In the Hospital

So there I was in Baylor Memorial hospital in Dallas Texas after falling and breaking my neck. I'd just gotten the news from the doctor that I would be totally paralyzed for the rest of my life. It was as if a life sentence had been passed down. I wished that I were dead.

I couldn't spend the rest of my life lying in a hospital bed. For the first time in my life, I wanted to commit suicide. But I was paralyzed, how could I do myself in? It was a mind-racking Catch-22.

A nurse came in to get information from me: name, birthday, and insurance information, etc. I gave it to her. I was glad that I had health insurance.

A few minutes go by, and then a male nurse comes in and explains to me that since I can't control my bladder on my own that a catheter needed to be inserted up to my penis. Oh Jesus, I just knew that was going to hurt. I couldn't feel anything below my shoulders, but my penis, it was still going to hurt; of that, I was sure, but I didn't feel a thing. I was thankful for that.

Then I was put into tong traction and placed on Stryker frame,
which allowed me to be turned facing down periodically to keep the pressure of my backside and prevent pressure sores.

It was hell being in the inverted position with my face facing the floor. My head had to be supported in a sling, which proved to be quite uncomfortable. I was certain that something more comfortable could be devised, and I was angry that someone had not already done it.

My neck hurt quite a bit, and being a baby when it comes to pain I asked for something. The nurses explained to me that the doctors didn't want any pain masking drugs in my system so that if any additional pain occurred I can tell them about it. I began to have a serious dislike of doctors right then and there.

It must've been around 9 p.m. that I had my first visitor, my aunt Eunice, James’s mother. It didn't take more than a minute or two before she started crying. I felt ashamed. I didn't want to be seen like this, and I certainly didn't want to cause anyone any grief. I'd caused too much grief in my family already. I didn't want to cause any more. Couldn't I do anything right?

The shame I felt being paralyzed, it was bad. I felt subhuman. I felt disfigured, something to be pitied. I didn't need the weight of anyone's pity on my mind.

(More to come in next post)

This post created with Dragon NaturallySpeaking