…you don’t know whether to post an “argh terrible disaster it’s all going wrong crisis.” status update or a “oh wow this just happened I rock” status update – and the two things relate to different parts of the same incident.
So it was something like 11:30pm last night. I’m on the computer and beginning to think about bed but I’m waiting for something on here to finish. I decided to leave it on and go to the loo, start getting sorted. I’m in the hall, almost to the bathroom when something happened to my manual chair and not only wasn’t I moving but it had dropped in one corner and I was half in and half out the chair.
My powerchair is also in the hall so I try a couple of times to get myself up but I can’t. I have to ring my parents. My Dad answers and it turns out I’ve woken him up. He comes down and lets himself in and I’m really surprised that I didn’t fall out in the ten minutes it took him to get up and get here. I’m sore from having my leg in a position it doesn’t like and that triggered a ton of clonus (which I rarely have any more). Whilst I was waiting for him I’ve had a better look at my chair and I think one of the castors has snapped all the way off as it’s in a really wrong position.*
Dad tries to help me up and can’t. I say I think I’m going to have to get on the floor but he tells me no because he won’t be able to get me off the floor and we’ll have to call an ambulance. He folds my walker and manages to get it round in front of me but even with that I can’t stand – it’s too low with the way it’s fallen and I’m slipping more and more forward (and out) with every attempt. Can’t bring me my powerchair to try to get into as it’s behind me and my hall isn’t wide enough to get it past.
It’s gonna have to be the floor. Which we’re both thinking means a call to 999.
I did a semi controlled fall to the floor. Dad grabbed my arm to help me control it as much as possible which is probably the only reason I didn’t hit my head as I suspect I don’t have enough control of my trunk otherwise.
Dad moved my manual out of the way and I started moving towards my powerchair. If my last proper fall is anything to go on I am getting a visit from the paramedics but my fixing this myself needs one proper attempt first.
I can’t crawl but I can move myself by doing a sort of rocking from side to side slither on my tummy (it’s not commando crawling)
I’m moving. This is good.
I get myself up on my knees on my first attempt leaning on the powerchair. This is even better.
Then I have a few moments knelt there trying to figure out what’s the best way of doing this. Pressing down on my cushion was my first thought but didn’t feel right.
I’m levering myself up. I’m getting more and more up and convinced that I’m going to get so far and lose it and crash down. So far I’m not really injured and I know when I do crash down it’s going to hurt. But I need to attempt this.
Only it ended with me up and twisting round and into the powerchair.
Neither Dad or I are quite sure how that happened (my last fall I was on the floor for over two hours and it took 2 people to get me up. I was covered in bruises for days after from both the fall and my failed attempts to get up). Mum told me this morning that Dad went home and told her “she just got herself up.” She was also shocked.
I’m sat there and I’m shaky and full of adrenaline and tears and panic because that moment when you go from fine and moving to stranded and about to fall is scary as shit. This is something that actually I need to write more about at another time. And I feel bad because I woke my Dad.
But at the same time there’s another part of me that’s sitting there thinking “holy shit I just did a floor transfer.” and kinda wanting to grin and shout from the rooftops that I did it. (I suspect adrenaline had a role in that and I may not be as able if it wasn’t an emergency)
*It turned out to be really bent rather than snapped. This was taken after Dad straightened it a little.