Monday, 15 August 2011

Worst Night Of My Life

So last night was literally the worst night of my life. Even worse than the nights when they didn't think I'd live through the night (At least then I had friendly Mr Morphine to keep me company). The day was pretty good, despite some minor 1st degree burns on my legs due to some spilt boiling water. Other than that, it was a pretty good day. Right up until about 8pm.
Many many years ago when I was 22, I got myself an ostomy, which is another way to poo. In case you don't know, a Colostomy is where they take your large intestine and basically pull it through a hole in your stomach and cut a hole in it so now everything that passes through your digestive system comes out that  hole and into a back which is attached to a flange which is glued (which means you have to change it regularly) over the hole in your stomach. An Illiostomy (which I have) is where they do the same thing, only with your small intestine. Personally, I think it would be tons easier if they just permanently affixed a flange to your skin somehow, but what do I know.
Now, AISH (Assured Income for the Severely Handicapped), being the cheap bastards that they are never covers enough supplies to last. I get 60 Catheters, about 30 ostomy bags, and 20 flanges for 2 months. Do the math, that's 1 catheter a day. And I usually cath 6-8  times a day which mean I'm constantly re-using catheters. Luckily all the time I spent in the hospital didn't stop me from ordering supplies, so I have a bit of a stockpile of catheters. Ostomy supplies, on the other hand, I've already burned through. The flanges generally last between 4 days to a week (if you're really lucky) and rarely last through a shower. No, some of us aren't in favor of showering only once a week, so I rarely have one last that long. And sometimes they don't even last 3 hours. More than once I've had to change it 3-4 times in 1 day, and if you get a bad box (5 to a box) you're really screwed. So usually after 5-6 weeks out of 8 I have to order some more and pay for them out of my own pocket. And usually, the place I order from (in Edmonton) screws up the order.
So about 2 weeks ago, like usual, I had to order some more. I had 2 or 3 left, so I figured I'd be ok through the weekend and however long (should be less than 2 days) they took to get here. They're supposed to send them through DHL right to the house. DHL is the only game in town, except the post office, which takes up to a week, plus our mail box requires a key, which my dad keeps in his truck, and is about a block away and too small for the package anyway so it would go to the post office, which is downtown and barely accessible. DHL is clear across town and surrounded by gravel, but they're SUPPOSED to bring it right to the house.
It was a Friday when I placed the order. Well, the following Wednesday there was still nothing and I was down to my very last flange. So a quick, desperate search though the various bags and boxes that had come home with my after my various hospital stays found 1 last box! At least I wasn't completely screwed.
Now, fast forward to last night. Still nothing here, and once again down to my absolute very last flange again, and several more desperate searches confirmed this. Well, ok, as long as this doesn't leak, I'm calling tomorrow to find out where the hell these things are.
Then, about 8pm, you guessed it, the damn thing's leaking (Insert Blue Rodeo song here). So I attempt to seal the leak with ostomy paste and some of that clear sticky crap they used the last time I had a wound vac. It sorta worked for a little while. Then started leaking more aggressively, so in desperation I took the used flange and even more of the wound vac stuff and sorta kinda hacked togeter some sort of home made flange, then using LOTS of paste, stuck it on. That actually worked surprisingly well . . . for a while. Then, again, leaking. More paste and desperation, but by midnight it had fallen completely off. So, took 1 of those nifty urinals I . . . "borrowed" from the hopical and placed that in front of my stoma (The piece of intestine that sticks outside the stomach) in hopes that anything that leaked would end up in there. Some of it did, most of it didn't. And now my stoma is bleeding too.
So about 3am, now soaking in blood and liquid feces (90% of the time it's liquid b/c it's on the small intestine and they did the original surgery too far up, then over the course of 14 surgeries 3 feet of intestine was removed a little at a time, meaning nothing digests too well) I finally give up and decide I've no choice but to spent the night in the shower and hopefully be able to get some results in the morning and get ahold of homecare and beg for a flange.
So I gather some assorted supplies I figure I'll need to make it through the night and put my shower chair in the shower, then get in after it. First order of business, rinse off some of the . . . stuff I'm half covered in. That felt good. Then, clean my chair (which was also partially covered). Then, bunker down for a loooong night.  Was exhausted by this point, but no way in hell I could get comfortable. So I played some Sudoku on my phone, planned out some things for various projects I've been working on, and mostly just tried to keep my mind off the current shituation. In total, I got maybe 2 hours of sleep in about 10 minute intervals. Veeery tired.
Then at about 7am, my dad comes in to the bathroom, somewhat surprised he asks "What the hell are you doing in there?" and "Have you been there all night?" The answers to these questions were "Going through hell" and "Pretty much." He disappears to search once more through the assorted bags and boxes while I rinse off the last thing I ate once more. Every joint and muscle is veeery sore due to the awkward position I've been in most of the night. Well, apparently good ol' Pa could reach some boxes I couldn't, cus he found 1 last flange. That was the high point of my year. So, I shower off and clean everything good, things in my guts have finally settled down a bit, I made it out alive!
Barely.  That's when I notice my penis and testicles are swollen to roughly twice their normal size. Guess being wet and covered in liquid crap most of the night didn't do them any good, or indeed, do any good for any of my skin. So I cath out about a gallon, and am probably brewing a UTI (Urinary Tract Infection) now, luckily I'm still on antibiotics for something else, so I hope that takes care of that. I think I got everything good, and stick the flange on, and . . . SUCCESS! Looks like I made it!
So I gather up my crap and get back in my chair. Leave the bathroom, dad gets in and showers then gets ready to leave. He's got 4 LONG trips to make today, so he's gunna be home late. While he's in the shower I make a call to my grandma to see if she can go by DHL when they finally open and see if that stuff's there. It wasn't, so after a call to the place in Edmonton we find out that apparently they sent it in the mail. So grandma goes to the post office, nope, nothing. And guess what! The new flange is now leaking! Apparently the area around my stoma as well as my nether regions are oozing a clear, somewhat sticky sort of gunk making it difficult for the flange to stay on. So I get on the phone and talk to homecare, and basically beg for a flange. About 20 mins later they show up with 2 flanges. 1 is useless (no bag with it), the other is too damn small. So I make the small one fit and homecare changes the dressings and leaves. More of the wound vac stuff to hopefully help it stick, so far so good, but my guts still oozing gunk, though it's slowed down a bit. My mom called to say she was gunna be coming by tomorrow on her way to Lloydminster (She lives in Edmonton now) so I begged her to pick up some supplies and bring them with her (TBH, I didn't hafta beg too much. Love you mommy!) So now I just gotta last until tomorrow (fingers crossed).
But, I am extremely tied, sore, and irritable so  if I'm a little Krass (or Bernie) I apologize in advance.

