I Wiggled My Toes … Hallelujah!

Chapter 6

The Worst Is Over … or Was It?

As the day went on, I was becoming more and more agitated; my heart was racing, and my insides felt like a volcano ready to explode. I was hooked up to a monitor displaying my blood pressure, heart rate, and pulse. I was lying in one position, and because of the paralysis on my left side and the weakness of my right, I didn’t have the power to move or turn. I continually became more unsettled, and by the end of the day, I was ready to jump out of my skin, literally and figuratively. I think it was about 10:00 p.m. when someone turned my light off. After that, I am not sure if it was a dream or real, but I remember sticking my finger and thumb down my throat, trying to pull out my tonsils; I continued this for quite a while. Next, I remember trying to turn over without any luck. I lay there for I am not sure how long and started crying. I was amazed that no one heard me or came in to check on me; if they did, I was unaware of it. It was less than twenty-four hours since my surgery.

Friday, March 26

Why is all of this happening to me? This can’t be normal circumstances after removal of a tumor. I have to talk to someone, but no one is around. A few hours had passed, and I had become even more agitated and upset. What am I going to do?

As weak as my body was, I remember using all the strength I had on my right side to start throwing anything within reach. I grabbed the cover but could not pull it out of the end of the bed. I held it tight for a couple of seconds and then threw it off the end of the bed. I then grabbed the sheet, held it for a couple of seconds, and threw that off the end of the bed. Next, I clutched the pillows and with all my strength held them for a couple of seconds and threw each separately onto the floor. I then pulled my johnny up but couldn’t totally remove it because of the IV drip and monitor wiring. I don’t know why I didn’t yell or scream for the nurse, but I knew what I was doing was totally irrational. My door was partially open, so I could see the clock from the light that had shone in from the hallway; it was 2:00 a.m., and I hadn’t fallen asleep. I was flat on my back now dripping with sweat from exhaustion and fear. I tried to turn over and became terrified because my body was total dead weight. I kept twisting and turning with all my might but appeared to be moving about an inch an hour. I continued to struggle and remember watching the clock, three o’clock, and still not getting any better. Now three thirty and I hadn’t moved more than a few inches. When will this end? I can’t live like this any longer. It was now 4:00, and I was physically and mentally exhausted. Has anyone been in to see me? Why have I been left alone for such a long time? Finally, 4:30, and after two and a half hours, I had turned over onto my left side. After all that time, I had finally moved over enough to see the wheelchair that the nurse left directly next to the bed.

I had no idea what was going on and said to myself, I can’t live like this; I have to get out of here (meaning, this world). I looked at the clock and could see it was almost five. I had used all my strength to pull myself to the left side of the bed, directly beside my wheelchair. I knew with one final pull, I would fall into the wheelchair. I said to myself, If you don’t end up in the wheelchair, you will land on the floor. If that happens, at least you should make enough noise for someone to hear you.

I grabbed on to the mattress, and with all my strength, I made that final tug and dropped into the wheelchair. The IV drip and wires checking my vital signs both disconnected, and I was sitting naked in the wheelchair with my left leg hanging over the side. Now what do I do? I just want to die. I noticed the window at the end of the room. The wheelchair had not been locked, so with all the energy I had remaining, I wheeled myself over to the window and tried to open it. The plan was to jump out of the window. I was on the tenth floor of Brigham and Women’s Hospital. Fortunately, it wouldn’t open, and the nurse finally heard me crying hysterically. She rushed in and said, “What are you trying to do? How did you get out of bed?” She yelled for another nurse and said, “He detached all his wires.”

I told her I didn’t want to live.

She said, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I just want to die.”

Still crying, I said, “I have never felt this anxious or agitated before; it feels as if the inside of my body is crawling around trying to get out.”

Another nurse came running in, and they lifted me so both legs were in the wheelchair. One wheeled me back to the bed and started putting the bed back together, while the other was reattaching my wires and IV drip. It took a while, but when everything was reconnected, they lifted me up onto the bed, and they both said, “I am not sure what the problem is.”

“Before I go crazy, can I please use the phone to call my brother?” I was surprised that they said yes, but I think they would have agreed to anything that would calm me down.

“As soon as we clean you up, you can call your brother.” I had been dripping blood from the IV.

Once they finished, they handed me the telephone. One of the nurses stayed in the room while I called my brother Skip. I said, “Skip, please come in and kill me. I can’t live like this.”