I had been unemployed for three months. For the three months I took up knitting for something to do but could do that only when I was not drinking. I ended up only knitting about three inches on the side of a sweater.
I would wake up at about nine o'clock and drink the remainder of the alcohol I had from the day before, and then sleep to late afternoon. I then would go out, get some fast food and alcohol for the evening. After dinner I would go to either one of my neighbors who would drink with me until late, and then I would stumble home and pass out, another day making it through. If I had a calendar and crossed off day after day that I did this I might have realized how my life was passing by, but only by surviving the time that a day measures. That is what my life had become; making it through each day. What worth in life comes from daily survival from self induced complications? The answer to that escaped me because I did not ask it. I kept drinking so that I did not have to because I was fearful of what the answer would command.
Then one day I woke up sick. It was not a cold with congestion and coughing, nor was it a gastrointestinal illness with nausea and diarrhea. Every cell in my body screamed with pain. My temperature was up I'm sure as I sweated profusely. My body shivered. It hurt to move. Every joint jolted with pain if I tried to change position. I had to weigh the result of pain from movement with the discomfort of staying in the same position for long periods of time when I decided if I would move or not.
I did not eat or drink anything. I was not hungry and even if I was I could not get up to get it. Even so, by body continued to function and provided the need to go to the bathroom to void. It took a lot of courage to move to get up and go to,the washroom. When I did my body more than shivered, it almost convulsed with chills.
I was thankful for sleep but was wakened by the need to go to the washroom. Again and again I mustered the courage to move, get up and get to the washroom, each time barely making it due to the pain with removing my clothes. After some time passed, it did not matter if I could get up. I lost control of my bladder and that caused the problem with clean up. I grabbed newspapers close by and placed them under my hips hoping that using and removing the paper when soiled would take care of that problem. Whether the newspaper solved my new experience with inconvenience or not I did not care, the pain I was sufferring was more prominent.
I shivered and shook for quite some time. I had lost all awareness of time but once the fever broke and the shaking stopped and I reoriented myself, I determined that I was sick for three weeks. Then something very unusual and concerning happened. I could not stand up or get up from my floor cushion. Every time I would try to stand up, my legs crumpled from beneath me.
Saturday 18 July 2015
Thursday 16 July 2015
My Physical Deterioration
I battle hoarding, depression and alcoholism every day. Each of these conditions merit explanation on their own. For now I will focus on my physical deterioration due to the hoard.
I was laying on the floor on my cushion, the remains of my swivel chair, when I noticed I could not feel my right toe. I was sober at the time so it was not because of alcohol induced altered sensation. Because I am a medical professional, I know how to do sensory testing and so I did. I wiggled my toe but could not feel the movement. I moved my toe with my hand and I could not feel either my toe moving or the touch of my hand. I then got a sharp needle and a knitting needle and poked my toe with each, but again no feeling. I thought that lack of sensation in my toe was mysterious, but I had no concern over a toe while at the present, my physician and I was monitoring a more seriousphysical condition.
I was very overweight due intake of drinking and a fast food diet. As a result my blood pressure dangerously elevated . Three times I was hospitalized and treated until my blood pressure came down. I was on medication to treat the hypertension. I was embaressed on one occasion when a nurse rubbed an area on my arm to prepare for insertion of an interveneous and the swab was black from dirt on my skin. "Oh my!" she said. I quickly replied that I had two dogs. She assured me that she understood because she had dogs too but I knew that she knew that I neglected my hygiene. Remember I had no access to water to my tub and bathing was difficult. Sometimes when I was in the hospital I would stuff body wipes in my purse and used them at home until the supply ran out.
Every time I was hospitalized for high blood pressure I woud get encouragement to stop drinking. I never admitted to drinking but blood tests reveal the damage of excessive alcohol. The shape of the hemoglobin in the blood which delivers oxygen to the body become altered and cannot do their
job. The blood also shows a deficiency in vitamins and electrolytes resulting in malnutrition and
impairment of any body organ that requires electrolyes. So the physicians knew I drank excessively even though I told them I didn't drink more than a couple of drinks a week.
