The ceiling fan in our bedroom broke not too long ago.

This was frustrating on several levels.  One being that the ceiling fan was fairly new.  Secondly, the fan is remote controlled.

Remote controls = easier life for Tom and Sheila.

With the remote, Tom can turn the fan on and off throughout the time he’s in bed and regulate his own temperature level.  Mucho easier than having to make Sheila get up several times through the night to adjust the fan levels.

Anyhow – at first we thought maybe just the battery in the remote had died.  So, I went to the grocery store to buy a battery.  But, of course its some crazy type of battery that not just any grocery store would carry… So, I have to stop by another store to find the flipping battery.  Go figure, when I get home and install the new battery, that doesn’t fix the fan.

No.  That would of been waaaay to easy.

So, we sit back and stare at the fan.  I google the fan to see if it has any known issues, with no real luck.  We contemplate the next step.

And we think, and we think… we don’t have the money to replace the fan.  We don’t have the funds to buy any replacement parts.  We don’t even know what to look at to see if it needs to be replaced.

Finally, Tom and I ask TNR to check out the fan and see if he notices any issues with it.  He looks it up and down, without taking it apart, and doesn’t see anything noticeably wrong with it.

He stares at it, and stares at it.  Tom stares.  I stare.

TNR walks over to the wall, and flips the light switch to the ‘on’ position.

Uhm.

Yeah.

Amazingly, the fan works now.  Someone had turned the switch off.  I don’t know who did it… since the fan is worked by remote, we never flip the switch anymore.

Go figure, huh?  We all felt incredibly stupid to the fact that none of us thought to check the switch sooner.

But, at least it was a cheap fix!

I’ve been thinking about trying to continue The Story for a while now.  But, I’ve been struggling with it quite a bit.

See, I’m at the point where things started happening too quickly to remember which came first.

(Which makes me ask, “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”  Why, you ask?  I have no idea.)

I could stumble through.  Most people wouldn’t know the difference.

But I would know.  I would realize that something happened between ‘this moment’ and ‘that moment’.  And, that bothers me.

I don’t know why.

I sit and stare at the document opened up on my computer screen, and try to write down the words.  But, then I press the backspace until I’m back to where I started.

It kind of drives me crazy.

I realize I don’t have to put it all down in order immediately.  I could go back and edit it later, shoving the right pieces in the right spots.

But, I don’t.

Backspace, backspace, backspace.

I close out the document.

I consider working on it again another day…

And I don’t get any further.

I went and visited my future camera again today.  It was heart wrenching to leave the Nikon D90 in the store, but it had to be done.

Alas, I have less than no money.  If being in the red is seen as a negative balance, and being in the black means you have money to spend, I’m sooo far in the red that I’m the prettiest baby pink color you’ve ever seen.

Tom had to go back to Best Buy today to return a purchase that didn’t work out the way he had anticipated.  He strongly urged me to stay away from the cameras so I would not leave the store in a mild depression.

But, I could not stay away.  I had to touch it.  I had to caress it.  I had to whisper sweet nothings into its memory card slot.  I tenderly and lovingly played with its settings.  Aah, its like we’re two peas in a pod, this Nikon D90 and I.  It fits my hand like a glove… better yet, it is an extension of my arm!

Tom suggested that I give the other cameras on the display a little loving, also.  How rude would it be to leave them completely untouched?!  So, I picked up each one gently and tried to communicate with them like I talk to the D90.  Sadly, they had no where close to the same feel, or sensation in my hands.  Its like they tried to communicate with me, but I could not hear what they had to say… like an angsty teenager trying to make a point to their parents.

I had to go back to the D90.  It suites me.  I suite it.  We are a magical pair.  We are destined to be together.  One day… one day in the distant distant future… perhaps the day before Armageddon, I hope to own this camera.  And I promise to get some kick butt shots of the end of the world when it happens.

I’ve been thinking about how to describe SCI difficulties with bowels without becoming too graphic.  Honestly, I don’t know if there’s a way.  I personally don’t have a problem with being graphic to explain these details.  Yet, I feel that Tom would… and, truly, I wouldn’t blame him at the least.

That being said, I don’t believe I’ll go into the ’step by step’ regarding bowel issues with a SCI.  I’ll just say that there is a routine involving a suppository that must be kept in order to avoid accidents.

