The cot sides

I didn’t just wake up one day and find myself in a hospital bed with cot sides and carers. It was a gradual process of decline over years. My muscles used to lose function without much warning, from my viewpoint without any. It was when I could still walk and drive that it first happened. I was driving on a motorway! I need to tell that story separately. That incident stopped me driving. Then months later a collapse happened while I was walking, I just crumpled like a rag doll onto the concrete path, then another time down behind a toilet and even into the bath! That stopped me having baths. Gradually my ability to walk and safety factors meant I was limited by the doctor and nurse first to a reclining chair then to a hospital bed.

Then came the day that led to bed sides, they call them cot sides. By this time, I had daily carers as my general ability to function had declined. Not all of them were helpful. At this point I only had a diagnosis of ME, which is really a non-diagnosis. It means they have ruled other things out. Lots of people either have that diagnosis or know people with it. As I now know ME is the least of my problems, it’s no surprise I never found anyone with the same symptoms.

One day a particularly unhelpful carer came, whose husband had a diagnosis of ME, he’d actually been exposed to organophosphates, which gave him the ME type symptoms. She decided I needed encouraging to get well, a kick up the pants, as that had worked for him. So, she sat my bed up to nearly 90 degrees, flung a wet flannel on my chest said, “you start washing your face and I’ll get a bowl of water for the rest of you.” I objected, warning her my muscles were very weak and I had sudden collapses. If she’d read my care plan, she would have known all of that.

By the time she returned I had collapsed, I was head first out of bed all my weight on my head pressing on the edge of a wooden tray between my bed and the wall. Only the narrow gap between my bed and the wall stopped me falling further. I was in agony and calling for help. But the collapses immobilise my main muscles, I am effectively paralysed in that condition. No amount of pain and discomfort, danger or fear can overcome it, time is the only thing that changes it. They can last from 10 to 30 minutes.

The carer went into panic mode, she leapt onto the bed, no mean feat for a large lady. Still totally unaware of my limitations she hauled me up a little and I slumped back harder onto the tray edge. Realising I was too heavy for her to manage on her own, she rushed out to a neighbouring house where her supervisor was giving care to a neighbour. Returning after what felt like an eternity to me, I now had two large ladies leap onto my bed and heave me up. Feeling they had succeeded they let go, I slumped onto one lady’s large bosom. They lifted me again, I slumped onto the other ladys’ bosom. I don’t think they were quick learners because this happened a few times before they understood I was like a rag doll and they lay me down. They were soft pillows, but my head was at some awkward angles.

I have often wished a camera was filming the whole event, it must have looked hilarious. Their faces must have been a picture. I had no idea what was happening until I felt my head cushioned on each soft breast. Even though it’s funny in hind sight, it was not funny at the time. Being like a rag doll, my muscles and joints were easily pulled in ways they were not meant to go. I was so relieved when they eventually laid me down flat.

Two things came of that day. I refused to have that carer back and cot sides were fitted to my bed. I still have those even though I have learnt to be cautious and my current carers know me well. Sometimes safety features come after we have been hurt. This carer was an exception. I have only had one other who so completely ignored my care plan and caused me pain and difficulty in all the many years I have received care. Carers are mainly really careful and helpful.

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