#sphm

One shitty thing about end of life is the issue of losing control. This seems to be hardest for people who’ve never had to deal with a disability or limitation, who’ve placed their identity in such things as being highly self-sufficient, capable, educated, strong - that kind of thing. For people like this - and I identify as “people like this” - the changes are hard to accept, and so is accepting assistance with increasingly basic and personal tasks.

When the problem is mobility, there’s even more at stake than the emotional aspect of losing control. If your idea of quality of life is defined by staying in bed and watching Gunsmoke reruns, and you’re too weak to get around safely, maybe it’s no big loss. But if you want to get out and feel the sun on your skin, or sit under a hot shower, or whatever, then staying in bed for the rest of your life will clearly *not* appeal to you.

In light of all the injuries nursing staff and lift teams (the idea from about 15 years ago of employing couple big strong guys to move patients - BTW they get herniated discs just as easily as compact-sized women) incur from doing these maximum-assist transfers, not  to mention the risk of injury to the patient themselves, many hospitals have started using lift equipment.

This is a drawing from one patient’s granddaughter, who asked me how I’d get her gigi-san (who is about 3 times my weight) out of bed and into a wheelchair. I flexed my biceps, and then showed her - with gigi-san’s permission - how I’d do it.