Wednesday, 8 June 2011

Handicapped Hotrods

Figured while I got peoples attention with this whole media frenzy (maybe a slight overstatement) I should pimp this page too. Join us today!

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?sk=group_77478695239&ap=1

Tuesday, 7 June 2011

Manic Media

So a few weeks ago I went to a local "convenience" store and, as usual, the access ramp was half blocked by a cooler and now there was an ashtray tower thing between the ramp and the door making getting in completely impossible for me. An elderly gentleman coming out as I was trying to get in say my problem and helped by moving the ashtray thing and holding the door. He then said to the manager, who was working at the time, that that thing is in the way for people who need to use the ramp. I added that that cooler partially blocked the ramp too. The manager responded with "Well I didn't build it, it was like that when I bought the place". Maybe, but that was 15-20 years ago. This stuff isn't cemented to the ground either. So, granted, I was a little pissed off. So when I got home I wrote the following letter to the local paper.
The following week I got an email from the editor of the paper asking if I would be willing to do an interview with them on the issue of handicapped accessibility around town and in general. I said I would be glad to and we met up that week. 2 weeks after my letter was published they ran the following article.
Now I do wish to point out right now that there are a few inaccuracies in this article. First, it was 11 months before I ever went home for the first time, and that was only overnight for the local car show, and I had to beg and plead with my rehab doctor for that to happen. It was over 17 months before I went home for good (or at least for longer than a few hours). Also, the Shell is just ONE of several places in town that's a pain in the ass to get in. And nothing at all was done until after this article was written. When it was just me, it wasn't important.
Anyway, shortly after that a reporter from the local news station contacted me via facebook and wanted to interview me for Access Awareness Week. The timing just worked out well. And so on June 1, 2011 the following was on the local news;
And so, the following week in the other local paper, this letter appears.
Now where did that come from? Funny thing is, none of the 4 people whos names are signed at the bottom were in any way involved with any of the rest of this. In fact, in my original letter I never even mentioned the name of the stores involved. But they had no problem mentioning my name several times in their "response". Which also brings to question, why "respond" to an article in one paper by writing to a different one? "We have helped him put his purchases in his lap and opened the door for him." So as long as there is someone to save me I'm alright? They obviously missed the point of the article and the letter and the news story completely.

Friday, 29 April 2011

Gimp Rant

So it's been a while since I ranted about anything, time to set that right. What now you ask?  Well, a number of things all pertaining to being a gimp.


First, let me say that the next time I hear someone say "handi-capable" I'm going to run over someones throat! Do you call black people "achromicly challanged"? What's wrong with the word "handicapped"?





Hand·i·cap


[han-dee-kap] – noun


A physical or mental disability making participation in certain of the usual activities of daily living more difficult.



Well gee, it sounds like the right word to use for the given situation. Oddly enough, "Hand-capable" returned no dictionary results. Wonder why that is? Cus it's not a fucking word! And if anyone gets offended by the word "handicapped" I suggest they go out and buy a fucking dictionary, or use one of the dozends of free dictionaries online these days. I'm more offended by the word "handi-capable". It just muddies everything. What's wrong with calling a spade a spade?


