Nine-B Oh, bother.

My last blog entry was labeled Nine-A. That title begs for a follow-up, right? It’s been on my too-long to-do list. Finally, here it is.

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Nine-A was about attitude – one thing a person can control and one thing that greatly shapes one’s satisfaction in life. I just reread Nine-A; I still believe all is true.

That said, nine refers to the year marker since my accident. The hard truth behind all in 9A is that I’m 70-something and 70-year-old bodies are beginning to wear out and heal slowly. Period. Like Winnie the Pooh says, “Oh bother.” Add that to the challenges of half a body that doesn’t work, depending upon lots of workarounds, needing a wheelchair to get anywhere, and needing a transfer board to get in and out of bed, wheelchair, driver’s seat, and various other places.

I need to shout out again to all the wonderful friends, family, and friends of both who voted for me in the Local Hero Contest. Your votes lifted me to the top tier of applicants from which the medical, decision committee selected the winners. That gifted us Van Gogh, our wonderful, accessible van. (get in Van and Go/gh) It was and continues to be a game-changer because transferring in and out of a car while needing a reliable, trained person on either end to stow my wheelchair was daunting.

The challenges I face likely increased with age include:

• Broken bones.
  •  I was warned about watching especially my little toe when putting on socks. Of, course compression socks are advised. The risk is that the little toe would bend backward unnoticed and break. ‘Hello, there brain, I’m hurting and you’re not helping me.’
  • No one warned me about breaking my fingers. As careful as I am about rolling through doorways and around objects, I still bang my fingers. (I have one ring that I smashed into the doorframe. It is now such a mangled oval that I find it difficult to believe I could get it off my finger.) My hands take the brunt of dressing, reaching, grabbing, lifting, and rearranging my clothes or home items. Not much can be done for digits that break or are sprained near a joint. Once broken, my hands take months to heal since they are used, bumped, or twisted repeatedly.
  • I broke my femur when I fell 24” transferring out of bed.
• UTIs occur way too frequently. Thankfully, there is a new product, Uqora, that promotes bladder health. I advise others in need to check it out.
• My bone density went to ‘hell-in-a-handbag’ once I quit using my muscles to pull against the bones.
  • My family history of scoliosis did not miss me. As my unused muscles atrophy, they no longer hold my spine in place so I slump more into that curve. I periodically have times when I feel my torso drop, compressing it. It never recovers. I had already measured shorter by a half inch in my 50s. Now I can only guess my height. A friend, who sews, reminded me that if you put a too-long pair of pants on a model, they just puddle on the floor. Getting shorter, common in aging, is like that; skin puddles around one’s waist. Unlike fabric, this hem (skin) cannot be shortened. Add that to stomach muscles that can no longer hold internal organs in place; it’s not a pretty sight.
  • _­­I cannot sit up. I brace my arms on my wheelchair arms to stay upright. Simple tasks like hair care are more challenging. To free both hands to arrange curlers, barrettes, bows, or a braid, I need to lean in to balance an elbow on some surface. I adjust my sitting position frequently for pressure relief. I’ve found that my left pelvic bone now juts out forming a notch into which I tuck my elbow. It helps center me for work on my lap or keeps my body upright.
• To start each day, I exercise, stretch, wash up (thanks, Norwex), and dress on my bed. As my torso has compacted, I notice odd body parts resting on each other as I  bend to dress. The first time I realized my lower rib cage rested on my hips, I couldn’t believe it was happening. Now, it just IS. Since only 2/3 of my lung apparatus works, when dressing and transferring to my wheelchair, I bend forward, thus compressing my lungs. Afterward, I need to straighten up and take some deep breaths. When my husband is nearby, he asks if I’m that tired already. Me: No, just trying to get the oxygen back into my lungs. This configuration is not how God designed our bodies.
• Surgeries: They have become more frequent. After a 55-year gap since this 4^th grader had her tonsils removed, I’ve had the T-5,6,7 vertebrae fused, a rod inserted in my left tibia, an infected pressure wound repaired, and bladder stones removed three times. I’m hoping that’s my full quota because each one takes a lot longer to bounce back from than my tonsils did.
• Pain: It is constant but controlled – most days. Thankfully, a pain doctor quickly found an effective plan that only needed to be tweaked. Too bad the legal controls around them require monthly visits and only 30-day supplies. The frustration comes when we want to travel or visit family during times that don’t fit that monthly refill schedule. Need I mention that pharmacies are not flexible with their timelines?
• When it comes to aging, I can expect that I’ll continue to battle not only normal aging but also extra challenges due to this body that doesn’t work as designed. My blog was designed to inform others about Spinal Cord Injuries but, more importantly, to provide hope, camaraderie, and suggestions for others with SCI. For the latter group, I do not want this to come across like a complaint session but rather a nod that you’re not alone. I am dealing; so can you. PLEASE, contact me for specifics on how I handle challenges as they arise.

Watch for your blessings.