And again today

I got stuck again today coming up Bayers Road in my chair and again someone pulled over their car and a pedestrian chipped in to help get me going again.  This city is filled with amazing people.

Two in one day

The weather was pretty miserable here today with snow and rain and then snow again. I had to go out for a couple of appointments in my chair. Twice, total strangers came to my rescue when I got my chair stuck on icy sidewalks. I find the kindness of strangers just blows me away and I honestly don't know what I'd do without them.

Why a blog?

I decided today I needed to start a blog. I was on my way to church, after a mild snowfall, in my power chair and as luck would have it I got stuck.  I couldn't move forward or backward. So I sat, hoping someone would come along and help. Sure enough, a young man put his car in park and got out and pushed me and got me going again. The one thing I've been amazed with since becoming disabled is how many people will help me. They don't need to be asked, they offer. We live in a world where too often we hear about the bad that is happening. We rarely hear about the good. So that is the point of this blog. It's to share stories of acts of kindness. Those by strangers, friends, and anyone. Please comment and add your stories. We need to spread the word of goodness and kindness.
Shirley

My first sermon

LIFE’S LESSONS

Delivered November 28, 2010

Universalist Unitarian Church, Halifax

By: Shirley O’Neill

Sir Winston Churchill said, “A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.”   I have come to talk to you today about my own personal journey of overcoming difficulty by embracing opportunities.

In the past year I was stricken with serious illness. I contracted H1N1 and being asthmatic it was very serious for me. I didn’t know if I would wake up the next morning each time I fell asleep. It took every ounce of energy I could muster to focus on having a simple conversation.

The side effects of the medication I needed to keep me alive had long-lasting and devastating side effects. This all began in June but by October of last year I could no longer walk. My legs would simply turn to jelly and I would collapse wherever I was. The lethargy took away my brain. I couldn’t tear a match from a match book or open a bottle. I just couldn’t function at all anymore.

I couldn’t clean my home or take a shower by myself. I couldn’t talk for any length of time. Every single movement took an enormous amount of energy. Some well meaning people would spout off clichés like, “Use it or lose it”. They didn’t seem to grasp the severity of the situation. I had already lost it. There was nothing I could do to change that. I was caught in a vicious cycle of requiring medication to keep me breathing but knowing that same medication was eating my body and robbing me of my brain.

I think the most difficult parts for me were the feelings of isolation and the not knowing. I had no idea if I would recover. I couldn’t trust my body anymore. A friend who had died of cancer a couple of years earlier had said she could no longer trust her body and those words haunted me as I now was in the same position.

I am an extraordinarily social person. I need social contact. I love talking and being with people. But as a single person who lives alone, with my two cats, I now had only one real source of social contact and that was with healthcare professionals. I had so many doctors. I quickly amassed my very own medical team. Sadly, there was little any of them could do for me. I was maxed out on every medication they could give me. And, I just wasn’t getting any better.

I spent 22 days in hospital last October. I can honestly say that was a good time for me because it at least allowed me to socialize with other patients. During most of that time my roommate was an 84 year-old dementia patient. Linda became the light of my life. If my mother were still alive she’d have been the same age as Linda. Linda would sit by my bed and we’d hold hands. She was always cold and I was always hot so I would try to warm her hands with mine. We’d sing. Her favourite song was How Much Is That Doggy in the Window. She loved to do the barking parts.

I am forever grateful to the respirologist I had in the hospital. She told me I should expect at least a year for any kind of meaningful recovery. I needed to be told that. It stopped me from putting unrealistic expectations on myself. That helped me mentally. I guess I somehow needed affirmation from someone else that I wasn’t responsible for my lack of recovery. This was something that was going to take a lot of time to fix.

After that discharge from the hospital I was connected with the MOSH Team – Mobile Outreach Street Health. They were phenomenal. My nurse, Monica, came to visit me at home a few times each week. Monica’s visits meant the world to me. Her compassion and caring went well beyond the call of duty. She saved my sanity. They also had an Occupational Therapist, Becky, who met with me and worked with me at home. It was Becky who secured funding through the Abilities Foundation to get me my power chair. That chair gave me back my life.

I also found myself having to deal with extreme financial hardship. I was now dependant on income assistance disability. After having worked for 15 years in the social justice arena I found myself going from service provider to service user over night. That was a difficult transition to make. I had to find new housing as I could no longer afford my apartment. Fortunately I was able to secure quality low income housing through an agency I had worked for in the past. I would like to say friends helped with my move but that would be the understatement of the year. Friends moved me. I wasn’t able to pack or clean. They did all of that for me.

I needed to depend on food banks and before I had my chair wasn’t even able to go get the food myself. I would call and they would prepare a box for me and I would get someone else to pick it up and bring it to me. I think I gave up on any silly notions of pride I had last year. People saw my apartment a mess because I couldn’t clean it. People saw me a mess because a lot of days I didn’t have the energy to even get dressed. I learned quickly the rules of survival. Sometimes you just do what you have to do and I that’s what I did.

