Being “Naughty”
Tubes and Adult Diapers: It had occurred to me that, although I hadn’t been able to move, how come I hadn’t eaten or been to the bathroom after so many days? I hadn’t felt any urges to eat, but I questioned in my mind why I hadn’t been to the bathroom yet. I gathered that the drips had been compensating for the no evidence, or memory of a meal. However, no visit to the bathroom had been really odd. I looked around, and as I had seen people and staff go in and out, what I had worked out was the door at the base of my bed that must have been the bathroom. I really wanted to go through that door. However, my drips, things, and paralysis restricted me from even trying.
I understood why the drips had been attached to me, but I suddenly became aware of other equipment (catheters) attached to my private parts. I was horrified. I quickly and gradually pulled them away with my right hand. It certainly explained my lack of visits to the bathroom. After some emergency bleeping noises, the poor nurses had to face and clean up the awful mess later. Naughty me! I later was reduced to the indignity of wearing adult diapers after that. One nurse actually dropped her face down to my face level, and angrily scowled at me through her gritted teeth, ” never touch any tubes again!”, in Spanish. I felt like a child and that had been well and extremely told off! However, after that, it meant that I had more freedom of movement each day to sit in the arm chair for an hour. Even with the big “Bridget Jones” sized diapers!
A Little Try at Being Adventurous: That hadn’t been the end of my curiosity. I reasoned that, if I had a good leg, I should have been able to limp my way over to that elusive bathroom. Wrong! When I had managed to slowly edge myself off the end of the bed, I tried to stand up and realised that I had made a huge mistake. I hadn’t taken into account how weak I had been and ended up crashing in a heap onto the floor. I had made such a clatter, which attracted a lot of attention. Again, the nursing staff hadn’t been too amused with me. I became a “fall risk” from then on. I really couldn’t blame them. I could have fallen badly, cracked my head or broken something. It never occurred to me at the time though. I was just had in a hurry to prove I that I could walk, or at least limp. Boy had I been wrong!
24th January
First Swallow Test: I had a few sessions of attempting to stand up freely, to test my balance. It had been tiring and I felt absolutely useless. I constantly fell back onto my bed, to my frustration. According to the nursing staff, I had pulled out my nose feeds. I hadn’t recalled doing that, but I had pulled out the catheters earlier, so I really couldn´t argue. Dr Hamad had been concerned that as I had pulled my nose tubes out, resulted in arrangements for a swallow test. He told me that, if I choked when I swallowed, the feeding tubes would be reinstalled. If I managed to swallow, I would not have them back in. No way did I want them back! – A new challenge for me! Two nurses arrived with an orange jello concoction and spoon fed me gently. After I had kept down 3 spoonfuls, one of the nurses declared me “champion!” That was the start of me gradually being able to have liquids.
Brushing my teeth: I finally had permission to have my teeth dry brushed. My breath must have been horrendous, but I’d been allowed a clean with an awful tasting paste. No water, or any liquids, meant I readily accepted the dry and horrible version. It had become a new luxury at this stage. As for my hair, I must have looked terrible. I had been at the mercy of the nursing staff and their military bed washing routine.
Sad News of a Friend: Colin broke the awful news that our good friend, Steve from my golf club, had been admitted into Marbella hospital. The poor man had suffered over a year with throat cancer. Over many months he had lost a great deal of weight, fought through several tests and attended many hospital appointments. He bravely faced up to his new fight. I had been shocked to hear and frustrated because I had no ability to directly contact his wife, Stephanie. Colin and I hoped that Steve would get on the road to recovery, but the news hadn’t sounded encouraging.
