My Time at the National Rehabilitation Hospital

Part 1                                                                     Part II

The time had come in physiotherapy when Eoin decided I was ready to try getting upright. It was late July in the afternoon as it happened when the attempt was made. I remember it well as with the assistance of, I think, five people in total, and some piece of equipment for holding I made it to my feet. It hurt like hell as I took my first few steps. We ended up doing the full length of the gym. Eoin was chuffed as well as everybody else there who worked with me and knew the score. What a relief. I felt like cheering and calling out. I’m sure others there felt likewise. We don’t do such things in the Rehab gym. There is a quiet respect for other patients who perhaps may never get to stand. It was brilliant to be standing even with the help of people and equipment. This was the first time I stood in almost four months from the morning of the 8th April previous. I could also now avail of the hydro pool with the assistance of water babes Kate and Mark. I was even encouraged to go home for a weekend. I was only a month away from discharge date anyway and this was the way of getting ready for that day.

At this point I wish to mention my good neighbours who helped my wife Maria all through this tough low time in both our lives. They took some of the pressure off by coming to visit me along with Maria. It’s a fair journey from Duleek in Co Meath to Dun Laoghaire. The M50 eases the trip a little but it’s still an ordeal. Most relatives and friends also made the trip. They were all wonderful to take the time and put in the effort. I appreciated hearing the news from home, especially the gossip. Sure I might as well be honest at this point.

On a beautiful sunny Friday evening my good neighbours Leslie and Vidie arrived to pick me up take me home for my first weekend out of Rehab. I could now transfer from the wheelchair to the car no bother. (Yes, no bother, Willie.) I had mixed emotions of excitement but also fear at how I would manage at home. The journey was grand until I arrived at my own bumpy gravelled driveway. We managed to cope and eventually reached the rear of the house area.

This was a big occasion for me but we kept it low key. I didn’t feel like having a big party or the like to celebrate my home coming. My own dog didn’t recognise me at first because I was in the wheelchair, but when he copped on who I was he leaped right up on my lap and just stayed there, refused to get down. When Maria tried to lift him down he growled, just his way of saying no. Sure he hadn’t seen me in four months, probably thought I’d gone for good. Who knows, but he remained on my lap for half an hour or so. It’s amazing the loyalty of creatures, especially dogs. How can some people be cruel to animals, abandon them without food and leave them tied up for days?

Home to me was like a foreign land at first, as I needed help to negotiate the back door entrance. It was great to be finally home though there were obstacles galore in my way. Narrow doorways not designed with wheelchairs in mind. The bathroom facilities were difficult to use, and I along with Maria realised if I remained like I was without further progress, there would need to be major alterations or else move to a wheelchair friendly house. The one good plus we had was the fact I had no stairs to negotiate. Our bedroom was okay enough once I got in the narrow door.

It was nice to awaken next morning in my own bed again, and having availed of the bathroom facilities and consumed some breakfast I found my way out to the back door patio area to enjoy the beautiful summer’s morning. “I’ll help you manage washing in the bathroom,” Maria offered. I looked all around me at the beautiful scenery of the many plants and shrubbery in full growth and a few in blossom before requesting; “Sure bring me a basin of warm water here and I’ll manage just fine.” That was how it was. I had a grand time doing the task while my faithful dog sat nearby and the swallows swooped above my head as they made their way to feed their young in the garage. Sure what better bathroom would you get than that and the spilling or splashing of water didn’t matter.

I hadn’t the task completed long, when visitors called and this continued all day. By the time evening came I was tired, and Sunday went the same, until it was time to return to Rehab. I have to say I didn’t mind going back, for I knew it just had to be done and I’d be back home again the following weekend. I have to mention Colin the very patient and talkative driving instructor based in Rehab. I gained enough experience with him as guide to manage with confidence an automatic car that had hand controls fitted to operate the brake and accelerator. I live out the country with no bus service passing the house, and anyway the one which operates through the village is only a couple of times a day – and what would you do in bad weather. In short without the use of a car I’d be stranded. I wanted at least some of my independence back and having my own car would give me that.

The last month in Rehab flew by and it came the day for leaving, the 27th of August. I can tell you I was glad to be going home, but also sad leaving these wonderful people who set me on the road to recovery in such a loving way. I can’t praise them enough, especially the folk in St Joseph’s Ward. I met some great people in Rehab including patients, and then there’s the kitchen staff and the people who work in the canteens. These people too have a great way about them by dealing with patients in such an understanding way. I thought the food was excellent, “Top notch,” as they say down our way.

Then there was the social aspect in Rehab, guided by the lovely Annie, the people who came in and gave of themselves and their time to entertain by singing, playing music and sharing in board games or playing cards. A lady came around every week with her adorable dog. What a simple yet worthwhile gesture of generosity of one human being for others who needed a lift. I certainly enjoyed her visits. The Karaoke evenings were hilarious, though I didn’t chance it myself.

I’ll share a story from the ward before I sign off. One evening towards the end of my stay, Aidan brought in a photo which hung in the hall near the ward and asked if I lived near that place? Of course I recognised the location immediately. Funny I hadn’t noticed the photo hanging in the corridor before now. It showed the townland of Platin, just up the road from where I live, and I don’t know how many hundreds of combines breaking the record for the most number of the machines harvesting in the same field at the one time. I was proud to relate that some of my relatives and neighbours were involved in that record breaking effort, and more importantly I knew it was all done in aid of three good causes, one of them being Rehab. Well done to all involved. I was actually there that day myself, and little did I think I would need the services of Rehab so soon myself.

It is now the 15th August 2014 (The feast of Our Lady), and I am about a year and five months into the illness. I have made a miraculous recovery, thank God. I met and spoke with several Guillain-Barré sufferers. Some have made good recoveries, others not so good. For some as yet unexplained reason, those who get the illness the worst and end up on a ventilator in ICU seem to make better recoveries. Perhaps it is the rest the body receives when on the ventilator that gives the impetus to push on when recovery mode kicks in. I don’t know, this is just an opinion. My feet are still very sensitive and sore. I have to wear extremely comfortable shoes which I find difficult to acquire readymade. Also I get tired quiet easily. Any little exertion and I’m bushed especially towards evening time.

I’m very grateful for the recovery I have made. I know it’s down to the treatment I received at Our Lady of Lourdes hospital and also the work by the people at the National Rehab in Dun Laoghaire. Another strange observation to relate is this. The right hand side of my body was always the stronger of the two. Well, it is now the other way around, although I prefer to use my right hand for writing. Guillain-Barré Syndrome has certainly turned my body and mind inside out, and subsequently my life to an equally extreme degree. There are of course positives. My mind is now much stronger, likewise my faith, and I actually take greater pleasure from the world around me. The simple things in life are magical, being able to feel the warm water from the shower while washing. The ability to walk and write a line, as the late great Johnny Cash sang about. I recall years ago the elderly people constantly saying; “the health is the wealth.” Well, I have to say, if you were to walk in my shoes, you would find this cliché to be perfectly true. To be able to sit with my good neighbours Frank or Leslie, and enjoy a cup of tea or whatever and a chat about life, is just wonderful.

P.S – I intend making the trip to Lourdes at some time in the near future. I wonder if the drink from the grotto spring will be as sustaining as when I last drank there during my time in ICU.