Dealing with unexpected challenges of entering the world of the disabled

A few months ago, I was walking 4,000 steps a day using long strides. Then, one day as I was opening my refrigerator, the handle broke in two and I crashed onto the kitchen floor. An X-ray revealed a compression fraction in the L1 disk of my spine. This was the last thing I needed. I already have bone-on-bone contact in my left hip that causes me pain when I try to walk. Given my fractured spine and a bad hip, I am now confined to a wheelchair and require a caregiver to take me to the dining room for all my meals with friends. The rest of the time I’m in my recliner.

That’s not all! My eyesight is getting worse as a result of macular degeneration. Today, for the first time, I had to use a magnifying glass to read the paper. What a bummer! I have also been diagnosed with severe hearing loss to the point that, even with state-of-the-art hearing aids, I have trouble understanding the people across the dining room table in a noisy dining room.

I have officially entered the world of the disabled, the handicapped, and the dependent. This a whole new world, like a new country, where I need to learn the language, the customs, the available resources, as well as the prejudices. I will be 97 this year. Up until now, I have had a magical life with no major health issues. My current ailments are just part of the territory of living this long. Trying to accept these new infirmities is not easy. The image I have of myself has not yet changed from an independent, take charge, outgoing, mobile, and fun person. I have turned into a dependent, homebound, vain person — not liking my new image in a wheelchair.

Perhaps I need to turn things around by trying to write this transformative narrative by changing my language. Maybe “disabled” is not all that I am. I am still the same person I always have been, but currently with some disabilities. This shift in perception limits the negative aspects by not taking away from my basic personality. I am still a writer; I still do research. I have stimulating conversations with friends. I read, think, and can tell jokes about my new predicament.

I’d like to take this moment to share a joke: So, this woman goes to the doctor and says, “I have broken my arm in two places. What should I do?” The doctor replies, “Don’t go back to those places.” This column is my passport for entry into that new world that includes some short-term memory issues. I’ll get up from my chair to do something; then I forget what it was I wanted to do… oh well.

The rest of my story continues. Our White Sands doctor, Dr. Sadaf Najand, prescribed different pain medications, all of which gave me unpleasant side effects. I can only take Tylenol, which doesn’t do much for the six hours until the next dose. Even more than pain, I mind the constant feeling of exhaustion, and low motivation, with everything being an effort.

As far as my pain — it is debilitating. A friend of mine researched pain clinics in my vicinity and found the Relive-You Center for Advanced Pain Management. Their clinic is located at 8901 Activity Road, San Diego 92126; 858-345-4646. It is about 30 minutes north of La Jolla. In the front of a welcoming new building, the sign states its mission: to release people from pain. Dr. Brittany Grovey and her husband Dr. Gemayel Lee run this facility with their professional staff. They both have an MD from UCSF with fellowships from UC San Diego in chronic pain and are board-certified members of the American Board of Anesthesiology. I took comfort in knowing that I am in competent hands.

Upon arrival, my friend and I were led into Grovey’s examining room, where she checked where my pain seemed to be the worst. She concluded that she would inject a numbing agent into the femoral nerve joint. Within minutes after the injection, the pain disappeared for a couple of hours. This was a test to determine whether she indeed hit the correct nerve to be numbed…Success!

At my next visit, I am scheduled to have both Grovey and Lee numb my femoral nerve for a more permanent solution. I am grateful to have lived as long as I have — to be able to see and experience the many advances in science and medicine. Hopefully, by the time you are reading this, I will be walking again!