Life; Paralyzed

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That doesn't include coping with the loss of freedom, lack of privacy, loss of sensation, loss of dreams, aspirations and having to deal with constant compromise. It also doesn't account for the physical pain, discomfort, and sickness, that comes along with living with paralysis, and ultimately autonomic dysreflexia. I have come to a point in my own life, where I'm struggling with the question "is this life worth living for ME, or am I just prolonging my own suffering? In terms of quantifying the quality of one's life I think there are five key factors.

The amount of available options out there, for people to "regain" lost abilities, and or sensation, is a blessing and decreases with every level, further up the spinal column. When you think about person like me, that has no alternatives, to replace or substitute most of what I've lost, it is all the more harder to face. The second aspect of life I look at, when determining quality of life, is physical suffering.

My best friend just lost her mom to lung cancer. She spent the last six months of her life, in misery, doing chemotherapy and treatments, that didn't help a bit. Instead, they made her physically ill, and weak. It became increasingly hard for her to want to go through with the treatments, because the treatments themselves were like torture, and only contributed suffering.

Physical suffering and illness, have a huge impact on overall mood, and the ability to find happiness. If someone is in constant pain, or physical distress, or discomfort, it is incredibly hard to focus on much else, and there comes a point, where the scale tips, to being not worth living. I think the third important component to quality of life, is having loving, meaningful relationships with other people. Having a strong support network of family, and friends, definitely contributes to overall satisfaction with one's life.

If someone feels loved, and wanted, it gives them purpose, and motivation to return that love, and friendship. Friends and family, offer moral support, an ear to listen, and a shoulder to cry on. Having quality care givers, that you can trust, and feel safe with, also helps provide security and helps to maintain physical wellbeing as much as possible, given each particular situation. Often loved one's play the part of caregiver, and their vested interest and love, in the individual with needs' life, ensures a higher standard of life. The fourth factor, in determining quality of life or potential to improve , would be having a passion for something you do, that brings meaning and purpose to your life, and contributes to society.

Having a job, volunteering, going to school, or even hobbies, provide distraction, as well as boost feelings of self worth. Feeling needed is important. Having an inner drive, or motivation, to complete a task, or goal, can provide reasons to want to keep living. Teaching art, has always been my passion. I miss my classroom, and my kids terribly. Having such a physical based passion, has made it hard finding satisfaction, in just having a very limited amount of ways I can still do what I love.

I have been able to continue to teach others, by creating artwork by my mouth. It has provided me with an outlet for one aspect of my old life, but there are countless things that I can no longer do. Words and writing, have also served as a means of expression, and tool for educating, but I miss being able to demonstrate and do so much, and the things I can still do, are often not enough to satisfy my needs. Last, in terms of quality of life, and overall happiness, I think of superficial things, like looks, and material possessions.

Self esteem, and self image are important factors in a person's life. People often become sad, or depressed when they don't fit, their ideal image, for themselves, or when having to cope with drastic physical change. My body has changed immensely, due to my spinal cord injury, and there is very little I can do to change that.

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Before my accident I was very sensitive about my looks, and about my weight. I watched my diet carefully, and exercised. I always did my hair, shaved, put on make up, wore jewelry, got my nails done, wore nice clothes, and used perfume. Now, the overwhelming majority of my body is flabby. I have no way to exercise, or tone most of my muscles. I can't groom, or dress myself, in any way. I rely on others, for everything, and although my caregivers help me, some things are embarrassing, or awkward to ask for and accept help for like shaving, going to bathroom, brushing my teeth, cleaning my ears, clipping my toe nails, blowing my nose, dealing with acne and dealing with my period , or just never turn out the way it would, if I were doing it for myself like feeding myself, putting on makeup, and fixing my hair.

It has been very hard, getting used to living in a body, I no longer feel, or recognize. It has not been easy, to look at myself in the mirror, or go out in public. I'm constantly comparing myself, to my old self, and to my peers. Going out in my wheelchair, is especially difficult, not only because of the attention the chair draws to me, but the fact that other people witness me, needing help, being dressed, groomed, and fed. I often feel like some sort of bizarre spectacle, and I find it extremely hard to relax, or enjoy my surroundings. As far as money, and material possessions go, they are necessary, and can help, in improving quality of life, to a certain degree.

Having special equipment, and accessibility, also makes it easier and for more efficient care giving. For example, having a Hoyer lift, makes transferring me, in and out of bed, much, much easier, and safer for me and my caregivers, than my caregivers having to manually lift, or carry me. Having a wheelchair accessible vehicle, offers me the freedom to travel, and go out, much more easily and frequently than having to rely on medical transport services, public transportation, or being transferred in and out of cars manually.

