Post Polio No Way...

Post Polio no way, that was my attitude when I first heard the talk over the radio as I was standing in my gift shop.  There was no way that I would have Post Polio.  I would out smart it.  The buzz was that people who had polio had a re-occurrence of polio.   They brought this on by their active life style being type "A" individuals.  Well I was a type "A" personality.  At that time I ran a gift shop with my husband outside of Williamsburg, Virginia and I took care of my home and three sons.  This was in the early 80's.

I had polio as a child, when I was four years old.  That was in 1948.  I had already had polio over thirty years.  I was an active mother of three boys, and although I walked with crutches and wore a brace on my left leg I managed to do almost everything that all the other young mothers did.  In fact I did more.  My husband, and I had bought an established gift shop. I ran the shop doing the buying, and managing the sales crew.  There were days just after Thanksgiving, where I never had a moment to sit down.  I remember that my good leg hurt up to my knee from being on my feet all day long.  These boom days just before Christmas were just too good to miss and I was one of my best sales ladies.

During this time, as if I did not have enough on my plate, I even took oil painting classes at William and Mary College.  I would work all day and then come home to be with the boys and fix dinner.  Little wonder that I never had the energy to clean up after dinner.  I thought that I was just lazy.

It was during this time that my back started to bother me.  I had scoliosis that began to develop during my teens.  It was a result of the polio.  I went to my GP doctor, who asked for X rays and when they came back he was amazed and wanted me to go immediately to see a specialist.  He was afraid that if I had a bad fall that I might just end up having to sit in a wheelchair the rest of my life. The Doctor he sent me too referred me to the Scoliosis clinic in Minneapolis.  My husband and I flew out for an appointment with Dr Bradford, who was there at the time and considered to be the best scoliosis doctor.  He recommended surgery to straighten my back.  Waiting for an appointment, I dieted.

Five months later we went out for the surgery.  Now that I think about it this was more than likely the beginings of my onward battle against post polio.  My recovery was slower than for someone "normal."  My husband and I became estranged.  I stayed with my parents to recover.

My life went on but everything had changed.  My two sons and I stayed with my parents, and my oldest son went to College near by.

I tried to not over use my good leg by sitting occasionally in a wheel chair.  I swam at the local YMCA to keep my weight down and to get exercise.   I got too enthusiastic and felt so good that I pushed myself too much.  I clearly remember one day after swimming that I had an unusual weak feeling in my arms.  I wondered about that.  I had that feeling reoccur after sitting out in the sun in Virginia Beach watching the surf with friends.  Why did I have trouble with the steps?  I felt so tried.  I began to wonder if I had MS.  I had a friend who had been diagnosed with MS in her thirties.  Could that be what these periods of weakness were?

Needless to say, all I did was wonder.  I did try to conserve my strength by sitting in my chair some.  The effect was that it became harder and harder to keep my weight down.  I have always been fairly careful about my diet, eating the right kinds of food.  However, with the little weight that I gained I resorted to some fad diets.  With each fad diet I would inevitably gain a few extra pounds.  I was in my mid 40's.

Steps which had never been a problem in the past became more and more difficult.  I thought this might have been due to the back surgery.  Fast fore ward to my mid fifties, there was definitely something wrong.  I fell going up the stairs to a friend's party.  I was so embarrassed.  I have always brushed off falls in the past saying that I knew how to fall.  I fell so many times without hurting myself.  But that time was different.  I should not have fallen then.  I became afraid to go places without one of my sons or a friend.  My life became more and more restricted.  Finally, I looked into getting a scooter.  That would enable me to do more.  My son and I were now doing antiques and in ordered to fined our merchandise I needed to be able to get around to find the items to sell.  You can not order antiques out of a book.

Finally a friend insisted that I find out if I indeed had Post Polio.  I found a doctor in Richmond Virginia, Dr. Wooten and was diagnosed with post polio.  I had lost the battle 50 years after first getting polio.  She advised me not to walk or to use my regular wheel chair as my arms were also effected by the polio.  I needed a power chair, or scooter.  I had gotten the scooter, but now I needed to use it full time.  My Dad helped me get a van that had hand controls and a lift for my scooter.

My life actually changed for the better.  I was no longer restricted to making sure I had someone with me.  I had the freedom to go as I pleased.  Of course there were those places that a chair or scooter could not go.  I was still able to stand and walk some with my crutches.  I could do the grocery shopping without help for the first time in my life.  There were benefits.  The doctor prescribed medicine to calm my nerves. Once I got used to living this way I was not as worried.  After a few months I no longer needed the medication.  She also prescribed medication for pain.  After a while the pain I had felt in my arms and good leg lessen and I started using only pain medicines that were sold over the counter when needed.

I now realize that muscle soreness that felt like the flu was also Post polio.  By pacing myself and trying not to over do has really helped.  It is amazing that I can still be a type "A" personality in a wheel chair.  Even with post polio, I used to paint daily  producing a vast amount of oil painting.  For the past nine years, I have run first an Antique mall and now a Twentieth Century Design Shop with my youngest son from a power chair.  I care for my aging mother, that sometimes pushes the limits, but I can do it for now anyway.  I just pace myself.  I do believe in living life to the fullest.

Dealing With Dementia

When you love someone and they have dementia, life becomes increasingly complicated.  Someone with dementia usually does not realize that they have a problem.  They are in their own mine who they always have been.  To their way of thinking they can do whatever they used to do.  They can become indignant easily, and resentful of their care taker, particularly if that care taker is their own child.

I have made all kinds of mistakes in trying to take care of my mother who is currently suffering from advanced dementia.  I have found that it is somewhat like watching a two or three year old child who is inquisitive but lacks judgement.  If a child is doing something that you think is not good for them or harmful in some way, it is easy to say something to the child even to divert them in some way.  An adult who has dementia is not so easily diverted.  You can say no do not feed the dog, and minutes later she has forgotten and is feeding the dog again. She can become indignant and argue, sometimes slamming down whatever is handy and stumping off.

At dinner time, or anytime that I am trying to get something accomplished, I have to endure a innumerable request to help.  I try to find small tasks for her to feel useful , but more and more she is less able to preform these task.  Even after helping she still continues, making my tasks at hand ever so much more difficult.

Recently, I have noticed that I am unable to explain anything to her.  When I have tried to explain, it results in making her frustrated.  I have learned, I hope, to use less words.

This is so hard to become accustom to.  Mother was once a vibrant person, capable, a care taker herself.  She has taken care of me many times through out my life.  Having had polio as a four year old child, I needed much attention.  Even after becoming an adult, there were times that mother would have to drop everything and help me and help with my family.  Once I broke my knee and could not get out of bed to care for my small boys, I stay at my parents and my mother took care of the boys and myself.  While my husband stayed in another town where we were living doing his job.  Another time I permanently broke my hip on my paralyzed leg, the doctor said my bones were too thin, so just sit there and let it heal.  By this time I was divorced with three teenage boys.  Mother moved in and took over until I was healed.

I think wanting to help me is part of her DNA something that she has done so much and feels like she should be the helper not me.  I keep trying to find a reason.

In essence the reason is her Dementia.