26th January
Relatives Constant Comfort: Susan, my middle sister, had to go back to her family. I had been totally grateful for her presence, but amazed she had stayed for so long. Each day had been a schedule of Colin and my sisters visiting me, while they stayed in a local pension (motel), that had been conveniently close to Malaga hospital. It couldn’t have been easy for them. Vivian had work commitments back in London, Susan had her husband and daughter in Manchester, and Colin with the stress from running the business, finances and commuting from our house an hour away . Poor Colin had been left with juggling to get the business back on track, dealt with mounting paperwork, had to sort our dwindling finances from a distance, while I had been out of action. I had been so grateful for their moral support. Just their presence when I woke up, had been very comforting but I felt totally useless.
No Solid Food: I hadn’t been allowed solids yet, in case I choked, or got pneumonia. I had to watch what I could, or wasn’t permitted to have. I hated that I had to be spoon fed and had been placed on a regime normally for diabetics. I had soup, that looked and smelled horrible, but I soon got hooked on drinking yoghurts – especially the chocolate versions. Dr Hamad visited, and he seemed happy with my progress. He mentioned the possibly of release home on the following Monday. I became so happy.
The Night Shift: I had a bit of a problem with the night carers. They turned out to be different to the kind nursing staff of the day shift. The nightly “Diaper Brigade” only came round 4 four times a night. This meant that I had been left for ages until I had been given a regimented change-over, irrespective of the fact that I had very little control of my bodily functions. Although I had buzzed for help during the night, I had been constantly ignored! I became so angry one night, that I had managed to take off my diaper with my good hand, and just dropped it onto the floor. That certainly attracted their attention, but I had been marked as a troublemaker! I had nick named them the “Night Witches”, as we developed a mutual animosity. Yes, I had been naughty, but could anyone have blamed me?
Nightly Tie Down: I dreaded the end of visiting hours, because “The Witches” saw fit to tie me down in my bed each night. It had been so bad, I wasn’t able to lift my good arm to even scratch an itch, which became a ritual of being tied down, of me objecting and squirming every night. Each morning, upset at my distress, Colin or my sister released me. The staff had been requested several times, not to bind me. However, they had continued anyway every night.
One night, I had been held down by four of them, while force fed with some mashed up pills into a jelly. I had struggled and refused to open my mouth. Two of the “Witches” had grabbed my nose and chin, to pry my mouth apart. My nose had been pinched so hard that I developed a nosebleed! I angrily tried to shout “no authority” to force me, or tie me down. One of the “Witches” replied in Spanish, “who are you going to tell? The hospital?”. The following morning, after Colin or Vivian had released me again, they realised that I had been too afraid and distressed to go to sleep at night. Vivian had kindly volunteered to sleep in the arm chair next to my bed. She kept me calm, held my hand, spoon fed me and made sure my diapers had been changed at any time of the night. There had been no way I could have described the relief of her presence. It gave me such peace of mind and it had been so thoughtful of her to be on hand. After that, I stopped behaving like a naughty girl for while ……..
Please view next page 9 at Link “Tantrums, Final Release and Going Home”: https://www.rebootinglinda.com/more-naughty-tantrums-going-home/
CONTACT FORM: Please leave a comment …..
We would love to hear from you and appreciate if you will “Share” your comments or experience with us. This will help us make a compilation of stories to help others to give hope and encouragement for their journey to recovery.
Your email address will not be published. Please fill in the form below with a brief description of your experience so we can contact you for more details.
Now you realize what happened, what was going on and what you did but you were naturally not aware of the events and happenings at the time. Not being able to do something seems to cause us to want to do it even more and it’s very frustrating when we can’t and you were no different. My wife’s friends husband is currently going through the exact same thing as you having had a stroke, but he initially was totally unable to move at all or speak and to make it worse the caregivers didn’t speak his language so you can imagine what he was and is going through. Now look how far you have come since first being struck down like you were. You are doing great in your recovery….keep up the good work.
Thank you very much – it was a pretty frustrating and trying time but I guess I could have handled certain situations better if I was my normal self. It’s my stubborn side that came through 🙂 Anyway, I really hope you friend has a full recovery and hope this blog might be of help, even if it’s just to show that it’s normal to get frustrated and angry. All the best xxx