Having the resources to make one's living environment as accessible as possible, provide quality necessary medical care and having a wide variety of activities, and things to do, all play a role in helping improve overall quality of life. It's hard for my loved ones to accept, but I feel like my life has come to a point where just living, equates to physical, and emotional suffering.

I have very few options available to improve my quality of life. I can't care for myself. I have a lot of physical pain, and discomfort, much of which there is nothing that can be done to change it. My IBS makes having a bowel regime difficult. Having a bowel program is both mentally, and physically taxing. Right now, I have BP every other morning. Before my accident, I went "number two" at least once, or twice a day thanks to my IBS-some days I might've had to go as many as four, or five times, in one day.

Having a nerogenic bowel, and bladder, makes life very difficult. I have to rely on an indwelling catheter, for urine, which keeps me constantly susceptible to infection. It is extremely embarrassing, degrading, and invasive, and has never gotten easier to cope with. It involves me sitting on a commode, and a nurse has to give me a supository.

The nurse has then digitally stimulate my body to "go," multiple times, each time having to insert her finger, to verify if my bowel is clean. It takes about two hours, and it's absolutely horrendous. If I don't have a successful BP don't go enough I have to worry about having incontinence, and end up having to have BP repeated the next day which ends up making 3 back, to back BP days-for scheduling purposes.

The whole process is not only an extreme violation of my personal space, it is physically uncomfortable. I get cold sweats, nausea and chills from the stimulation, and have chronic hemmrhoids. I'm convinced my daily chest pressure, and nightly fevers, and dsyreflexic symptoms are because my body wants to go to the bathroom, but can't. I can no longer feel the urge to go, or gas pains, but my body interprets that pain, and creates autonomic dysreflexic symptoms. AD symptoms can get very severe, and can result in stroke, or death. My only "option" besides having a BP, is a colostomy.

I refuse to do that. The thought of having another artificial hole cut into me, and a bag of feces strapped to me, is just too difficult to bear. It would only decrease my quality of life, which is already very low, in my opinion. I am blessed with amazing friends, that have taken an active role in my life, and have stood by side, through my hospital stays, visited me at the nursing home, and continue to visit me in my home, keep in touch with me, and invite me to do things. My family is supportive, and has helped me in, many, many ways.

Their love, and affection, has been my one constant driving force. My family is there to comfort me, help care for me, and continues to make feel loved, and wanted. Besides my love for my family, friends, and pets, I have my art and writing. Both have been an outlet for me to express my feelings, and my pain. Both my art, and writing have given me purpose, to use my talents to teach others about paralysis. They have made me feel like I have something to contribute to society, a method of spending my time, in meaningful way. Unfortunately, I've been suffering for so long, and my symptoms are only getting worse.

There is no cure, or quick fix. When I think about all the factors, and weigh all the variables, that contribute to MY daily life, the negatives vastly outweigh the positives. At some point, I feel justified in saying I've suffered enough. I feel it's horribly unfair, that I'm forced to live, the way paralysis has forced on ME.

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I'm not talking about "quadriplegics," I'm talking about Christina Symanski. I'm talking about MY personal losses, disappointments, limitations, and physical pain and discomfort, that MY body presents me with, due to MY unique physiology, and IBS. I can't speak for anyone but myself, in terms of quality of life. I wish there were more answers for me, untapped options, but I know there aren't many, I haven't explored, that are reasonable, or that I'm willing to do like the colostomy.

So then I'm left with the question, "is it really worth living? If not, than I only have but one choice, and that's to stop accepting the treatments that are prolonging my unnatural lifestyle. My only hope, and biggest obstacle, is that my loved one's understand and accept my wishes, and know that my wish is to prevent suffering, because I don't view THIS as a quality life.

Monday, December 12, Lost Love. Christina originally wrote this post on May 1, At the time of my accident, I was in a new relationship. Earlier that year I had broken off a long term relationship, of almost six years. It was a rocky relationship, that should never have lasted as long as it did. We dated all through my college years. Once I finally summoned the courage to leave him, I had wasted a lot of time for both of us.

I was already a full fledged, independent adult, and had begun my teaching career. Wrong" and I had moved in together, the previous Spring, in a last ditch effort, to make things work. Living together ended up being the final nail in the coffin. I broke things off with Mr. Wrong in September, , and moved back home with my parents. I felt cramped and suffocating, living back under their roof, especially being single, and having so much new found freedom.

