Fall Upon Fall: The Wheelchair Was the Logical Next Step

I received the news as what I perceived to be a bevy of people sitting in my living room four years ago. It was me against them, so many of them, I thought. And it actually wasn't a bevy.

"I regret to tell you that you're going to be in a wheelchair, now that you had six falls in the space of four years, until you build up your leg muscles," said the social worker, who was surrounded by a physical therapist, an occupational therapist, my caregiver, the nursing coordinator, and a student nurse who was looking sorrowfully at me. 

I thought the social worker was smug and must have said those words to other stroke survivors, and actually eleven falls in three years, to be precise, and I scoffed at the idea. Me, in a wheelchair. I was using the cane at the time, but with every fall, I regressed in my ability to walk, and my narrative followed.

"I just want to be where I was before the fall," I pleaded every time. But every time, my ability to walk was further back than it was the previous time. 

"It will be safer," the social worker continued. Safer, a favorite word of every PT. Nobody asked me if I'd rather be safer. Maybe I don't want it to be safer, I thought, obstinate, stubborn to a fault. Maybe I'll take my chances, see where things end up. 

Fast forward five years. I'm still in the chair, actually a transport chair, which a person behind me has to push once my legs get tired after 10 minutes of propelling myself. 

But when I took yet another ambulance to the Emergency Room and needed thirty stitches to close the tear on my good leg right down to the joint after hitting my leg on the dresser which had sharp brackets, leaving behind a bloody mess in the bedroom, I knew, at that moment five seconds after the fall, I would have no more. No more of any of it.

While I was in the hospital for three days, three things happened. First, my son and my aide rearranged the bedroom where my leg could hit nothing. The dresser was moved to the opposite wall. 

Second, I got a floor-to-ceiling which my younger son installed that helps me with both exercise and transfers. 

And third, Sara and I founded Brain Exchange, exclusively for stroke and other TBI survivors to write ongoing emails in a 1:1 partnership which keeps me busy throughout the day and is helping me forget about the nursing home hellhole I was situated in for five weeks.

The renowned Daniel Gu who had a stroke, the founder of Strokefocus, developed the sign-in form and logistical meetings among Daniel, Sara, and me, and ever-pleasant Anne Tillinghast, who didn't have a stroke, the musical director of The Backstrokes (a band of stroke and other TBI survivors of which I am a member playing keyboard, the others mostly string and percussion, singing and playing every week) assists the effort.

So all of this is to say, I'm better now, still having physical therapy at home, and thankful for the Thanksgiving that I will attend later today with my sons and son's girlfriend.

I haven't fallen for four months. Will I fall again? How the hell should I know! After every fall, I said it would be the last, and you see how well that turned out.

Can You Rid Yourself of Bad Habits and Thoughts Like Smoking and Strong Dislike With BWRT? It Worked So Far for Bobbie!

Hypnotist and Bobbie

As a stroke survivor, I once considered hypnotism as a way to walk fast again. The doctor said hypnotism doesn't cure weak, atrophic body parts. But then there's Bobbie.  

First, a little background. Bobbie is my caregiver, a word I hate except when Bobbie says it. She is a "real" caregiver, state-licensed, not somebody who goes into caregiving as a hobby or, worse yet, a past-time to get money for alcohol or drugs. I  had a few caregivers like that. (https://stroketales.blogspot.com/2020/12/being-comfortable-in-mind-and-spirit.html)

Anyway, Bobbie goes through, at least, a half of a pack of cigarettes daily. She smokes in the car with the window rolled all the way down and it doesn't bother me except for the fact that she has COPD, high blood pressure, and one heart attack around five years ago, and I don't want to lose her. Bottom line: Cigarettes aren't good for anybody, especially with her medical history. 

Since the day she arrived, she always said she wished she could stop smoking cigarettes, but she never did until now. She hired a hypnotist at $100 per session who uses Brain Working Recursive Therapy, or BWRT, as a method. She had her first session last Wednesday, and hasn't had a cigarette since. Two more sessions to go to reinforce.

Oh, she still has urges. She just squeezes her thumb in the fold when she feels that longing, most likely learned when she was "under." She takes care of her 80-year-old mom who lives 110 miles away on the weekends. That long drive is tough on Bobbie because automatically, she'd reach for that cigarette. But since Wednesday, she hasn't touched one. 

Bobbie will continue with BWRT because that method also aligns with getting rid of bad thoughts. Her sister and brother tried to pry guardianship of mom away from Bobbie in a couple of court cases, citing phony physical, emotional, and financial abuse. Her sister and brother lost every time. I know her mom and met her on many occasions. A more loving duo between Bobbie and her mother does not exist!

But Bobbie wants to be done with the hate and repulsion she has for her sister and brother. BWRT to the rescue! Her hypnotist says BWRT will work for that loathing, too.

As Mark Twain said, "The secret of getting ahead is getting started." And you got started, Bobbie! Woo-hoo! 

And if you have bad habits and/or thoughts, and who doesn't, find a hypnotist and ask about BWRT first before you spend your money. You'll eventually find one. It's worth the wait.