Eyes Wide Open

A Perspective From Within

Every Lesson Forms a New Scar


There are so many residual effects to a spinal cord injury (SCI as I will now refer to it) and I was definitely starting to feel them. Like I’ve said in the past, the fact that I can’t walk is not the only thing that I have to overcome.  Some crazy physical stuff was starting to happen; things that I never ever would have imagined. Prior to my injury, I quit smoking, worked out with a trainer 4 times per week, didn’t eat meat and had an incredibly healthy diet. Fast food and junk food were never part of my vocabulary. Earlier in the year I had a full physical that came back with glowing results. My father had many health issues that terribly decreased his quality if life.  I wanted to make sure that I did whatever I could to not end up like him. Well…this was the start of some serious shit that will directly affect my quality of life, so much for best-laid plans.

First off, I had what is called a Foley catheter in. Anyone who’s ever been in the hospital knows what this is. For most people, the catheter is used for patients who cannot or should not get out of bed to pee. In my case, the muscles that control my bladder were paralyzed and the nerves that control the sensation that tells me that my bladder is full are not able to find their way down my spinal cord. What this means is complete loss of bladder function. I’m not sure why, but that thought really never occurred to me. I guess no one told me or maybe I just didn’t understand. Either way, I was screwed. I was so consumed by the fact that my legs and hands didn’t move, that bladder function, or lack there of, was not even on my radar. After all, I had a Foley in to take care of business so it wasn’t a concern of mine. Well, a reality check was about to happen. Shelly, Dr. Green’s clinical nurse broke the news to me that the Foley catheter had to come out. Great, so what’s the catch? Well, I will have to be catheterized by someone, and eventually that someone was going to have to be me. Also, if that weren’t bad enough, it would have to be every 4 hours, or Q4 as they call it. This was one of those “what you talking bout Willis” moments.  Seriously? Someone has to empty my bladder for me? I can just kiss any sleep goodbye. It was bad enough that I had to be turned every 2 hours, now I will have to have my bladder emptied every 4. At this point, it would be easier to tell you about the functions that I had left rather than what I have lost. The list would certainly be shorter. This really sucks. And it’s not the end of the shit storm called my life that makes me so totally screwed. There were other unimaginable things looming on the horizon that I would have to deal with that were even worse.

Next up on the SCI  list of residual effects is neurological pain, or nerve pain as most call it. My legs started to feel like there was a major electrical storm running through them. For your convenience, I’ve compiled a list of words to illustrate what nerve pain can feel like:







The nerve pain varied in intensity. At first it started out like mild yet bothersome pins and needles and quickly escalated to something much worse. At first I thought this could be a good thing.  Maybe the nerves were firing, or whatever they do, and my legs would start to work, which means my body was starting to heal. I quickly found out that this typically happens to most people with a SCI. I wasn’t special. Some divine miracle wasn’t happening to me, quite the contrary.

Next is probably one of the worst feelings that started to manifest it. I think it’s called phantom limbs, but actually, no one could really give me a good name for it.

I first experienced this while sitting in the pink chair that I spoke about in an earlier post. After I was removed from the chair and placed on the bed, my legs felt as if they were still in a chair-like position. When this first happened, I tried to ignore it but when your brain is telling you that you are still sitting in a chair, but your eyes are telling you that you lying down, it’s pretty hard to brush off. When my legs started to feel like they were glued together, or better yet, like a mermaid tail, I started to freak.  Kim was there to witness my total meltdown. Uncontrollable crying. Hyperventilation. How was I going to make it through rehab if my legs felt like were glued together? Kim knew right away that this was not one those “Mary, things are going to he ok” consoling talks. This called for a nurse and some pills. Kim had them page Shelly. I wanted her to page Dr. Kevorkian. Kim won out since Kevorkian actually died last year. Shelly came to talk me down. The double dose of Ativan did better than any talk could do. After around 20 minutes I started to calm down. The feeling was still there, but the high level anxiety dissipated. I slept.

At that point I asked myself if there was an end to what seemed to be a very cruel punishment. Being paralyzed was enough agony to endure. I felt like insult is being added to my injury.

Muscle spasms. These are a treat. A muscle spasm is an involuntary contraction of a muscle or in my case, a group of muscles.  Everyone kept asking me if I was getting muscle spasms yet. At the time, I hadn’t experienced them so I thought that maybe I was lucky and wouldn’t get them. No such luck. It was just delayed onset. Let me tell you, they are just awful. They can occur at any time, start suddenly and usually resolve quickly, but are often very painful. You body seems to tighten almost too the point that the muscles could tear. At least that’s what it felt like to me.  My muscle spasms seemed to be brought on by just about any movement. The nurse could turn the light on in my room and I would start to spasm. They are unbearable but thankfully they were quick. The spasms at times contorted my body and made me look like a complete and total idiot…adding to my already glamorous look.

2 thoughts on “Every Lesson Forms a New Scar

  1. Mary,
    You are so blessed to have Kim and Ross in your life. I know there are many others, but they seem to be able to read you like a book. Prayers are coming your way daily from many of us and many who don’t even know you.

    You have opened my eyes to so many things about paralysis. Thank you for doing this blog. It makes me appreciate the little things we have that make our lives so less complicated. Be strong. It’s a long road, but becoming more independent will make you realize the progress you have achieved.

  2. HI Mary, WOW this is an amazing blog. So many of us take a lot of hese things for granted. I hope you continue to get stronger. You are an amazing inspiration to so many of us!! Thinking of you!


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