It didn't take long for me to meet someone new, that I really liked, and it became apparent that I needed to get a place of my own. Meeting Jimmy, was a one in a million chance encounter. My best friend Christy had also ended a long term relationship, and decided to move back home with her mother, in York PA. Christy and I were neighbors, growing up, at my mom's house in the Poconos. We remained close friends all throughout high school, and college.

I'd often visit her, when seeing my family in PA. One day, shortly after moving to York, she was driving around town, and had stopped at a traffic light, when she noticed the guy in the car next her, trying to get her attention. She rolled down her window, and the man asked her if she knew how to get to a certain street he was looking for.

He explained, he was on his way to an audition, and ended up getting lost. Since Christy was new to the area herself, she told him she was sorry, that she couldn't help him. Shortly after, the light turned green, and they both started driving away. For whatever reason, it dawned on Christy, that this guy was my type, and decided to start flashing her lights at him, getting him to pull over. She then proceeded to ask the man, if he was single, and explained that her best friend was single, and might be interested in meeting him. She whipped out a picture of me, on her cell phone, and asked the guy for his phone number.

Amused, and surprised, he gave it to her, and they both drove away. The next thing I knew, I was getting a phone call from Christy, explaining this bizarre encounter, and urging me to give the guy a call. At first, I thought she had completely lost her mind, and was cringing at the fact that she made me look like a complete loser, to a total stranger! I thought, "this guy must think I'm pathetic, if my best friend has to resort to flagging down strangers for a date. We called, and the guy picked up, sounding very happy, and surprised. He was hanging out with some friends, and seemed like a really fun loving person.

I could hear his friends chuckling in the background, probably thinking the whole situation was nuts I know I was , and made me feel all the more nervous. Nervousness aside, I found it very easy to talk to him, and decided to take a chance, to get to know him. Christy had already been planning to come stay with me in NJ, for the weekend, and we had been planning to make a trip into the city NYC.

There was no way I was going to go on a blind date, solo, so we decided to invite him, to spend the weekend with us. I guess he liked my pictures, and our conversation, because he decided to take the risk, and take us up on our offer. We spent that week, getting to know one another, via phone conversations, and through email. He was so funny, and easy to talk to. We had a similar sense of humor, and were both into the arts. He was a musician, and I was a painter. We both liked video games, shopping, going out with friends, and similar movies.

We really seemed to be hitting it off, and I seriously started to doubt if we'd connect on a physical level. His personality, and sense of humor, seemed too good to be true. I felt like we'd been friends forever. Up until that point in my life, I'd never met a guy as funny, outgoing and down to earth, that I also felt attracted to. I'd had some nice relationships, to some hot in my opinion guys, before Mr.

Wrong, but none, where I felt I could completely let my guard down. Most of the guys I dated before Mr. Wrong were conceited about their looks, and took life too seriously, were wishy washy about commitment, or too clingy. I tended to be attracted to the "bad boy" types, and the stereotypical "guidos. We had decided to split a hotel room, between the three of us, for the weekend, since there was no way my parents were going to be ok, with having some random stranger spend the night at their house. I knew it was a risk, but figured Christy and I would be safe, since we were two against one, and he'd be in unfamiliar territory.

I had only ever gone on one date, with someone I had met online before, and it had been a total disaster. I had mixed feelings about potentially being "stuck" with someone I just ended up wanting as a friend, for an entire awkward weekend. When Friday came, I was a nervous wreck. Christy and I met at my parent's house, after work, and we headed to the hotel, to meet the mystery man.

Christy and I signed into the hotel, and went up to the room, and waited. He called to let us know he had arrived, and I remember looking out the window, and seeing Jimmy for the first time. He was driving a blue BMW, and I could barely make him out, wearing a bright yellow fleece, as he pulled off the exit ramp, across the highway, and made the U-turn to enter the hotel parking lot.

My stomach did a somersault. I was about to meet the awesome person, I'd talked to all week, and it looked like Christy was right! He knocked on the door, and I got butterflies in my stomach. I remember opening the door, and I truly took a double take. I asked myself, "How could this be possible?! I was so psyched! That first night, we hung out for a bit, and then went out to eat. The three of us had a great dinner, full of laughs.

He was so down to earth. It was like the three of us were old friends. It never felt awkward, or strained. There were no weird moments, or strange silence. We just talked, and joked around. After dinner, we decided to go out dancing. We went back to the hotel, and got changed. We went to a local club. It was "ladies' night" and they had reggeaton on the bottom floor.

