In November of 2020, just before Thanksgiving, I came down with a horrible cough. I could barely breathe or talk without coughing. My ribs and chest hurt from the constant contractions and my throat was so sore. Because this was happening during COVID, I wasn’t able to see a doctor. Instead, I had to speak with a virtual doctor over the phone, which fortunately my health insurance through work covered. They sent some antibiotics and cough medicine to my pharmacy but after a week of taking the meds there was no change in my condition. If anything, I got worse, and my brother and sister-in-law insisted I go to the ER. I drove myself there, which wasn’t a fun experience and in hindsight was a bad idea. When I was finally taken to a room, they did x-rays and blood tests, where they found I had bruised ribs from all the coughing and bronchitis. They recommended an ENT doctor and sent me home with more antibiotics and a plastic breathing apparatus. I hated that thing and didn’t use it as I should’ve, but the antibiotics seemed to help. I still struggled to work and function and by the time I made it to my ENT appointment, my breathing was so shallow, they were concerned I was dying. I was unable to perform stress and breathing tests the doctor wanted so he started me on a medicine used to treat asthma because he thought I had asthma even though I insisted I didn’t have this condition. He barely listened to me and paid little attention when he examined me. It was frustrating.
I did not have asthma, but I did have an allergic reaction to the medicine. I nearly passed out and ended up paralyzed. I couldn’t use my legs, I could barely move my arms, and my speech was shaky and slurred. My roommate called an ambulance and I spent two weeks in the hospital trying to recover while the doctors tried to figure out what was wrong with me. One even accused me of drug abuse and tried to send me home! I ended up reporting him and getting a second opinion from another doctor. I had a severe allergic reaction to the Albuterol the ENT doctor prescribed and slipped into a pain crisis due to complications with Sickle Cell Anemia. It was bad. I was scared and hurting and frustrated and exhausted. I spent a month in a rehab center trying to learn how to walk, talk, eat, and breathe again. It was painful. I was sent home because my insurance decided I didn’t need to be there, so I had to finish receiving my therapies at home. I did occupational, speech, and physical therapy.
My roommate and brother did their best to help me, speaking to the nurses and visiting when they could. However, because I could not work any more, my roommate and I lost our apartment and I also lost my job. My car was repossessed. I ended up moving into my brother’s living room where my sister-in-law, who had experience as a certified nursing assistant and worked from home most days, helped with all my therapies and daily activities. My brother helped when he wasn’t working and I parted ways with my roommate, thanking him for all his help.
Speech therapy helped me to talk again. I learned how to form words and sounds again instead of painful moans and grunts. Believe it or not, the singing was my favorite part. You use quite a few muscles to make sounds and melodies. Singing the birthday song or the alphabet song was challenging yet fun. It also helped that I have a nice singing voice. It was sad to me when I lost the ability to talk because I enjoy singing. Physical therapy helped me to use my body again, specifically standing, walking, arm movements, and hand strength. I practiced regular exercises and movements to improve my grip strength and mobility. This was extremely hard because while my brain was firing, it was like my limbs weren’t listening. This whole process was painful too. After each session, I was always exhausted. As I got a little better, especially with using my arms and hands, I started occupational therapy and that helped me to be more independent with things like bathing, eating, cooking, and other daily activities.
It took nearly two years, but I am mostly whole again. I still have a bit of a stutter that comes out when I’m tired or nervous and limp when I walk but I can cook meals and bathe/dress myself and do other things that I could not before. It helped me regain some independence. I can’t speak enough about how humiliating and frustrating it was to need assistance with the restroom , have others cleaning me up, and just generally not being able to get my body to listen to my mind and move when I told it to. But I’m grateful for all the therapies and help I had along the way. I’m able to write this post feeling better and more positive about myself. I am able to feel more whole again…mostly.
The Chauncey Life 