What a difference a day makes… Just last week I was cozying up in my cute farmhouse in Provence with my favorite caregivers, Teddy the big dog with a heart of gold, Valentine the little dog snuggled between my boobs, and Iris the little injured black stray kitten holding on for dear life, 50 sheep outside, plane tree lined streets, Alpilles mountain views and the promised Provençal lifestyle depicted by my favorite Impressionist painters at my fingertips…
I am in a palliative care center in Paris.
But let’s back up… What could have possibly happened within a few weeks for this drastic change? Well, it turns out I am a tad bit more delicate than I thought. With the past six years that I have had ALS, I have had everything under control, monitored and finely tuned… Caregivers, medication, feeding tube formula, vitamins and my sanity… And then all hell broke loose. My caregivers quit because I had too many animals and they hated living in Provence. I stopped taking my medication, couldn’t find a good masseuse, the kinesiologist never returned my calls, the post office couldn’t find my little farmhouse to deliver my feeding tube formula so it got lost, the new Moroccan Muslim nighttime caregiver was too busy smoking, drinking espresso and praying to Allah to give me my vitamins, I didn’t have the energy to ask for my regular chai soy latte and green juices. My husband, David, showed up at the house on Friday with three new caregivers who, bless their hearts, were/are idiots and I think one of them had elephantiasis of the balls… literally… which was the straw that broke the camel’s back. My little body just couldn’t take it anymore and I crumbled.
I couldn’t hold my neck up, I couldn’t even swallow water or food, and on a TMI (too much information) level, I couldn’t go to the bathroom without some powerful drugs. A recipe for disaster. Time for a little hospital visit, wouldn’t you say? The paramedics arrived and got me ready for transport to the hospital. Here’s the best part… They took me out through the window like a fat person because my doors were too small for the stretcher but probably just to humiliate me. The doctors at the hospital thought it would be best to check into a palliative care center (whatever that is) that specializes in ALS losers. David thought it would be best if I did so as well, but… in Paris. Au revoir, Provence.
You can either give up like a coward or forge ahead and prove to yourself that your life is worth fighting for. You just might have to fight a little harder."
Massages, meditation, acupuncture, physiotherapy and kinesiology.