Jimmy just went with the flow, and we had a fun evening. He was a bit hesitant, and didn't make any "moves" in a romantic sense. We ended the first night without a kiss. I was starting to worry, if maybe he didn't find me attractive, so I asked Christy to drill him for info. The next morning, we headed out fairly early, and caught a train into Manhatten. Jimmy had never really been to NYC, so it made the trip that much more exciting.

Christy had talked to him, while I was getting ready, and assured me he was "into me. I'd been there before, with my dad, and thought Jimmy would like it. After lunch, we walked around, and then went to Toys'R'Us. We had a lot of fun, poking around the store, taking pictures, and being silly. That night we went back to the club. By this time, I was anxious for him to make a move.

We had our first kiss, on the dance floor. It was instant chemistry. That first Sunday, morning we packed up our stuff, and the three of us hit a fast food taco joint, then hung out for a while in my room, at my parent's place, playing video games, and watching TV. Later that afternoon, I said goodbye to both of them, feeling a little insecure, about how much Jimmy liked me, but satisfied with our fun filled weekend. Jimmy and I talked all that following week, and he invited me to join him, on a trip with his friend, to Penn State, for another friend's birthday, for the weekend. This time, I'd be the one risking a trip out of state, to spend a weekend away.

I was nervous at the thought of it just being me, but also happy that he not only wanted to see me again, but was willing to go away with me, for the whole weekend. The plan was to meet at his parents' house, meet up with his friend, and the three of us would drive up to Penn State, in his car.

I brought flowers, knowing I'd be meeting his mom, before we left for Penn State. I wanted to make a good first impression, especially since, I figured his family and friends would be suspicious of how we met, and the fact that we would be spending ANOTHER weekend together, even though we barely knew one another. I think my plan worked. His parents were definitely more gracious than mine, about our relationship.

That second weekend, with his friends was a blast! Sparks flew between the two of us, and it was funny seeing, and hearing his friends' reaction to "us. Growing up, the local girls mostly viewed him as a friend, and class clown. I felt lucky, for my good fortune to meet him, and at their loss, for not grabbing him. We got a hotel room, for the weekend, since staying at my parents' place wouldn't be comfortable, or appropriate. We went out to eat, a few times, but basically spent most of the weekend snowed in. Neither of us minded.

It was a memorable weekend, none the less. From there on, in we were pretty inseparable. We would talk every night, during the week, anxiously biding our time until the weekend. I remember after about a month of dating, I felt like I couldn't wait the five days. One Wednesday night, I decided to drive up to see him, and ended up commuting to work, from PA the next morning. I was exhausted,but it was worth it. We ended up finding a half way point, in Phillipsburg, NJ, and would meet up there, mid week.

It became apparent, very early on, that I had outgrown my room, at my parents'. I needed the privacy, and freedom, of having my own place. I started looking, and making plans to move out, that April. In the meantime, we spent most weekends at his parents' and at my step dad's in the Poconos. About two months into our relationship, I felt I knew I wanted to be with, on a serious level, and needed to know if he'd be willing to move to NJ.

I had already established my career, and needed to stay living close to my job. Luckily, he agreed, and we planned to move in together in the summer, once I had settled into my new place. Things with us moved fast. I felt SO happy, every second I spent with him. Neither one of us could get enough, of one another. Moving into my apartment was awesome! It was a busy year for me. It was hectic, at times, but I was the happiest I'd ever been.

All the pieces of my life were falling neatly into place. Having a space of my own, was fantastic. I felt so happy, and alive. I couldn't wait for Jimmy to move in. We were both eager to start our new life, living together. It was going to be terrific, getting to come home to him, every day. I had roughly three weeks left, in the school year, and things at work, were finally winding down.

I had already lined up my summer job, and we had planned to move his things in officially, in two weeks. I had lined up a surgery cosmetic procedure for June 27, The plan was for Jimmy to move in, the week before my surgery, so he could help me with the recovery. We were blissfully unaware how drastically different our plan would turn out to be. Saturday, June 4, , started out like any other morning. I awoke, to Jimmy, snuggled up, right next to me we had been sharing my twin bed-which made for a tight squeeze- we didn't mind.

