I had been battling severe spasms in my legs for several weeks at that point, and no one had a resolution solution. The occupational therapist had no explanation, although she thought my makeshift seat belt was a brilliant and creative idea. On the other hand, my physical therapist recommended I speak with my doctor about attaining more muscle relaxers. However, while trying to ease the violent spasticity in my legs, I was unwilling to request more medication, as I feel pills should be a last resort.
I was dealing with these violent muscle spasms on what felt like an hourly basis, painfully marring my midsection. With every move, I tightened the seat belt to prepare for an uncontrollable muscle convulsion that could launch me onto the floor. These muscle eruptions slammed my body into my office desk and kitchen table, causing bruises of blue and green across my chest. Finally, I got to where I could feel when the twitches might happen and could prepare myself not to tip out of my chair.
The exercises for therapy were beneficial, exhausting, and challenging to do in the gravity of the land and took a lot of time. Moving to Florida was a tremendous ordeal as this transition would be for life, meaning, foremost, finding all new doctors and arranging transportation. Then I needed the doctor’s note for paratransit and the paratransit to get the doctor’s note; what a conundrum. I also needed to find a grocery store and make many phone calls to find essential businesses and other necessities.
I looked forward to sleeping that night, no matter how restless I was, as exhaustion filled every inch of my body. When extremely tired, my speech slurred as my tongue felt as big as a bratwurst, which caused communication complications. My muscles were weaker, and my thinking slowed as fatigue caught and crushed me like stepping on a bug, making sleep an urgent priority. Finally, I was so tired that I slowly rolled into my office and turned off the computer and lights to get a much-needed mind-rebooting slumber.
My spasticity slowed as I laid my head on my desk on a pillow, yet I could not get quite comfortable as my body felt like it was buzzing. These feelings led me to loosen my seat belt slightly, as it was too snug after having it tightly around my waist all day. I wrongfully assumed this experimental webbed belt could hold me if I had a violent twitch or a vicious twerk. Suddenly, a ferocious leg convulsion threw me over the side of my chair making me hang six inches off the ground by the loose belt.
So, at 3 AM, I hung by the webbed belt, quickly scanning the dark area, filled with terror, trying to find my options. The seat belt and my body weight squeezed me, making breathing an uphill battle that caused me to panic. I tried to use my hands to climb up the desk drawers like a ladder but was unsuccessful. My desk, filing cabinet, and a wall gave no allowance for movement and no way to escape this prison from which I dangled.
As they say, I was quite literally hanging by a thread, though in this case, it was webbing tied as a poorly executed seat belt. So, I had many thoughts running through my head, uselessly trying to encourage me to get back into my wheelchair completely. Struggling to breathe, I knew the air was free, but the effort was not, and my breathing became more laborious. Be sure to return next week and learn how I changed my prickly predicament, what injuries I gained, and what happened next.
Oh, how wrong I was to loosen the seat belt.
Scott's MS Life 