MIGHTY MOUTH
As December and the Christmas season arrived, so did the decorations and
holiday activities for the patients. Those who were able, during occupational
therapy, were creating decorations and trimming the tree. One of the options
was painting holiday related ceramics. Now this sparked my interest. I'd
dabbled in ceramics at the first school I taught at in my spare time (the
band room was adjacent to the home economics room) and my mother-in-law had
a kiln and was into ceramics, too.
"Do you want to try painting an ornament? We could set it at your height
and you could hold the paintbrush with your mouth." They were determined
to find something creative I could do. Having seen Joni paint with her mouth,
I HAD to give it a try to see what it was like. So they set the ceramic ornament
on a table the same height as my mouth, wheeled me up to it, dipped the brush
in paint, stuck it in my mouth and away I went.
To my surprise and delight, I found after a while that if I was very still
and worked at a slow pace, the paint would go right where I wanted it to.
Suddenly I was painting. No one was helping me (besides dipping the brush).
I found independence for the first time since my accident. I could do something.
I wasn't totally helpless. It was exhilarating! I couldn't wait for each
new day to come so I could go to Occupational Therapy and paint. For the
first time in almost six months, I felt productive! I was no artist, like Joni, but it was fun! I never thought that word would leave my lips from a wheelchair but it did, without reservation.
When the ornament was finished, I was ready to try something else using my
teeth as a grip. My therapist had another idea. "How about typing on a computer? You could hold a stick
in your mouth and push it on the keys."
That sounded good. They wheeled my
chair into the room where the computer was set up then put me at the correct
distance from the keypad that matched the length of the stick I would use.
I bit on the mouthpiece end, aimed the other tip at a key and 'tap'- I typed
a 'J' followed by an 'E' and an 'F' then another 'F' Continuing on I slowly
typed my last name. I was writing!! Again, all by myself. Maybe there IS
life after paralysis. My determination to do something for myself, without
having any assistance, caused my patience to rise to a whole new level.
All that was left for me to do was somehow learn to get around on my own.
My arms didn't work. I couldn't use a standard wheelchair because I couldn't
roll my own wheels. I couldn't even move my wrist enough to activate a simple
lever on an electric wheelchair. Up until now people had been pushing me
where I needed to go. What wheelchair was available for someone such as me?
It turned out I had two options. I could wear a brace on my shoulders and
chest that held a joystick that I activated with my chin or I could use the sip-n-puff method. This
electric chair had a straw that swung around right at my mouth and I controlled
the chair's movements by sipping or puffing into it. One puff made it move
forward. A sip would stop it. A gentle sip or puff would turn it left or
right. A regular sip from stop would move me backwards. It also had three
forward speeds.
It took me no time at all to decide on the sip-n-puff chair. I felt the other
would give me a charley horse in my chin and neck muscles. Also, the straw
on the chosen chair would serve a double purpose as an item to scratch my
face when needed. The chair will also have a button on each side of the headrest.
Hit one and the chair reclines. Hit the other side and the chair comes back
to an upright position. (The recline feature on my current chair is now powered
by a straw. My head got sore using the other method.)
After a couple of weeks in the new chair, I was no longer running into walls
and doors. And with my health stable and outlook consistently on the rise,
I was released on Christmas Eve, 1982 having spent just one week short of
six months in hospital and rehab.