Knowing his birthday was approaching, I had picked up a cake, and had invited a group of my friends to stop by and celebrate. He practiced playing his guitar, while I laid on the futon, breaking in a new Gameboy game, and snuggling up next to my cat, and her new kitten. By the mid afternoon, I hadn't heard from anybody, so I started making phone calls, to confirm our plans. A few people canceled last minute, and my aunt and uncle, had decided to take my baby cousin, down the shore for the weekend.

My other cousin 19 at the time had been planning to stop by, with her boyfriend, but changed her mind, and decided to take advantage of having an empty house, and decided instead, to throw a party.

I was torn, over what to do, about the change in plans. I knew there were going to people at the party, that didn't get along well someone I saw briefly with Jimmy, and my best friend Erin, and her boyfriend were still committed to coming over. I felt guilty, because I had recently missed my cousin's birthday party, and asked Jimmy if he wouldn't mind going. He said it was up to me, so I called Erin, to reschedule, and told my cousin we'd be coming. It was the first hot weekend of the summer season, and I asked my cousin if my uncle had opened the pool, hoping to be able to go swimming.

I looked forward to going swimming every summer, and was anxious to take a dip. I thought an evening swim, with Jimmy sounded romantic. I knew there'd be food and drinks, so I asked if we could spend the night. She agreed, and I went and packed mine, and Jimmy's things. I got changed, and put my bikini on, under a tank top, and skirt, having every intention to go swimming, later that evening. We were among the first people to arrive, at my cousin's and I noticed that there was only primarily beer to drink.

I don't like beer, so Jimmy and I decided to hit a near by liquor store, for some vodka and OJ. When we got back to the house, my cousin was making jello shots, and her boyfriend was prepping food, for the grill. Jimmy fixed me a drink, downstairs, and then we made our way upstairs, to join the rest of the party. At first, we spent time outside, on the deck, me sitting on his lap, playing Gameboy.

We played a round, or two of "beer pong," and then head inside, to play card games. By the time we were done playing a few round of cards, it was past midnight, and I was itching to go swimming. I had been taking photos, throughout the night, as usual. It was a habit of mine; wanting to catalog every moment of our time together. Around am my memory is fuzzy I decided I had waited long enough, and begged Jimmy to come swim with me.

He said he wanted to finish up the round of cards, and he'd come join me. I returned the camera to my backpack, and marched out towards the pool. My cousin's boyfriend was busy at the grill, the night time air, filled with smoke from the barbecue, laughter, and music. I passed through the crowd, and made my way over to the pool.

It was dimly lit, by the porch light some twenty feet away and the glow off the tiki torches. I kicked off my sandals, and dropped my shirt, and skirt, onto the grass. I hesitated, for a moment, deciding if I wanted to take down the ladder, to the pool deck, and opted to boost myself up, onto a storage container, instead. The pool was a large, circular, above ground pool, about five feet deep, with a fencing, going around the back half.

The storage container, was a tall, rubber container, about six inches shorter than the pool itself used to store rafts, and floatation devices , which rested flush against the open side of the pool. I had to turn around, to face the house, and use my arms, to boost my butt, up onto it. Without a moments' hesitation, or thought, I dove head first, into the dark water. Within seconds, I heard a large cracking sound, and felt the impact, of my head, hitting the bottom. I remember opening my eyes, and barely seeing my lifeless limbs, hanging at my sides.

I was face down, alone, in the water, and I couldn't move. The thought flashed across my mind, " This is it. This is how I die. The next few minutes, were pure panic, and chaos.

Life; Paralyzed by James Morganti

I couldn't feel, or move, most of my body, and the pain radiating from my neck was excruciating. There had been underage drinkers present including my cousin. I should've NEVER jeopardized myself my reputation, clean legal record and career , by knowingly being around underage drinkers, family or not. To this day, I have no logical reason for why I did what I did. Panicked, and in shock, Jimmy, my cousin, her boyfriend, and other party goers rushed to my side. I recall them asking me, over and over, if I could move, what had happened, where I was injured, and if I was in pain.

My whole life, was literally crumbling down around me. My mind was racing a million thoughts, per second: What would happen at work? Who would cover for my classes? How badly did I hurt myself? What would happen to my new job, I was supossed to start, that Tuesday? What would my aunt and uncle think? What about Jimmy's birthday? Some of my cousin's friends were in a frenzy, fearful to call for help. Someone answered Jimmy, saying "We can't there's underage drinkers here.

I could see the fright, and shock, on my cousin's face. The pain in my neck, started to overcome me, as I noticed a blur, of red and blue lights, and heard the sirens. I remember being ashamed, to even give my name, as the EMS workers began frantically loading me into the ambulance. I had blacked out from the pain. The next thing I remember, I'm in the ER, and they're cutting away my bikini, asking me a million questions, hooking me up to a million machines.

