Feb 202014
 

This is a reenactment of my position when the caregivers got to me.

This is a reenactment of my position when the caregivers got to me.

I am supposed to tilt my wheelchair every couple of hours to relieve the pressure where I sit. This past Saturday was a beautiful day (sorry those of you in the rest of the US and UK), so I chose to get horizontal out in the garden. Before I knew it I had dozed off and was awakened when my right arm slipped off the armrest. It was time to get out of the sun anyway so I attempted to raise my arm to the seat controls. I got within an inch or two and then my arm collapsed. So I tried again. No luck. “Well,” I thought, “I’ll rest a few minutes and try harder.”

Still couldn’t get my arm high enough to grab the armrest. By now both arms were becoming sore from dangling and I realized I would never build up enough strength. There are usually a few people wandering around in the garden, but not this day. Surely someone would come soon. After another 30 minutes I realized it was wishful thinking. Then I noticed I was having trouble breathing. My weak diaphragm makes it more difficult to breathe when I am horizontal.

So I tried to yell for help. Now you’re probably thinking (and you would be right), “How can someone with weak breathing muscles do a good job of yelling for help?”

I decided to pace myself and yell for help two or three times every few minutes. After another 15 minutes, I heard lots of excited voices and was soon surrounded by caregivers who restored me to the upright position. It turned out a resident had been enjoying the sun on our patio about 200 feet away, heard me calling, alerted the staff and I was saved!

I wish I could say, “All’s well that ends well,” but not really. Now I know I can’t venture far from the facility on my own if there is any chance I might, through force of habit, tilt my wheelchair.

I often say that inclusion body myositis forces me to rewrite my life’s script. Lately, it seems it’s trying to force me into coming up with an ending.