Showering in a TM world

Showers used to be so refreshing almost every time…especially on those days when I’d sweated thru a tee shirt or two.
But now I live in a Transverse myelitis world.
“Refreshing” is NOT the right word to describe the feeling after a taking a shower sitting on a chair.
“Tired” is.

The last refreshing shower that I took was on Saturday, September 16, 2023…before we headed to see 6 bands and a night of music.
The shower the next day, before heading to the ER, was mostly in a panic as the tingling was making its way up my legs and my arms were feeling “weird”.
The next morning I woke up paralyzed, and didn’t have another shower for 19 days.
It was nothing but sponge baths in the neurological wing of Cox South until I had my first Occupational Therapy shower at the in-patient rehab hospital.
I’ve been taking showers on a chair ever since.

A shower was never a job before TM.
It was never a hard thing to do. It was almost always a pleasure.
Shelly and I never said “tomorrow is shower day.”
And the showering process never took long.
I could shed my clothes, be in-&-out of the shower (including shampooing—when my hair wasn’t loooong like it was when Transverse Mylitis ambushed me), dry off, and be dressed in <10 minutes.
I didn’t dawdle.
I still don’t.
But now we’re looking at 40 minutes or more start-to-finish.

Here’s how it goes:

1. Get the toiletry/catheter items off the shower chair. (N/A in a pre-TM world)
2. Put a towel down on the floor outside the shower. (Ditto)
3. Undress.
4. Plug the catheter tube so I don’t have to wrestle with a bag in the shower.
5. Waddle to the bathroom, sit on the chair, use my arms to lift my right leg into the tub, lift the left leg in w/o assistance. (My shower chair extends outside the tub itself as I can’t step into a tub…not even close.)
6. Shampoo and bathe while sitting.
   [In an “equipped” shower I might be able to “make it happen,” i.e. stand&shampoo&shower. But closing my eyes is NOT happening if I’m standing…not with my pathetic sense of balance.
7. Dry almost everything {except the boys and my butt} while sitting. (Can’t imagine trying to stand and dry off. TM blew up my nerves and my balance. Bigly.)
8. Waddle back to the bedroom and re-attach the leg bag. (I failed a Urodynamics test yesterday and can’t pee, hence the catheter. After what TM did to my hands, self-cathing is not an option.)
9. Get dressed. (Getting underwear and pants on is slow and clumsy. I was never the most flexible person, but in a TM world “flexibility” is a foreign concept.)
10. Quickly blow dry and then flop down on the couch…exhausted.

There you have it.
What used to be 10 refreshing minutes every day is now a tiring ordeal every 2 or 3 days. (A daily shower really isn’t necessary. https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/showering-daily-is-it-necessary-2019062617193 )
But I am able to do it all by myself. (Shelly usually helps with #4 and #8….and #9 if I get frustrated. She does make sure that I have everything I need. She makes sure that I’ve dried my back well…and she cleans up if I’ve made a mess….that’s what #2 above is for. Have I told you how lucky I am to have Shelly for a partner?)

I hope I don’t sound like I’m whining. (I’m just trying to share my personal TM experience. It’s different for each of the 1400 who are diagnosed each year in the U.S.)
Compared to where I was a year ago, there is lots of improvement.
Compared to many who suffer from idiopathic acute transverse myelitis, I am one of the luckier ones.
Some never walk again…even with a walker.

And compared to the obits from across the state that I scan most days for conversation fodder with Dad, I am very lucky.
9 of the 20 that died recently were younger than me when they took their last breath. Often more than half are younger. (It’s rare that any are older than my Dad, who was 98 in late May…)
I’ll do my best to enjoy, appreciate, and be grateful for each and every shower.
And I’ll enjoy every sandwich.