My memories of my three weeks in ICU, are blurry, mixtures of reality, and hallucinations brought on by high fevers-reaching They are among the worst, most traumatic, horrific, terrifying memories of my entire life. My entire life, flipped upside down, in the matter of seconds.

My life was hanging by a thread, and I powerless to do anything, to help myself. I was totally, and utterly helpless, and terrified of dying, and the future ramifications that my accident would have, on my life, on my relationship with Jimmy, and on my family. I knew it was bad, and could possibly get even worst. Although I didn't want to admit it, to anyone, I knew there might be, no coming back from what I'd done. My parents were in shock, and livid. They lashed out, at me, my cousin, my aunt and uncle who were jerked into the middle of everything , and Jimmy.

They berated me, for being so careless, and irresponsible. They couldn't believe I had been so foolish. They guilted me, over and over, about the drinking, and the ugliness, just magnified, as the gravity of my injury, became more apparent.

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I was never going to walk again. I was going to be completely paralyzed, confined to a wheelchair, and a life of dependence, for the REST of my life. I had thrown my life away, with one stupid mistake. They were furious, about what I had done, and were vicious, treating Jimmy, and my cousin like criminals, for "letting it happen" and "being a part of it.

They used their promise of help, as leverage, to keep him from being able to talk to me, or see me. My parents let their grief blind them, with rage. Even though I was on my death bed, and my life hung by a thread I was intubated, and placed on a vent three times, and had to undergo three major surgeries they told me I was not allowed to see him, and that I should break things off with him.

They blamed him, for everything, from my drinking, to my injury. I had to tell, and retell my story, over and over again, to no avail. They didn't WANT to believe my story. They couldn't accept I was capable, of doing what I did. They felt hurt, and betrayed by my actions, because it placed a tremendous amount of responsibility onto to them, that they felt was unfair. They used the fact that I was going to need their help, to explain my condition to work, shut down apartment, handle my financial responsibilities, sell my car, pack up my things, and the tremendous uncertainty of what kind of care I'd ultimately need, and how to go about initiating, and paying for those services.

I had no choice, but to give them Power of Attorney. They were extremely insensitive to my feelings. They basically kicked Jimmy out, Christy and my mother and sisters who had traveled from upstate NY and PA and had no where else to stay, onto the curb, and shut down the apartment, before I even left ICU. They confiscated my cell phone, and camera.

They didn't even let Jimmy get his belongings, from the apartment. Jimmy had no choice, but to return to his parent's house, in PA. He was crushed, completely in shock, and devastated. He would drive hours, nearly every day, to try and come see me, only to be turned away, if my parents were present. They threatened me, saying they wouldn't help me, if I continued to see him. They told my mother and sisters, to lie to me, and say he'd left me. I was an emotional wreck. I couldn't believe the guilt, and shame they were dumping on me. My stepmom, had even read through my diary, and threw things in my face.

My heart was shattered, my soul was trembling. I couldn't believe MY own father, and stepmom were acting this way. I could die, at any moment, and they were busy yelling at me, for drinking, for being stupid, and completely disregarding my feelings towards Jimmy, and the other half of my family. How, and why, was this happening? I hated how they were acting, and how awful they were treating the people I cared about.

I felt trapped, between all parties, and felt no matter what I did, I would be in pain. Despite my parent's unrelenting guilt trips, blame, and shaming, I couldn't bear the thought of losing Jimmy. Every day, I was fighting for my life. I wanting so badly to see him. I wanted to make everything right again. I felt I HAD to get better. I HAD to fix what I'd done.

I HAD to somehow redeem myself, in my parent's eyes, and prove my worth. Throughout the four months I spent in ICU, and in the physical rehabilitation facility, I managed to see Jimmy a handful of times. Each time, was filled with bittersweet sorrow, and despair. We were both completely broken. We both felt the weight of the entire world had come crashing down, onto us. We wrestled with feelings of fear, doubt, denial and grief, over what was happening, and couldn't accept the reality that I wasn't going to get better. Neither one of us could understand, the cruel nature, of our misery, and our horrible fate.

Points of view or opinions do not, therefore, necessarily represent official Administration for Community Living policy. Living with Paralysis You have questions. Explore our paralysis resources. Need to talk to someone? Our information specialists are available to answer your questions. Call toll-free Mon-Fri, 9am-5pm ET.

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