Gimp – A Word Not A Condition

Two Certain Things About Being a Gimp:

• Each of us wonders how or why it had to happen to us.
• If you haven’t experienced it, you will probably never fully understand what it’s all about.

For me it happened gradually and nobody connected the dots. In my 30’s I was on “the rack” to stretch my spine. The symptoms went away and the whole thing was forgotten. In my 50’s I reached my “clumsy stage.” I was falling quite a lot, but I was very good at the drop and roll technique, and acquired only minor bruises. Finally the day came when I fell and ended up with a plate and 10 pins in my ankle. Three years later I fell and broke my other ankle. As if that wasn’t enough, I broke my leg two years after that. I would have broken my ankle again had it not been for the plate. Obviously I was an accident waiting to happen.

MY GIMP LEG

As my clumsiness progressed I began having problems with my hip and by age 60 I had it replaced with one of the new ceramic types. After a very short period of recovery things went very sour and my gimp leg kept turning in. I couldn’t maintain a normal position (the direction was the opposite of what one should exhibit post operation). For months the orthopod kept saying it was muscular and would be OK with physio. Neither my physiotherapist nor I could see any change for the better. In fact I was now spasming throughout my body.

After a parade of many specialists I was sent for an MRI. Lo and behold, there was a reason for my clumsiness and spasms. I had cervical myelopathy due to osteoarthritis. In no time at all I had a cervical decompression (C3-6) with the accompanying grafts and plates. Six months later I went back under the knife and had a posterior laminectomy (C3-7) with rods. Those two stints resulted in me spending about 14 weeks between acute care and rehab.

DETERMINED TO WALK

I never lost my hope, sense of humour and the will to push myself and my gimp leg to the limit with dogged determination. Throughout the Rehabilitation process I was blessed with physios who pushed me and helped me believe in myself. In turn at each stay there came a time when I had to convince them that I was capable of more. In my first rehab sessions it was sugested that I would remain basically wheelchair bound, that two quad canes would be my limit, and those for short distances only. Fortunately they went along with my insistence that I could do more. I left using one single point cane for short distances and a manual wheelchair.

[flv:bob-salzman-wheelchair.flv 620 492]

In the second stages of rehab the prognosis was more positive and interesting. The initial thought was that I would be in an electric wheelchair, with my manual wheelchair as backup. I had my manual wheelchair brought in and never did try a power wheelchair. Again the staff were pleasantly surprised at my progress, and I was given a provisional exit date, based on two quad canes. This time I was less than diplomatic in my determination to progress beyond that. I let it be known that the least acceptable level of achievement would be the level I attained the first time around, even though my body was now throwing in new complications. They worked with me and my gimp leg until I reached the previous level. I went home a happy camper.

BELIEVE IN YOURSELF

From these two experiences the main lesson I learned was that I had to believe in myself and believe that I could do more tomorrow than I was doing today. I then had to convince the staff that I was ready, willing and able to extend myself. To their credit they stuck with me even though I went back to my room from the gym on a stretcher more than once. I think that that goes to the point that if you don’t believe in yourself, no one else will believe in you.

My thoughts of the process from proper diagnosis to my second discharge are that the various staffs are truly dedicated to their careers and have the best interests of the patient (i.e. me!) in mind all the time. Was there tough love? You bet. Was there support? Darn right! Were there times I wished they and their intrusive procedures would just disappear? Many times! Did I ask them to go beyond normal procedures to help me get where I wanted to go? Obviously. Did they respond? Graciously. Would I have given any part of it up for what I got out of it? NO WAY. My hat goes off to each and every one of them.

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

During my first stint in Rehab I sat the exams to regain my driver’s license. Since my test as a teenager was many decades ago, I studied the manual and new rules I had no knowledge of. Having passed both written and road exams, I went to my local Motor Vehicle branch armed with my new certifications. I was immediately handed a provisional permit and told that I needed a whole slew of additional tests – after all, I was a quadriplegic! When all was said and done I was issued a license for half the normal time period with the requirement that I would have to go through the same regime again at that time.

After the second rehab stint I again built the strength, perception, concentration and reflexes required to pass the driving tests, but was spared the licensing board through a technicality. I mention these episodes about driving as a means of saying don’t let the system get you down, keep working it. More importantly, I am about to take off on my first solo journey. Another goal will be checked off the list – time to add another one or two.

LIFE AT HOME

Since coming home I’ve had support from both the local Physio and OT. Neither had dealt with a quadriplegic before and as such we developed things together. Likewise my Family Doctor is not familiar with my needs so he and I work together on my medications and specialist appointments. We have the full support of my physiatrist who is available for three way telephone consultations between herself, my Family Doctor and I.

Shortly after I came home the second time my OT strongly suggested a power wheelchair “so you don’t get tired”. Truthfully I have no pecs, but was able to find hill holders for my manual wheelchair – they prevent backwards movement from the pull of gravity. “It ain’t pretty”, but I can manage small grades now. There is no electric wheelchair in my immediate future, but I realize that the time will likely come when I will have to swallow my pride and keep one in reserve. Here’s hoping that by exercise and positive thinking I can keep it that way for the foreseeable future! She agrees with me and has an open door policy for my needs.

RAISE THE BAR

My physio for the most part followed my plans for exercise. Initially she resisted my suggestion for the treadmill but went along with it. We both feel comfortable with my use of it now. When I requested that we go walking minus cane she again had major reservations, but went along with it. I have now reached the stage where I can walk the corridors of the hospital. I also walk in the local shopping centre on Sundays when there is limited chance of being brushed by anyone. In terms of raising the bar – I’m already visualizing running with my gimp leg!

Again I have had to convince my physio that I am capable of more. It would appear that her belief in my prospects for future accomplishments was much less than my own. That happened when she realized that in terms of recovery I am beyond my “best before” date. Statistically that may be the case, but I refuse to acknowledge it. I still have goals to reach and new ones to set. Again I had to confront the system. Again we have agreed that I can and will continue to progress.

THE BOTTOM LINE

I am a self motivator, I’m goal oriented and I’m stubborn. As I come near to achieving one goal, I up the bar. Over and above these is the ability to not take any of the impediments too seriously. “Laugh and the world laughs with you”. Humour is a powerful drug. The alternative is self-pity and I can’t afford all those tissues!

In closing I would like to reiterate a couple points I mentioned above: I have never lost my hope, sense of humour or will to push myself and my “gimp-ness” to the limit with dogged determination. Don’t let the system get you down, keep working it and remeber, humour is a powerful drug. With these thoughts in mind and a strong support team, Gimp is only a word not a condition.

Kind Regards,
Bob Salzman