The mental overload that I have found myself within the last few weeks is becoming exhausting. Why is it, that when life finds a chink in your mental armour, it then pours in more and more until you want to scream at everyone, “Just leave me alone”. I find myself exactly where I feared when I agreed to the help of carers. Finding those glorious gaps where I am alone and life is peaceful, seems almost impossible now. Two months ago, my life was easy, Adam and I alone on Saturdays and Sundays and every weekday when he works, I was here by myself and our evenings were about us, nothing else. Now, I have just Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday, when life is as it was, the rest, are messed up, changed and noisy with people. How can just one hour from each day being changed, feel like a total day taken over?
I know that last week was exceptional, as I was really meeting and building the picture of my needs from the incontinence service and the district nurses, but even when they were here to do my enema this Monday, it felt like my entire day was reshaped. The enema on Friday hadn’t really worked. I did warn her that I didn’t think the contents of my bowels weren’t in reach. As she squeezed in the contents of what looked like a rather large bottle, all I felt was the tip of it, then 15 minutes later the liquid starting spill back onto the pad she had supplied for such an outcome. Neither of us had really thought it out either, as although my wheelchair was to hand, I had my trousers and knickers still around my ankles. Not exactly a good move when my body was racked by tremors and we had to somehow get to the loo. Trust me, it was a journey that I wouldn’t have managed without her assistance, otherwise, my white bedroom carpet wouldn’t be so white. It wasn’t as though my bowels cleared, they just took exception to having something enter it from the wrong direction.
Until late that afternoon, that was all that happened. The hours passed and nothing other than fast journeys for small amounts of liquid. I really shouldn’t have wished for action as that was what I got all day Saturday. Every time I moved, I had to go to the loo to clean myself up. I went from nothing happening, to a slow seepage of solid that I could do nothing about. On the good side, it was also Saturday that I started to feel pressure right across the top of my stomach, a pressure that I knew all too well. Late Sunday, it started to turn the corner and if life went to my bodies normal plan, that would have meant three more days of gentle build up, them two or three days of pain, before it would move again. Normal was interrupted on Monday, by enema number two, and the wonderful relief of all that future pain being interrupted by relief. As Murdoch used to say “I love it when a plan comes together!”. Because it cleared as far as possible, there was no follow-up leakage, no pain nothing, just my body doing what everyone else does with ease. Monday also found me on a good day. When the nurse arrived the tremors were quiet and I wasn’t normal, but about as close as I ever get. That meant that once she had me safely on the loo, without either my trousers of knickers, I told her to go. She could see clearly the difference in me and was happy to follow my wishes. I think she had been gone about twenty-five minutes when I started to wonder if my choice had been a wise one.
Somehow, I had to return to the bedroom, play about with the new mega towels she had delivered (quite honestly, if you added tags, it would fit a 6-month-old baby), get redressed, locked up the front door properly, and tidy up all the bits and pieces she left behind. That whole period from her ring the doorbell to then was about an hour and a quarter, and I didn’t have the tiniest drop of energy left, twenty-four hours on, and I’m still not revived. It appears that I somehow managed to empty, far more than just my bowels.
It’s Tuesday now, that means I am alone today, this is one of my peace days that I knew so well, but every second of it so far feels, like I am working towards finding the energy for tomorrow. The morning will find me once more with the nurse, and another enema, although I doubt there is much there after yesterday’s spectacular success. Tomorrow afternoon will see my carer here for my shower. How am I going to make my way through all that, and still be alive enough to enjoy my evening with Adam? A double whammy, that right now sounds like something that is going to leave me beyond wiped out, but I have no choice, this is the agreed plan, the way things are to be until we know exactly what works and what doesn’t, for my bowels. It goes without saying that I am more than hopeful that the space between each enema in time will be expanded.
It is bad enough that I feel so out of control of my body, but to throw in the sensation that my life has been taken over and planned by others, well, it’s left me just a little numb right now. Yesterday, the chemist arrived with yet another new drug, something else for me to swallow on the instructions of my doctor. It feels right now as though all I do is swallow and breath in medications, and when that fails, the nurses take over and insert it where I can’t. If anyone can think of any orifice they have missed, well please keep it to yourself. I always thought that our bodies were supposed to carry us through life and to bring us pleasure along the way, life now is all about medications, just to make it work at all. That pleasure piece, well, it’s still there when there is the time, just a little harder to find, and far less fun than I remember.
Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 06/07/2014 – Some scares never heal
I feel that bit more under control today, not as lost and as though I am grasping at anything in my mind to keep me in line and still moving. It’s mad how something you knew, but didn’t want to hear, can really through you into the worst of muddles and make you just want to stop the world in it’s tracks for a while. I would even go as far as to say that my determination not to be beaten, is returning, not in the angry…..