Locked-in Syndrome Essay
During the first 15 minute, I conveyed the message to my partner through blinking an eye. I informed my partner about what I was undergoing. At first, I told him that it was my wish to live like other people. For instance, I felt that my brain is okay, though I could not perform any duty. Also, through blinking, I explained my condition to my partner.
During the exercise, I had several feelings. At first, I had a problem while breathing. In this case, I experienced difficult while trying to breathe in and out. I also experienced a problem while trying to swallow food. As a result, I was assisted by my partner to take food. In addition, I experienced a problem while salivating. I also experienced a problem of abnormality of the voice. In this case, I experienced difficulties while trying to communicate because I could only blink my eye.
There are several things that I wanted from my partner. At first, I needed some form of physical therapy. In this case, I wanted my partner to use mechanical force to facilitate my movements around. In addition, I needed nutritional care from my partner. Locked-in Syndrome Essay.It was difficult to feed myself, so my partner had to feed me. I also needed comfort care from my partner. At that 15 minute period, I needed someone to take care of me because I was too week to take care of myself. I also needed speech assistance from my partner. I was unable to communicate except blinking my eyes. Therefore my partner had to act as the speech therapist. Lastly, I needed my friend to assist me from developing systematic complications such as respiratory infections.
This is the story of Nick, who has lived with locked-in syndrome since 2000. His narrative is interspersed with information on his condition and a commentary on the clinical and ethical issues that arise in locked-in syndrome.
This is a story of my experiences since a terrible accident. I started the story in hospital and then added to it over the years. I had my accident on the rugby field on 29 July 2000 about 2 00 pm, just before the ball was thrown into a line-out. It just felt like a simple case of concussion (everything went blurry).Locked-in Syndrome Essay. I staggered to the sideline, the coach asked me “What’s wrong”? He said I told him I just felt sick and to put me back on the field in 10 minutes. Then I collapsed and was rushed to hospital (unconscious) in an ambulance with the staff struggling to keep me alive.
After three days, doctors thought I was all right and were going to send me home. Then it started: I nearly collapsed again, taking a shower (I became extremely dizzy and lost my balance). For days, the specialists didn’t know what was wrong with me. My girlfriend at the time went mad at the specialists to do something. Locked-in Syndrome Essay.
After six days of going in and out of seizures, after what seemed like all the tests known to man, they said I had had several strokes of the brain stem and then one major one, which left me with the extremely rare condition known as locked-in syndrome (box 1), not able to do anything.
Words can’t describe the situation I have been left in—but this is as close as I can get it: an extremely horrific experience that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. The incredibly immense frustration levels at times have eased slightly over the years because of physical and health gains I have made.made.
If dying is as painless and peaceful as just drifting off to sleep, then there’s plenty of really very frustrating times that at a particular point I wished I wasn’t here any more.
Still, with mind and memory at 100% (sometimes I wonder if it’s a good thing or not), external feeling 100%, internal feeling about 30%, although just after the accident I had no feeling. All my senses are normal, if not enhanced (sight and hearing). I’m just left trapped inside this body. All my muscles wouldn’t work. Basically I couldn’t talk, which went first; then I couldn’t walk, eat, or excrete.
Through a tremendous amount of hard work and perseverance I have gained ever so slowly since my accident and still continue to make gains now (they seem huge gains to others, but they seem far too slow for me—I’ve got to live through it all), with the much appreciated help and support of others and a copious amount of extremely hard work and sometimes pain.
It felt like I was in a really bad nightmare constantly for about the first three months. I could only just hear (I couldn’t even open my eyes or breathe by myself); without them even knowing that I still could hear, the doctors and specialists in front of me said to my mum that I would die. They even asked my mum if she wanted them to turn the life support machine off after a few days.
After my coma, it took a long time before I could even open only one eye. For a couple of months, when I could open both my eyes, I would see double and had to wear an eye patch sometimes. For about four months I couldn’t use a call bell. So if something was wrong or I was in pain or I needed something, I had absolutely no way of attracting anyone’s attention.
Early on after my coma the muscles in my body were incredibly tight. I couldn’t even rest the left side of my face on a pillow, even while I was lying on my left side. An itch is completely unbearable and incredibly frustrating because I can’t scratch it. Now it’s slightly better because I can move my hand a bit, but it’s still incredibly frustrating. I had to wear a mouth guard constantly for about the first nine months, because my muscles were so tight that my teeth would grind. They still do sometimes. Locked-in Syndrome Essay.
