Dispatch from PMH, Day 5

This new phase of my life has really thrown me, although I believe it must still be easier to acclimate to deteroriating health than to suddenly have a car accident and wake up a paraplegic.

Despite four radiation treatments, the numbness has spread up to my waist on the left side. I can barely feel my left buttock. The technicians tell me it could get worse before it gets better. And I must remember that when I had the upper-spine radiation, the acute pain didn't go away until about two weeks after the treatments had ended (as predicted). But it's easy to believe that I've lost my leg for good, and the past few days have been terrifying.

To have my treatments, I have to be moved from bed to stretcher by three or four people like a sack of potatoes. When the physiotherapists came yesterday, they had me sit up for a while in a wheelchair, but a couple of experiences of trying to shift myself using a walker were frightening to me. My better leg feels like it may be going in the same bad direction, but it could just be because I've been lying in bed too much.

My dear mother comes every day and tidies constantly, reaching for things I need, fetching ice chips, preparing food (the hospital food is terrible). I'm cast back to 1966, when at age 9 I was completely immobilized in a body cast in our dining room in northern Ontario for three or four months, and poor Mom had to care for me along with three boisterous youngsters. Bed pans, food trays, sponge baths, the whole nine yards.

In terms of life quality, my paralyzed vocal cord is making me just as miserable as the legs. Last night I passed a sleepless hour reading a Toronto Life that Angie brought me yesterday, and I found myself salivating over the restaurant reviews -- but that was because I was lying down. The minute I sit up, I feel so full I can barely put a thing in my mouth, and even if I do, it's so hard to swallow, I'd rather not eat at all. Meanwhile, my poor compressed abdomen is full of gas. This is partly because medications are making me constipated. But it's also because the paralyzed vocal cord causes me to swallow a lot of air and saliva. Ingesting the massive amounts of pills that I must take every day is not fun.

I will spare you the details of the adult diapers.

I've been seen by a palliative care team, and I'm not sure what that means. Apparently they specialize in symptom management and planning for cancer patients, so I don't think their presence means I am imminently dying. But I may be on the slippery slope to serious disability, I guess.

Pollyanna moments:

• Princess Margaret Hospital just got wireless internet for patients six months ago -- it's a lifesaver for me.
• Mom brought me a stuffed puppy. I have named it after one of my nurses: Espiranza (hope).
• I've had this semi-private room to myself since I got here, but I don't think that will last long.