure. (Thanks to Google, I now know why...& I'm glad I didn't back then.) In order to perform the test, the traction I was wearing had to be disconnected. Those tongs & traction were literally the only thing holding my head on straight & preventing further injury. It was Dr. Apple's (not the same Dr. Apple from Lifeflight) job to hold my head & neck still. (I guess the Orthopedic Surgeon & Chief of Staff is the only one paid enough for that job. One slip & I could have ended up on a ventilator or worse.) But that fear wasn't the worst of it.
To perform the test, a contract dye had to be inserted into my spine before x-rays could be taken. Here's the thing. Since I'm paralyzed from bout 3" below my shoulders & down, I have little or no feeling in about 95% of my body. With no feeling, needles mean nothing to me...no pain, no fear...UNLESS someone wants to stick a needle in the other 5%, which is exactly what they wanted to do. They had to insert a needle into my neck, while I was lying on my back, in order to get the dye to my spine. This was a "direct puncture" procedure. Dr. Apple gave me the usually song-and-dance of, "This may sting a little," but that was an extreme understatement. As I said earlier, it didn't sting, it HURT!!! As soon as they punctured my neck on the right, the left side burned like touching a hot coal. If you've every turned your head suddenly & felt a burn inside your neck, take that feeling & ramp it up about 1000 times & you might be getting close. Very unpleasant indeed.
Fortunately, this test is rarely used today because it has been replaced with MRIs. I've never had an MRI because they weren't used in 1986. In fact, my sister brought the January or February issue of National Geographic to Shepherd to show me because the cover story was about MRIs, including the cover photo of a spinal cord MRI. It was extremely cool.
Well, now that I have grossed out the squeamish among you & reminded myself why I hate going to the doctor, I’ll sign off. More soon. Thanks for reading & commenting!
When I left off in Part 3, I was describing my time spent in the Special Care Unit at Shepherd Center. I spent about a week & a half in the Unit while my body was being stabilized for surgery. During that time, I underwent several tests - all of the usual pre-surgery things including blood work, x-rays, CAT scans & a myelogram. Some of these were no big deal, but others....
The Blood Work
As I said earlier, I was injured in 1986. This was at the height of the AIDS scare in the USA. Only a year previous, actor Rock Hudson had died from AIDS & the young hemophiliac, Ryan White had been ban from school for having the disease because people believed that his classmates could catch it through casual contact. It was a crazy time of unknowing, uncertainty & fear. Because of this, my family wanted to donate blood specifically for my use during surgery. I know that my father, a very regular blood donor, & my sister did donate blood (& perhaps others, as well). They were not allowed to donate for my direct use, however, because the Red Cross had, also a year earlier, begun HIV screening of all blood. The medical staff assured us that the blood I received would be safe, which it obviously was.
During this whole blood testing/donating thing, my blood typing had to be done to insure my receiving the right blood. When my results came back, my father just KNEW they were wrong & made them retest it 3 times! You see, my father was O Positive, & he was certain that I, therefore, must also be O Positive. Problem was, my results were A Positive. He couldn't for the life of him believe that my results were accurate - not until my sister piped in that she, too, had A Positive. It seems that it never occurred to my dad that maybe, just maybe, my MOM had something to do with our genetics! Boy, for a girl like me who actually spent several years thinking I was adopted because I couldn't find many early baby pictures of myself, this was not funny. Then I remembered that my dad, who could do almost everything well, had dropped out of pre-med in favor of economics in college because he had flunked biology! It was one of those rare "You were wro-ong!" moments that kids long for.
The CAT (CT) Scan
When I was first injured, my mom brought a teddy bear of mine from home to "keep me company". His name was Baby Bear, as in Goldilocks & the Three Bears. He was about a foot long & dressed in his PJs & I slept with him at home. Yes, I was 23 & still slept with a stuffed animal. Besides, Baby Bear wasn't just a stuffed animal, he was my friend. :-) Anyway, I think she brought him because it was all she could think to do to comfort me. There was her baby, broken, hurting & dealing with a life-changing trauma & she couldn't fix it. She couldn't "kiss it & make it better". All she could do was try to give me comfort, so she brought Baby Bear. What a terrible feeling for a mother (or father)!
Well, Baby Bear became quite a symbol for me. He started a gift trend that would prove epic, but more on that in another post. He also became very popular among the medical staff. They talked to him, always placed him beside me after my every-two-hour turns & even sent him with me for my CT scan. That's right! Baby Bear lay on my chest while I was wheeled into the big CT tube for imaging. I never saw those images & always wondered if his insides showed up because I always knew his heart must be extremely large for his little body.
The Myelogram
In a word, this test SUCKED!!! Please forgive my terminology, but to say it was "horrible" or "very unpleasant", wouldn't come anywhere near explaining how awful it was! For years, I thought it was an angeogram &, who knows, maybe it was. I'm calling it a myelogram because in my Googling on both, the myelogram description fits what they did to me. I may not have inherited my father’s blood type, but I definitely inherited his Biology ability (only I squeaked by with a D), so I could be wrong. All I know is that it HURT!
What ever the test was, let's just say it's never a good sign when you find your doctor/surgeon waiting to "lend a hand" with the "simple" procedure. (Thanks to Google, I now know why...& I'm glad I didn't back then.) In order to perform the test, the traction I was wearing had to be disconnected. Those tongs & traction were literally the only thing holding my head on straight & preventing further injury. It was Dr. Apple's (not the same Dr. Apple from Lifeflight) job to hold my head & neck still. (I guess the Orthopedic Surgeon & Chief of Staff is the only one paid enough for that job. One slip & I could have ended up on a ventilator or worse.) But that fear wasn't the worst of it.
To perform the test, a contract dye had to be inserted into my spine before x-rays could be taken. Here's the thing. Since I'm paralyzed from bout 3" below my shoulders & down, I have little or no feeling in about 95% of my body. With no feeling, needles mean nothing to me...no pain, no fear...UNLESS someone wants to stick a needle in the other 5%, which is exactly what they wanted to do. They had to insert a needle into my neck, while I was lying on my back, in order to get the dye to my spine. This was a "direct puncture" procedure. Dr. Apple gave me the usually song-and-dance of, "This may sting a little," but that was an extreme understatement. As I said earlier, it didn't sting, it HURT!!! As soon as they punctured my neck on the right, the left side burned like touching a hot coal. If you've every turned your head suddenly & felt a burn inside your neck, take that feeling & ramp it up about 1000 times & you might be getting close. Very unpleasant indeed.
Fortunately, this test is rarely used today because it has been replaced with MRIs. I've never had an MRI because they weren't used in 1986. In fact, my sister brought the January or February issue of National Geographic to Shepherd to show me because the cover story was about MRIs, including the cover photo of a spinal cord MRI. It was extremely cool.
Well, now that I have grossed out the squeamish among you & reminded myself why I hate going to the doctor, I’ll sign off. More soon. Thanks for reading & commenting!
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