And I DO NOT need someone getting offended on my behalf! The last little while I've been watching stupid videos on youtube and am sickened by some of the comments. Comments like "This is very offensive to people who are confined to wheelchairs. my uncle is a quadrapoligic and i know he would NOT find this funny. you guys are sick for thinking that a crippled person falling down is humorous" Well guess what bitch, it is funny. Why don't you ask your uncle if he finds it funny instead of assuming his brain stopped working when his legs did. 90% of the time it's us gimps who can relate to stuff like this that find it the funniest. And would it be funny if the guy wasn't in a wheelchair? If you laugh at anyone else, but then won't laugh because "oh, the poor cripple" isn't that just like saying "gimps aren't normal people, it's not ok to laugh"? And what's this "confined" shit? I'm not in prison! I could scoot around on my ass if I really wanted, but the chair is a lot easier and faster. I USE a wheelchair, I am NOT a wheelchair, or confined, or stuck, trapped, or condemed to a wheelchair.
I don't mind someone asking if I need help, ONCE. If I say no, than the answer is no, piss off. Don't keep insisting. If I needed help, I'd ask. Although that's better than the people who just grab on to the chair without asking. Try it and you'll find out that just cus my legs don't work doesn't mean my arms don't, so if you want a smack keep it up. And for god sake an elevator doesn't mean "straddle the crippled guys legs". Not too long ago on an elevator I had some . . . lady yapping on a cell phone (one of those idiots that has to talk loud enough that everyone in a 5 mile radius can hear . . . must be long distance) get on the elevator, put one leg on either side of my frount castors and back her large ass into my face. So I turned 90 degrees and ran into her legs. she bloody near fell on me. For christ sakes, where's the brain?
Anyway, that's all I have to say about that. Gimpin' ain't easy!

Rules of Car Show Etiquette (4/18/2011)

Originally posted to Facebook on Monday, April 18, 2011
 

So spring is more or less here, which means the best part of warm weather, gettin that thing you've been dying to drive all winter out and cruising and car shows. That being said, there are some rules to live by, which should be but unfortunitly arn't common sence. So I bring you . . .
Rules of Car Show Etiquette
BE RESPECTFUL!
Look, but dont touch (without permission, that is). No collector wants a well intentioned, but overly enthusiastic, show-goer smudging or scratching their property.
BE RESPECTFUL!
Avoid wearing a lot of jewelry on your arms and hands. Rings, watches, and bracelets can easily scratch a car. It’s also possible to accidentally scratch a car with belt buckles, zippers, and buttons.
BE RESPECTFUL!
Do not to eat or drink around the cars on display. No one wants to worry about sticky sodas or greasy, ketchup-laden burgers landing on or around their precious car.
BE RESPECTFUL!
BE RESPECTFUL!
Keep your pets at home! Your dog could care less and nobody wants anyone peeing on their tires!
BE RESPECTFUL!
Bikes, Skateboards and Strollers are a scary thing to see near someone’s pride and joy. Strollers are sometimes necessary but remember to keep them as far from display vehicles as possible. Bikes and Skateboards should be kept away from show vehicle areas. This also includes wheelchairs. I know, nobody chooses to be in one, but remember to be careful.
BE RESPECTFUL!
Keep an eye on your children. By all means, bring them with you and share the hobby with them, but teach them to be careful as they enjoy the thrill and atmosphere of attending a show. By following your example, they’ll soon grow to be conscientious enthusiasts themselves.
BE RESPECTFUL!
Feel free to ask questions! People love to talk about their cars and you might catch an interesting story or tip.
BE RESPECTFUL!
Don't start telling the owner what they did wrong or what you would have done different. It all goes back to the respect thing.
BE RESPECTFUL!
It may be "just an old car" to you, but but somebody put a lot of time, money, or both into it. Who knows, maybe that original condition unrestored '62 Ford was bought by the owners father brand new and passed down to the current owner when the father passed away. RESPECT!
BE RESPECTFUL!
Usually, garbage cans are provided. Use them!

Did I mention, BE RESPECTFUL!!!

Near Death and New Life (5/23/2010)

Originally posted to Facebook on Sunday, May 23, 2010
 
Hey y'all, just a quick what's up with me in case someone cares. Despite the odds, I am still alive. About 2 weeks ago they figured I was headed for the morgue. I went into the vermilion hospital Saturday night, may 8 and demanded to be transfered to camrose ASAP as vermilion seems to think all my problems are in my head and self induced. Was extremely dehydrated and unable to eat/drink anythink without throwing it up 2 seconds later. I vaugly remember being in camrose and then don't remember much until the following Friday. I woke up in icu at the university hospital in edmonton and was informed that they had performed surgery Wednesday and again Friday and had removed about 2 feet of dead intestine. I also learned that I should be dead. Not yet, I have things yet to do. I had a tube sticking out of my gut. Over the next few days I recovered amazingly quickly and awaited (hopefully) a final surgery, lucky 13. I also learned that the docs at the rah who did the initial and 5 additional illiostomy surgeries f'd up royally and kept trying to cover their ass. Tuesday I had the last surgery and they created a proper ostomy. By the next day I was off the icu and on to a ward. Now, less than a week later I'm nearly ready to go home again and live for the first time in 3 years. But, for a few days anyway, I'll be on ward 3E2, room 18 at the U of A and would love some company, so if anyone's in the area feel free to drop by. Take care,
The new improved Chris Repp