I thought of suicide often (mainly when alone in bed at night). I never had enough courage then to go through with it. Even if I wanted to do it now I couldn’t, it’s physically impossible. I just have to deal with it the best I can. I guess this situation I was left in is as close as I could get to it. Before Hanmer [Hanmer Springs is the location of a rehabilitation unit in New Zealand] I used to think “What is this life for?” Sometimes now I definitely think just that. It’s too difficult and extremely frustrating for me, most people just don’t know how to communicate with me.
Even my case manager at the Accident Compensation Commission at the time said in the same room that I was in (my eyes were still closed), that “even if I did live, I wouldn’t want to anyway.” One specialist told me to get used to the wheelchair, because I’ll be in one for the rest of my life. What do they really know? They only know what they read in textbooks (box 2).
Even a very simple task like getting my teeth cleaned is a mission because I can’t voluntarily open my mouth for a long period of time, and I can’t hold my breath. My natural reaction is to bite down hard on the toothbrush if anything other than teeth are touched with the brush. I also have to swallow all the toothpaste because I can’t voluntarily spit it out either. Not being able to swallow on cue can become immensely frustrating.
When you’re like this (despite having 24 hour care) it’s an incredibly lonely existence at times. It’s amazing how much time I have to think about things now since the accident. There’s heaps of thoughts that I don’t bother even expressing.
I talk by using a transparent Perspex board (about A2 size) with the letters of the alphabet spaced out on it (identically on both sides). The person holds it up between our eyes (about 800 mm apart). I spell out each letter of my sentence using my eyes (similar to a typewriter), with the other person guessing each letter I’m starring at, until I’ve spelt out a whole sentence—extremely laborious! It’s also very difficult (almost impossible) to express yourself or be sarcastic. When the person doesn’t understand what I’m trying to spell, it rapidly becomes immensely frustrating for me, and the frustration very quickly turns into anger, mostly because the spell board is my only method of explaining it (box 3).
Some time in 2001 I had to meet with my neurologist again. He wasn’t at all positive (telling me bluntly), “Whatever gains you have made to date, they’re all the gains you’ll ever make.” After being home about four months, I had to see one specialist who, ages ago, said I wouldn’t get any better (he basically said I’d never move or talk), he asked me to show him what I could do and say now, so I did. He apologised and took back everything he had said. I gave him the finger, and the carer and I left. Locked-in Syndrome Essay.
I’ve always thought, fuck what they think and say—or I would have been dead at the start. Most specialists and doctors with whom I’ve dealt since my accident have been so extremely negative.
My family, friends, and carers have been so great to me in my recovery. Heaps of people have helped me in some way or other. Another friend has taken me to most of my old rugby team’s games in 2002, 2003, and 2004. All past support was immensely appreciated. I don’t think I could’ve made it this far without the support of my friends, carers, and family. I have met a lot of people since my accident. Some have become friends; some have become great friends.
I only live for hope of recovery now. I can’t live like this for about another 40 years or so and will not (box 4).
From having to put in a gigantic effort to make just a sound, I can now say heaps of words, count, pronounce about four carers’ names relatively clearly, sometimes stringing some words together when lying down and relaxed.
To be really honest, I would erratically and uncontrollably without warning literally “shit myself.” Believe me, when you’re 30 it’s totally degrading. And nowhere more so than in the public gym, in front of people. Locked-in Syndrome Essay. It definitely changes my mood extremely quickly when it happens, as you can imagine. The specialists even wanted to operate and give me a colostomy bag… stuff that.
Some people say how determined and stubborn I am, but to cope with this and to have hope of full recovery you have to be. I could just moan constantly and deteriorate by staying in bed, but I want the old Nick back again, really badly.
It is definitely a crazy, mixed-up world. I’m just glad to still be alive—most of the time anyway. I accepted the fact that the accident happened, long ago. Shit definitely happens; I just have to make the most of each day in my journey towards recovery.
Most of the time (when living like this) frustration levels are pushed to the max and eventually I explode. Sometimes I wish I had died in the ambulance on the way to hospital. It would’ve been a lot less frustrating, for me anyway. Locked-in Syndrome Essay.