By Tina Jackson
Having been born with Cerebral Palsy, I have always understood that as I age, my body and mind will degenerate somewhat faster than the ordinary person. I knew I would experience a variety of types of losses. My independence can be impacted in ways that change my lifestyle and even my understanding of my world.
I think about the aspects of independence I can lose or aspects I have already lost due to aging with Cerebral Palsy and a stroke.
I now find myself in a growing population of the aging disabled and nondisabled who are facing challenges with Health care, medical insurance, housing, in-home care, employment, and transportation.
All people, in general, are living longer, but the medical profession is not prepared.
Fear of losing more mobility, my memory, my active social life, and the ability I now have to make decisions, perform daily activities, and do disability advocacy.
Due to a fall on Christmas Eve resulting in two fractures to my pelvis, my existing independence was severely threatened when I got to the ER with my niece. Before any assessment or x-ray, the first words the doctor said, looking at my niece and said, “So, are we looking for a nursing home placement?” This was my greatest fear. Because I knew this type of fracture at my age, a nursing home was a typical result.
My niece said not. The doctor would not admit me for assessment. I went home, unable to walk, go to the bathroom, or feed myself. I went back to the ER, hoping for more help. Again, the doctor would not admit me even after discovering I had not just one break but two breaks and was in a great deal of pain. The family contacted a family friend who is a doctor, and he called the ER and instructed them to admit me in his name. I began to see the light. I was accepted and approved for two weeks of intensive physical therapy.
The first day I could not bare weight on my left leg. I was given pain medicine, and the next day, I took my first steps. I was belted for safety but took three steps and walked backward to the bed. My emotions took over, and I started to cry. For a few days, my mind had been mourning the loss of life as I knew it. Standing in the hospital, I began giving thanks to God and everyone who helped me get admitted.
I had therapy twice a day, standing longer, taking more steps, and envisioning my future back in my little house. The nurses and aides celebrated every success. I walked to my chair, fed myself with my feeding tube and stand, and dressed. On my last day in the hospital, I walked almost 500 feet with ease.
The threats to my independence still linger out there. But I won this battle with hard work and determination. I plan to meet each challenge and threat in the same fashion.
I will not allow doctors to assume my ability and worth.
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