I hated my obesity. I have a short build so weight piles on the only places that expands outwards making me very round. I am well endowed and my large breasts rested on my bloated stomach. When I put on weight my chin bloats up like a frog and my belly expands as though I was pregnant. I had a well earned beer belly, and muffin top. When I went out everyone greeted me by looking into my eyes, and then theirs would shift down to the belly. Even though I hated my weight gain, I did not stop to think that my drinking and fast food was the cause. Drinking provided numbness and I had no choice to eat fast food because I had no fridge or stove.
I also sufferred with stomach reflux and the alcohol didn't help. Often at night I would wake up with stomach acid in my throat. On one occasion that this occurred I had a whispered raspy voice because the acid burned my vocal cords. This condition was dangerous because I was at risk of aspiration of stomach acid into my lungs.
Every time I went to the doctor or was in the hospital to treat my hypertension I mentioned that my toe had no feeling and it was always brushed off by them with a shrug and a reminder to stop drinking. My next blog will describe further deterioration and spread of altered sensation.
I was laying on the floor on my cushion, the remains of my swivel chair, when I noticed I could not feel my right toe. I was sober at the time so it was not because of alcohol induced altered sensation. Because I am a medical professional, I know how to do sensory testing and so I did. I wiggled my toe but could not feel the movement. I moved my toe with my hand and I could not feel either my toe moving or the touch of my hand. I then got a sharp needle and a knitting needle and poked my toe with each, but again no feeling. I thought that lack of sensation in my toe was mysterious, but I had no concern over a toe while at the present, my physician and I was monitoring a more seriousphysical condition.
I was very overweight due intake of drinking and a fast food diet. As a result my blood pressure dangerously elevated . Three times I was hospitalized and treated until my blood pressure came down. I was on medication to treat the hypertension. I was embaressed on one occasion when a nurse rubbed an area on my arm to prepare for insertion of an interveneous and the swab was black from dirt on my skin. "Oh my!" she said. I quickly replied that I had two dogs. She assured me that she understood because she had dogs too but I knew that she knew that I neglected my hygiene. Remember I had no access to water to my tub and bathing was difficult. Sometimes when I was in the hospital I would stuff body wipes in my purse and used them at home until the supply ran out.
Every time I was hospitalized for high blood pressure I woud get encouragement to stop drinking. I never admitted to drinking but blood tests reveal the damage of excessive alcohol. The shape of the hemoglobin in the blood which delivers oxygen to the body become altered and cannot do their
job. The blood also shows a deficiency in vitamins and electrolytes resulting in malnutrition and
impairment of any body organ that requires electrolyes. So the physicians knew I drank excessively even though I told them I didn't drink more than a couple of drinks a week.
I hated my obesity. I have a short build so weight piles on the only places that expands outwards making me very round. I am well endowed and my large breasts rested on my bloated stomach. When I put on weight my chin bloats up like a frog and my belly expands as though I was pregnant. I had a well earned beer belly, and muffin top. When I went out everyone greeted me by looking into my eyes, and then theirs would shift down to the belly. Even though I hated my weight gain, I did not stop to think that my drinking and fast food was the cause. Drinking provided numbness and I had no choice to eat fast food because I had no fridge or stove.
I also sufferred with stomach reflux and the alcohol didn't help. Often at night I would wake up with stomach acid in my throat. On one occasion that this occurred I had a whispered raspy voice because the acid burned my vocal cords. This condition was dangerous because I was at risk of aspiration of stomach acid into my lungs.
Every time I went to the doctor or was in the hospital to treat my hypertension I mentioned that my toe had no feeling and it was always brushed off by them with a shrug and a reminder to stop drinking. My next blog will describe further deterioration and spread of altered sensation.
Saturday 11 July 2015
My Living Quarter
The last room room off the hallway was the living room. It was where I spent all of my time. There was not much accessible space in that room, not because of hoard and piles of items, but because of new furniture. The haul guys that took my fridge and stove also took my old living room furniture. I had my couch and love seat removed because I heard mice in them. My cat reaffirmed this as she would sit and cock her head while looking at the couch for long periods of time. I cleared out the living room by shuffling all the items into the other rooms in the house and closed the door so it was presentable had room for the delivery of my new furnature.
