As I awake my eyes fall on the wheelchair that is at the foot of the bed...oh yes;  for just a very brief moment I have forgotten... the chair belongs to me.

 

My mind wonders back to the events that have shaped what is now my life. People tell me I should write a book about it due to the outrageous and almost unbelieveable events that took  place. Could such  injustice and downright cruelty happen to a person...how do I  begin; where do I start...then I remember the caregiver...the women who was suppose to be taking care of me after the surgery that had rendered me in the wheelchair.

 

 It was suppose to be only temporary; once the back infection that had shocked my back cleared I would get back on my feet... then I feel the sting of her open hand across my face and I am helpless. I look up... she keeps hitting me as I lay in the bed.   I'm crying, I have my arms up to deflect the punches. I don't know how I know to block the punches so well...you see I have amnesia. No one knows I have amnesia because the doctors say I  have Alzheimer's...outrageious I know...a 55 year old outer island female whose very own doctors when questioned on my mental conditon told the doctors at Queen's that I was in good mental health. 

 

She stops hiitting me and starts to put duct tape on the diaper I have on, she's encircling my waist with the tape. Why do I  have a diaper on? I am completely continent but no one believes me. You see in the hospital it was easier for the  nurses to put me in a diaper then to toilet me... but we'll get to that.

 

 All of a sudden the caregiver is at my bedside...she's holding the phone and telling me it's my mother...my mother? I take the phone and I  hear my name and suddenly my memories start surging back. I have continuous mental images for 2 second intervals and it's my life. My memory is coming back like choppy short videos! My mother's voice was the trigger but now it's 2 videos as I glance up and see the caregiver... In my mind one side are the memories that my mother's voice is bringing up and the other side are memories of the caregiver who is standing directly over me...images of her stuffing stool soaked rags down my throat, the hitting, the...I don't feel so good and I am coming to a stark realalization that I'm  in  real trouble. You see... I'm an RN and realize I am in grave danger. There is a psychotic caregiver standing over me... I'm  her private pay meal ticket. This is not good.

 

 I can't let her know I have regained all my memory.  To say I was in fear for my life would be an understatement. I end the  call and the caregiver casually asks me how much of my memory has come back.

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Comment by Sharon P Garcia on April 25, 2012 at 11:29am

"Crawling Back From Amnesia""What is the date again?"...I stall as I try to think of what to say. Then I look  her straight in the eye and say that my last memory was of being in the hospital; after that everythings a blank. She looks relieved and leaves.

When she comes back she has a bunch of pills in a medicine cup. She starts to pour them down my mouth and I say "Stop." Then I remember she doesn't let me do anything myself. It's faster for her to shove all the stuff down my throat...including the food. I realize she can't tell me what the pills are because she doesn't know which are which. There are as many as 15 pills from what I can see.

She's visibly agitated and I comply as she pours the pills into my mouth and then puts a cup with a straw in reach but insists on holding the cup.

Thoughts are surging through my mind...how do I get out of here, who can I call? My mother is on the mainland taking care of her sick husband, the RN who comes monthly isn't going to help me. Anything I tell the RN will get back to the caregiver. If I call the police all the caregiver has to do is show them the diagnosis from the hosptial that I'm demented and need to be institusionlized for the rest of my life...yes; the doctor from Queen's actually wrote in my chart that my prognosis was so bad that I would never recover mentally. The exact writing is permanent & overwhelming.

Suddenly (as will happen often) a memory pops into my mind. I'm laying on the floor beside the bed, there is great pain. I tried to escape and went down on the floor with my legs under me. I'm too weak to straighten myself out. My plan was to drag myself out to the street to get help. I'm screaming call 911, somebody help me please. I'm so  weak I can't even drag myself a few feet, I look down and see my ribs sticking out so far as if I'm a human skeleton. I scream for what seems like hours. It's night as signaled by the window in my room. No one comes... then the sun starts to come up and I hear the front door  open (I can hear everything that goes on in the house).

It's her...she's been out all night clubbing.  In a few moments I hear the door knob to my room turn as I silently pray for God to take me...somehow I'm all too familiar with the psychotic rage that will soon be upon me.

 

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