My mornings all too often go like this:
Wake up from dreams in which I can walk, to find myself stuck in bed in a body that doesn't work, often overheated. Scream in horror at what my life has become. Look at clock. Think I've got half an hour to relax and wake up before the carers arrive.
Fall asleep.
Wake to the sound of carers coming in. Want to scream in frustration but can't because of how they would react.
Spend the next 45 mins whimpering while I'm rolled around, washed, dressed etc.and moved into a wheelchair. If I'm lucky they talk kindly, more often they stand over me in silence, creeping me out, while I struggle to get my hands working well enough to brush my teeth. If I'm more unlucky they chat to each other over my head, or bombard me with questions (what do I want for breakfast? Do I want the window open? ) while I've got a toothbrush in my mouth and can't speak. Sometimes the lifting into the wheelchair using a stand-aid goes wrong and I end up hanging on desperately gasping for breath unable to speak while they stand over me saying "What do you want us to do?" and I want to say one of:
- Use your initiative.
-How am I supposed to know? This hasn't happened to me before.
- Just kill me now and put me out of my misery.
There have been times when I'm sobbing and crying through all this, but they are on a schedule and haven't got time to stop and say something kind and reassuring, it's just bish bash bosh job done see you at lunchtime and they're gone. Sometimes they say things like "Have a good morning" (like I can) or "You take care now" (Like I can do that either). All the time I'm putting on my nice act, saying please and thankyou nicely, like a good little girl, despite often wanting to yell at them for being clumsy, heartless, thoughtless or whatever else they seem to me to be.
After an hour I've woken up and cooled down and my arms and hands have loosened up, and eventually I get stuck into doing something, and the next thing I know is it's lunchtime and they're back.
This is not life, it's just existence, and it sucks. I've swallowed and bottled up so much that I'm going to explode soon.
I need a hug. I need some sort of reason to carry on. The ramp may be nice, but it doesn't solve the problem.