I FELL down last Monday. In my haste to transfer from bed to wheelchair, I got careless. A motorcycle was honking outside. I gathered that to be the Pos Laju delivery man because it was too early for the postman. I was not expecting any package but there he was outside the gate honking incessantly and revving his motorcycle engine.
I sat up. I was still groggy. With one hand on the bed and the other on the wheelchair I shifted my weight. The wheelchair moved a little. And then it moved a little more. My buttocks missed the seat. I knew what was coming next and blurted out an expletive.
I tried to protect my head as I went down because when I fall, I drop like a rag doll. My buttocks hit the floor first. Then I was flat on my back, struggling desperately to untangle my legs so that I could sit upright. The delivery man honked a few more times and left.
The years of being sedentary together with chronic kidney disease have caused my bones to become brittle. A simple fall like that could have easily cracked my hip. I have a friend who had to be bedridden for three months to recuperate from a fractured femur after falling off from the wheelchair.
After making sure no bones were broken, I called my wife and told her in my calmest voice that I was all right. This was not the first time I fell and had to call her at work. She took a half day’s leave from work and hurried back. Even with her help, we spent 30 minutes struggling to get me on a low stool and then to a higher one and finally back onto the bed. With each attempt, I could feel my shoulder joints creaking.
The effort wore me out. I had to rest in bed for the rest of the day. As I lay there catching my breath back, I took the opportunity to reflect on my condition. I used to be able to do this quicker and with less effort. However, I realised my strength, and consequently whatever independence I have left, has been declining steadily.
This is not unexpected. I just turned 50 a couple of weeks ago. With age, joints degrade, strength declines and eyesight deteriorates. Likewise, health wanes. It hits those of us with paraplegia and tetraplegia harder as we tend to exert ourselves more. We are also predisposed to certain injuries and ailments. This puts an extraordinary strain on our body, which is worn out well before its time.
As I took stock of the situation, I was alarmed at how much help I need now compared to 10 years or even five years ago. I could dress myself with some effort 10 years ago. Now, I get breathless just from wearing pants and need twice the time. I have cut down on doing many things because of this. As a result, I have become even more sedentary.
I am not the only person affected by this decline. As I increasingly lose the ability to perform tasks, my wife has to put in extra effort to help me. Apart from her work in the office and household chores at home, she is encumbered by my dependence. This puts an extraordinary strain on her as well.
In all the years since we got together, she has never once complained or slacked in helping me with my tasks whenever I needed it. In doing that, she had to do some heavy lifting, which put her at high risk of sustaining an injury. Yet, she continues doing it even now when she has to do much more than before.
As much as I try to lighten the burden I am imposing on her, there is no respite for her as she is the only person doing this for me. She spends most of her time helping me with one task or another. This is the peril of being a spouse to a person with severe impairments. There is so much one has to sacrifice, and then some, in a relationship like ours.
I worry for the day when I am reduced to doing only the simplest of tasks and having to be dependent on her for most of my other daily activities. She is not getting any younger. There may come a time when she can no longer provide the help she has been giving to me. There may come a time when she herself may need a helping hand with some of her chores.
Growing old is worrisome. Growing old with severe impairments is even more so. I am anxiously looking forward to the day when the Independent Living Centre my friends and I are working on establishing starts to offer a personal assistant service.
With the support of this service, I will be able to do more in spite of my declining condition. At the same time, my dependence on my wife will be greatly reduced and leave her some free time to rest and pursue her hobbies.
I have yet to find out what the Pos Laju delivery man brought the other day. He left a card in the post box stating that the item could be collected at the nearest branch the following day. I hope it is something worth my while, especially when I fell down because of it.