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Blog > Stories > Fiction > Three Months in Hell – Part 5

Three Months in Hell – Part 5

Written by botox on Thursday, March 5, 2009

Not fully awake and still groggy from so much morphine, I’d forgotten about the halo and vest confinement when I tried to raise up. I first thought it was all a bad dream but it was not. Out of the corner of my eye, I could still see the black bars that made my portable prison a reality. I touched them in horror and started to cry.

Painfully, the nurse rolled me over to get a clean sheet and pad under me. It hurt so much to do anything but breath that I wanted to pass out.

It was two hours later when the same nurse came in and asked if I needed to go to the bathroom. I didn’t feel the urge and said I was fine. When she asked again in an hour I still did not have a need to go. Then she checked my underpad and asked if I knew I was wet. I did not think I was. She was gone for a moment and returned with a cart and closed my privacy curtain.

"I’m sorry I’m messing up the linens," I said appoligetically, "I’m so groggy I must not feel the urge."

"Well, Dear, you are leaking and are not aware of it," she said, "Since you will be going home soon, we are not going to put another catheter back in you. Instead we’ll manage it the old fashioned way."

She opened the cart and proceeded to put things on the top surface but I could not see what she was doing. I could just catch some of her movements out of the corner of my eye. She again rolled me over, just as painfully as the last time, and replaced my dirty linens. Instead of covering me back up she continued to do something. I could feel the cool air on my moist skin. I heard a rip sound, like packing tape coming off the roll, then again and again and one final time. When it stopped she looked down at me in my bed and smiled.

"What was that?" I asked, "What is different?"

"Honey," she said with a little too much smugness, "You can’t control your bodily fluids so I put you in a diaper."

I’m sure I turned three shades of red before I began to sob uncontrollably and I couldn’t even hang my head in shame, "I haven’t wet myself since I was a small child!"

I instinctively ran my hand down my side to confirm what she had just told me. As I slide a finger down the side of my fur-lined vest, it abruptly stopped at my waist. Without a hint of bare skin, I felt the plastic backing and padding that extended to the top of my leg. I moved my hands from there to my crotch only to find a mound of fluff and crinkling as I tried to reassure myself it was only a bad dream. It was not a dream and it was all too real.

Here I was, a grown woman, in the hospital with a broken back, broken neck, wearing a halo and a diaper. How could it be any more humiliating and painful? I learned that day to never ask a question you don’t want answered.

That evening they brought me creamed corn, mashed potatoes and jello. Nohting you could sink your teeth into. I was having difficulty eating because I could not tilt my head back when I swallowed. If I wasn’t sitting up straight, which hurt terribly, I could not see the food to spoon it in. Insult to injury was having to wear a bib. The nurse helped feed me, like I was a baby or something. In the end, it was food and it wasn’t as bad as everyone makes out.

The nurse gave me some pain pills and other medications. I did not know what else until I’d already taken it. She said she’d given me a stool softener and a fiber bulking pill.

"Why do I need a stool softener and a fiber laxative?" I asked with annoyance.

"Because pain pills slow peristalysis. Your gut slows down and you’ll be horribly consitpated in no time," she said, "You don’t want that. Now, let’s check your diaper."

I’d completely forgotten about being in a diaper until she brought it up. She uncerimoniously yanked my sheet back and squeezed the outside of my diaper. I could see her shake her head as she pulled another diaper out of the cart and proceeded to change me. Thankfully, I was unable to see the act with me laying flat, seeing only the ceiling. I’d been diapered like a baby, fed like a baby and now I was being changed yet again. Would I ever be able to fend for myself again?

"How are your legs?" asked the nurse, "Can you feel anything? Can you move them yet?"

I tried to wiggle my toes but I was aware that the sheet wasn’t moving, "I don’t think so. GOD! I’M PARALYZED!"

"Calm down, child," said the nurse, "The doctor thinks it is just a bruised cord. You should heal. Give it time and just pray. You have some muscle tone and breath on your own. Have faith!"

It was all I could do to keep my composure, "OK, I’m sorry."

"You will need someone with you most of the time," said the nurse, "You won’t be able to bath or shower for twelve weeks. Sponge baths only, I’m afraid. You’ll need help with hygiene, diaper changes and clothing. Walking will be difficult until your legs regain control and even then you’ll be top heavy. Do you have family living in the area?"

I started to tear up again, "No, I’m all alone here. My family is back east."

The nurse wasn’t as cold hearted as she first seemed, "There, there, Honey. You can go to a rehab hospital or an assisted living facilty. Once you are a bit more self sufficient, you can get a visiting nurse to help with things. You’ll be OK."

I could not say a word. My mind was racing around in circles without coming to conclusions. Going to a nursing home seemed inconceivable to me yet here I was diapered, paralyzed from the waist down, immobilized from the waist up and unable to fend for myself. I had to face it, I was a baby in an adult body.

Tags: Diapers, HALO, Paralysed

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