My brand new furniture was delivered; a new couch and love seat that looked like it was from the 50's with curved arm rests, a swivel rocking chair and a three piece coffee table set as well as a dining room table with a matching side board. It was placed along the long walls of the living room. This resulted in stacks of large packaged boxes that left a thin walkway to the television. The only piece of furniture I set up was the swivel rocking chair which I placed in a remaining space just inside the doorway fron the hall. where I could see the television.
The new furniture remained packaged and unmoved for a couple of years. I managed to set up my new computer that I bought from benefits I received from my last job on a portable table beside my swivel rocking chair. Gradually, the floor space that was not covered by the new furniture was filled up with garbage bags filled with fast food packaging.
My tv was in disrepair and I could not fix it and of course I would not let anyone in to fix it. Because watching TV was my only activity while I was at home, I drank more to numb the condition of my home. Alcohol was the easiest way of surviving in it.
Over time the swivel rocking chair broke down. The metal framework split at the soldered joints
which left the one piece upholstered seat and back cushion flat on the floor. It was uncomfortable due to the metal frame pieces which remained under the cushion but I learned where the soft spots were.
Just before I was removed from my house by my sisters and taken to the hospital due to my physical condition, I layed on that cushion on the floor watching mice travel their pathways through the living room. They would crawl to the top of the television antenna, run up the curtains to sit on the curtain
rods, run through the maze spaces between the packaged furnature and in the garbage bags. One day I played dare devel with one. It was in a box and would duck into the box every time I looked at it. It's face looked very cute I thought.
My physical condition was such that I had diffulcty rising to stand from the cushion on the floor and
once I was up I couldn't walk. To get to the bathroom I had to roll on the floor and crawl to the bathroom. Often I could not control my bladder and I voided on the cushion. I took news paper and layed it on the cushion to protect it from my bladder accidents.
Now that I have completed the description of the condition of my house, I want to describe in the next blog, the physical condition of my body and the disabilities I sufferred as a result.
My brand new furniture was delivered; a new couch and love seat that looked like it was from the 50's with curved arm rests, a swivel rocking chair and a three piece coffee table set as well as a dining room table with a matching side board. It was placed along the long walls of the living room. This resulted in stacks of large packaged boxes that left a thin walkway to the television. The only piece of furniture I set up was the swivel rocking chair which I placed in a remaining space just inside the doorway fron the hall. where I could see the television.
The new furniture remained packaged and unmoved for a couple of years. I managed to set up my new computer that I bought from benefits I received from my last job on a portable table beside my swivel rocking chair. Gradually, the floor space that was not covered by the new furniture was filled up with garbage bags filled with fast food packaging.
My tv was in disrepair and I could not fix it and of course I would not let anyone in to fix it. Because watching TV was my only activity while I was at home, I drank more to numb the condition of my home. Alcohol was the easiest way of surviving in it.
Over time the swivel rocking chair broke down. The metal framework split at the soldered joints
which left the one piece upholstered seat and back cushion flat on the floor. It was uncomfortable due to the metal frame pieces which remained under the cushion but I learned where the soft spots were.
Just before I was removed from my house by my sisters and taken to the hospital due to my physical condition, I layed on that cushion on the floor watching mice travel their pathways through the living room. They would crawl to the top of the television antenna, run up the curtains to sit on the curtain
rods, run through the maze spaces between the packaged furnature and in the garbage bags. One day I played dare devel with one. It was in a box and would duck into the box every time I looked at it. It's face looked very cute I thought.
My physical condition was such that I had diffulcty rising to stand from the cushion on the floor and
once I was up I couldn't walk. To get to the bathroom I had to roll on the floor and crawl to the bathroom. Often I could not control my bladder and I voided on the cushion. I took news paper and layed it on the cushion to protect it from my bladder accidents.
Now that I have completed the description of the condition of my house, I want to describe in the next blog, the physical condition of my body and the disabilities I sufferred as a result.
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