The process that Tom and I go through has been nicknamed ‘Red Circle Night’ because I mark the scheduled days on the calendar with a red circle.  We also call it ‘Program’.

The act of ‘Red Circle Night’ is not enjoyable for Tom in any way.  He hates it.  With all of his being.  Actually, I don’t like it either.

I recall when Tom was in rehab down in Columbia, when the need came about for me to learn how to manage Tom’s program, I literally cried.  I was so upset that I was going to have to take on this task, knowing that Tom’s (and my) dignity was going to have to be set aside during these time periods.

Tom’s program lasts two hours on the nights we have it scheduled.  Its not a hands on process throughout those two hours.  Its a lot of timed intervals, watching the clock, and waiting.

We’ve just decided to change our previous schedule.  We used to do this process every third night.  Now we’ve decided to give a set schedule of Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday a whirl and see how it works out.

Not that you’re super interested, but I’ll keep you posted.

Not being a quadriplegic, I can’t honestly say, but I would assume the worst part of a spinal cord injury would be the lack of bowel and bladder control.

I feel that if these two functions could be returned to those with a SCI, their quality of life would increase dramatically.

Without going into too many details, for Tom’s privacy, I will say that these two functions basically control his life.

Lets touch on bladder issues today. (Not that we’ve had any major bladder issues recently, mind you.)

We’ve been through multiple catheter issues, some that actually involve having to make a trip to the ER.  I don’t blame those in the medical community for thinking that we’re crazy when we call an ambulance if Tom’s catheter isn’t working correctly.  Very few people realize that, although the catheter issue itself isn’t life threatening, the reactions that Tom’s body has to the catheter not functioning could be very harmful.

Autonomic Dysreflexia, or AD, is something that most quadriplegics hope they never encounter.  The quick and simple analogy I use to explain AD is something like this:

Ya know when ya stub your toe, and it hurts?  When stubbing your toe, a signal goes up your leg, through the spinal cord, to your brain.  Your brain says, ‘way to go, slick, and cuz you’re stupid enough to stub your toe, I’m gunna send this signal back down there to make you realize you’re an idiot’.  When the signal goes back down to your toe, it quickly stops off at the heart and tells it to pump harder to get blood down to the stubbed toe – cuz as far as it knows, the toe has been cut off and it needs to heal pronto.  The signal finishes its trip down to the toe and you holler out in pain.  The blood makes it down to the toe, realizes it doesn’t really need to get there so quickly, and slows back down to normal.

Tom’s spinal cord is damaged, remember?  So, if Tom stubs his toe, the message makes it to his brain, but the message is in German and Tom’s brain doesn’t understand German.  Tom’s brain kinda freaks out.  It knows from the urgency of the German speak that there is a problem, but the brain isn’t quite sure where its at… or how bad it is.  So, the brain sends out messages to several areas below Tom’s injury level, hoping that it finds the spot that the German toe was trying to address.  The signal stops at the heart also, and tells the heart to get beating cuz there’s a problem somewhere.  Heart rate goes up.  Blood pressure goes up.  As soon as the signal finally gets to the toe, the brain reacts and slows down the heart again – since the toe isn’t missing or anything. Problem eventually solved.

Now, imagine your full bladder. You know, the one where you dance around until you get to the bathroom? Now, imagine the line to the bathroom is soooo long that you’re just not gunna be able to make it there. But, there is no other option available to relieve yourself. You’re miserable, right? If you hold it in too long, your blood pressure will actually rise because its trying to clue your body in, telling it that there’s a biiiig problem and you need to fix it now.

If Tom’s biiiiig problem doesn’t get fixed promptly, his blood pressure rises too. But, Tom’s blood pressure doesn’t have the same ‘mellow out’ switch that our bodies have – its been damaged from the SCI. Until whatever the situation is that made Tom’s blood pressure rise is resolved, his BP can continue to rise.

It is plausible to have a heart attack or stroke from high blood pressure.

Do you see the crazy issue here?

If Tom’s catheter is messed up so badly that we have to go to the ER, we are going because the situation needs to be resolved as quickly as possible so Tom’s blood pressure doesn’t start shooting through the roof, putting him at risk for a stroke or heart attack. All this could happen just because he couldn’t tinkle… strange, huh?

Tomorrow – we’ll attempt a socially acceptable post regarding bowels…