In December I finally started getting homecare to help with cleaning my home and assistance with showering and personal care. I also started getting regular VON visits at that time. We have a good healthcare and community supports system in Nova Scotia but we have waitlists to access them. I am grateful every day now for all the help I have.

I was back in hospital in January with a bout of gastritis. My stomach was just not accepting food or fluids anymore.  That was a much shorter visit. Medications helped and I was now finally off steroids and my body was able to start healing.

The road to recovery wasn’t easy. I still attend physiotherapy and see my doctor regularly. I still need a lot of help to get through each day. But I keep getting stronger. I keep being able to do more. And, I keep looking back and thinking I couldn’t do this a few months ago. One of my physiotherapists told me I define the saying, You’ve come a long way baby.

I also had the thyroid cancer diagnosis to deal with in the middle of it all. That was found by accident when they did a CT scan of my chest last October. Medical professionals kept telling me, it’s nothing to worry about, it probably isn’t cancer, but we’re going to do this other test. Until finally they conceded it was cancer. At that point I was still too sick to undergo surgery. So I waited and worked on getting better.

This summer I can honestly say I hadn’t felt better in years. I think I did more living this summer than I had in many previous ones combined. I found myself filled with a new enthusiasm for life. I wanted to make up for all I missed last year. I went to the Gardens several times and Point Pleasant Park numerous times. I drove my chair up Citadel Hill - I haven’t been up there since I was a child. I took in as many festivals and free events as I could get to. I was actually quite amazed to learn how many wonderful things are free in this city.

I know I smile more now than I ever did before. I learned a lot this past year. I learned to believe in the inherent goodness of others. People help me all the time. No one I’ve asked to reach something for me in a grocery store, or move something out of my way on a sidewalk, or open a bottle for me, or to help with a door has ever said no. Becoming disabled (or differently-abled as I prefer to say) has shown me that most people want to do good and will if you just let them. Some may need a nudge in the right direction because they aren’t sure what to do. But when asked they will rise to the occasion.

I have no anger or bitterness. I don’t mourn what I’ve lost, I cherish what I’ve gained. I believe that is the greatest lesson I learned this year. I no longer take for granted I will wake up every day. I enjoy each day I’m given in my own special way. I don’t mind being rained on because I’m here to feel the rain. I’ve learned to love life and all that I have gained.

I’m thankful to the medical professionals who helped me survive this year. I hope I never again take for granted the things we hold so dear. I said too many times, it shouldn’t be this hard just to breathe. So now I take each breath and know it is a gift for me. I’m grateful for each day I have and try to live them fully. Good health is far too precious and we are far too fragile. Enjoy what you have today and share your joy with those around you. We may never have tomorrow. So don’t miss what you have today.

I went researching the topic of not taking life for granted in preparation for today’s sermon and found some wonderful quotes I would like to share with you that I believe have bearing and insight.

Sir Winston Churchill said, “A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.”   I love those words. We shouldn’t look at life as something guaranteed. It isn’t. We should strive to take everything we can from each moment. Opportunities exist even in our darkest hours. I will never be much better physically than I am today. But I can grow in other ways. I can grow spiritually and am embarking on a much more directed and intensified journey in that respect with my venture into Divinity College. I have the opportunity to learn more and do things in a different way than I could previously. Perhaps, even in a better way. My passion for making a difference in the lives of others and my commitment to social justice can now take on a different format but are no less relevant to the choices I am making now as I continue to grow.

I learned so much from my best friend, Sylvia Parris. Sylvia is legally blind, she is of African-Nova Scotian descent, she raised three children by herself, and has completed two Masters Degrees. Her professional background is that of an educator. One of Sylvia’s favourite things to talk about are “teachable moments”. When people look at me now with sympathy because I sit in my chair, I remember the words of Sylvia and teachable moments.

Confucius once said, “It is not the failure of others to appreciate your abilities that should trouble you, but rather your failure to appreciate theirs.” I don’t need to worry that strangers may look at me in terms of what I can’t do. I can take them past that by demonstrating what I can do. When I have the time I can talk to strangers, I do this often with young children who seem concerned or confused by my chair and explain to them the best I can. I take it as a teachable moment. Anger and resentment tend to serve to fester and breed contempt. So I choose to rise above the looks and carry on as I am. In the words of Indira Gandhi. “You cannot shake hands with clenched fists.”

A quote from John F. Kennedy is, “The only unchangable certainty in life is that nothing is unchangable or certain.” We never know what tomorrow will bring so I ask that each of you search within yourself today to find what it is that you might take for granted. Remember to nurture those things for they are precious in their own way. We only change tomorrow by the actions we take today.

I would like to close now with a brief poem:

When your hours are saddest and your days filled with despair

Hold on to the good times and know that people care

When you have your darkest times and cannot see the light

Look forward to the morning to get you through the night

Thank you.