Picture me 4 years ago: I’m 53, just finishing my second stay in rehab. I’m in Israel. I have multiple sclerosis (MS), complicated with chronic bladder infections (UTI’s). My first rehab had been great: really tough, but I left walking better than I had in years. I could even climb stairs. Then I fell and broke a bone in my foot. After it healed I thought, ‘Hey, go back to rehab, learn to walk again, no problem.’ Right.
My ticket to rehab is another UTI. I arrive sick, weak, deconditioned. The staff think there is no hope. They think I am in denial. “Diana, you don’t realize you have a progressive disease.” They sincerely believe the best thing for me is to go into a nursing home. To stay. Forever.
My great-grandfather spent the last 20 years of his life in a nursing home (he lived to be 103). I can do the math: 103 – 53 = 50 years. Not if I can help it.
They have 3 weeks to go through the motions until they can be rid of me. They don’t say this, but I know. No one likes to work with hopeless cases.
I don’t think I am in denial. I say “maybe.” Maybe the MS is worse and therapy won’t help. But maybe it will. The only way to find out is to try.
People don’t like to hear ‘maybe.’ We argue every day. One of the things we argue about is my walker. They insist that I use their therapeutic walker. I think theirs is harder to use. My walker just sits in my room.
After two weeks, I’ve had it. I grab my walker on the way to therapy. Pushing the walker in front of my wheelchair, I roll down the hall. Somehow I maneuver it and me on and off the elevator, then back down the hall to physical therapy (PT). No one says a word.
My walker sits there while I do PT. It sits there while I do occupational therapy (OT). It sits there while I do more PT. Finally, Elan asks if I want to try it. I nod my head, “Yes, please.”
I stand up and walk down the hall, leaving my wheelchair behind. It marks my progress: I could walk!
I can’t walk today. On March 4, 2013, I entered my first nursing home in Ranana, Israel, not to stay for good, but to see how much better I could get. Flying back to Massachusetts 4 months later, I got sick again. Fortunately, the ER doctor (in Worcester MA) had studied in Israel and could read my discharge papers. That’s just one of the miracles that has happened.
I’ve been in 6 nursing homes, 3 rehabs, and 4 hospitals, and I’m still not done. My friends have been telling me I should blog about my experiences and what I have learned. I am posting this today, to celebrate my 4th anniversary. We’ll see how it goes from here. Thanks for reading
Escape From the Nursing Home 