On My Way to the Hospital

Following my three week battle with a virus, I was malnourished, dehydrated and weak. I had difficulty getting up from my cushion bed on the floor. As a rehabilitation medical professional, I had taught many seniors how to get up from a fall. I now needed that knowledge. I rolled onto the floor face down and made it to resting on my hands and knees. I then raised up to a kneeling position.  Still kneeling, I raised my right knee to plant my that foot on the floor.   Then with a lot of difficulty, I pushed on the raised knee with both arms shifting my weight  over over my knee while planting my left foot on the floor in a crouching position. I then walked my arms up my thighs to my hips and I had made it. I was standing, but barely. I describe in detail how I got up because it describes the effort required to do so. I managed to walk to the kitchen, and supporting myself by leaning on the counter I drank water and devoured crackers I found in the kitchen cabinet. I made sure the crackers were sealed with no sign of mice munching.

After I rested for a bit I gained strength and it was time to go out for food. I discovered however that I  still required the same method of getting up from my floor cushion bed.   I was getting good at this method of raising. On my way to my car, I fell attempting the stairs at the back door. Not being injured, I got up by walking my arms up the stairs and was on my way to the fast food restaurant.

I found it mysterious that I could walk but could not manage stairs. I would stare at the stairs but be paralyzed on how to climb or descend them.  Attempting stairs from then on was accomplished on my hands and knees.

As the days went by, even though I became stronger, I still needed my adapted method of raising from my cushion bed and managed stairs on my hands and knees. My incontenence remained
however and I went to the medical store and got some pads for my bed. I was getting out but.
 strangely , I had no desire to go to the liquor store. I had no desire at that point to drink.

I drive a standard. I always have. Driving a standard is real driving and I feel I  have control of the car.  During this time, following my viral illness, I was driving to a fast food restaurant when I realized I could not find the gas or break peddles, or the clutch with my feet. Horrified I pulled over and needed to visually orientate my feet to the peddles. I had to consciously manage the peddles
from then on.

Once at the restaurant, I got out of my car and managed to walk to the door. I was faced with a step in front of the door without a railing. I stared at that step with fear. A man in the restaurant was looking
at me through the window. "I can't just stand here" I thought so with much courage I attemped to
ascend that step. I was not successful and crumpled on the cement step.  At the time I had collapsed on the restaurant  step, a woman was exiting and assisted me on my feet. I then made it to the counter and ordered my food. Then leaving the restaurant I again was faced with that stair. I had no choice
but to attemp to descend it and did so. Again I collapsed. The man wwho had been watching me came out and helped me up while saying to me "you need to go to the hospital".

Not much time passed when I discovered that not only I had difficulty getting up, and could not manage stairs, but I could not walk.  Following my raising to standing routine I took a step and
fell to the floor. I got up again and when attempting to take a step I fell. Not to be defeated I got up again. I wanted to take a step but was afraid to fall again. A wall was two steps away,  and I thought if I could take a leaping plunge to the wall I could use it brace myself. Getting to the wall was good in theory, but I fell again. I then crawled to the wall and used it to  raised my self to standing.

 As long as I had something to brace myself on I could walk. So, while wall walking was a success in my house I could not get anywhere where there was nothing to brace myself on or grab on to.  I went
back to the medical supply store and got a walker. My theory was that I just needed to get stronger and the walker would assist me.

One evening I went to visit my next door neighbor as I did many times.  My friend John  had become
a very good friend. It was the kind of friendship that I could be totally transparent. I got to his
house using my walker but was faced with his five steps leading to the front door. I hollered for him
to come out and help me with the steps. He heard me hollering for him and he came out and assisted me up the stairs.  We had a few drinks and then I needed to use his washroom. I could get up from the couch from a sitting position.  On my way to the washroom I fell. John helped me up.  After I used thewashroomhe told me I needed to go home because he was tired. This was unusual as we often visited late and sometimes he went to bed and let me stay and watch his television on my own just locking the door when I left.

I got back home and went to bed on my floor cushion and let the drunk put me to sleep. It was a short sleep however because I woke up needing to use the washroom. Because of my incontenence I went
 to bed with no bottom clothing so I would not soil them and it was faster.  By this time with
the state of my  disability with walking, I just crawled to the bathroom from my floor cushion and once reaching  the toilet, I used it to raise myself to sit on it.

The next morning I was woken up very early by my sister. "I'm taking you to  the hospital"  she said.
I agreed without thinking about how how I felt about it.  "Okay" I said, " I just have to pee first". As I crawled on my hands and knees to the washroom I was mindful of the view my sister had of my naked behind. She however was focused with shock with the condition of my house. She had not
been inside my house for years. "What prompted you to come " I asked her.  " John called me last night and told me you needed to go to the hospital" was her reply.

She loaded me into her  SUV and off we went to the emergency department at the nearest hospital.
My other sister met us there.   Little did I know that I would  never live in my house another day and that I would be in the hospital for six months.

Derailed

 I had been working on my next blog which  further describes my physical deterioration as a continuation from my last blog but I got derailed with negative thoughts. I was sick last week for a couple of days and during that time I ran out of meds, so I went without my anti depression, anxiety and nerve damage pain control medication. As a result my emotional thoughts superceded my
intellectual  ones.

I went down a thought path where I felt unconfident about myself and the purpose of this blog and wether I should be doing it at all. I thought about my friends who one by one are retiring and doing things that I have on my bucket list which includes travelling and owning a house. I pay outrageous rent a month just to remain here because I have two dogs and there is no other rental accommodation that will accept two dogs. Besides, they have already wrecked this place. They are very old and have lost their bladder control. They have peed on one spot in my living area so I might as well stay here until they have passed away.

When comparing my financial situation with my friends who are successfully retired and are travelling I have myself a pity party. I focus on how I ruined my life and health through hoarding. I am a medical professional and should have a good retirement fund saved through work and my own savings. Because of my hoarding I lost my house which I would have owned by now and would be mortgage free. I would have had enough money to do the travelling I want to do except I spent everything I had. Any money I had saved I used up when I was disabled and had no source of income.

And so I was very discouraged and thought "is all I have in life is to blog about how I wrecked my life"?  Then a friend of mine who I see only occasionally because she lives in the opposite side of the country was here to visit and said that she needed to pick my brain about my experience because she has a loved one who is suffering with hoarding.   We had a conversation about my experience with hoarding and following that I told my friend that her enquiry came at a great time because it reinforced why I was blogging about hoarding, depression and alcoholism. The reason I am blogging about my experience is to help hoarders, their family and friends and the intervention service providers.

If anyone who is reading by blog as I write it has questions or comments please use the comment functionality included with the blogs. Perhaps other hoarders or their family and friends or service providers could use this blog to be encourage each other and gain insight into this mysterious disorder.  I will continue to blog to tell my story. I encourage everyone who is reading any portion of it to read from the first blog though to the most recent so it reads like a book.