The Day Disability Struck

The day my husband crawled in the door on all four limbs, unable to stand changed our lives forever. My big strong man couldn't stand, I lifted and drug him, moving him the few inches required all my strength. “What happened?” I shrieked, when I saw him at the door, his pain so great he could only get out, “Accident...at work.”

“Let’s get you back in the truck; I’ll take you to the emergency room, right now.” How could they let him go home like that; I wondered, as I went to pull his truck closer to the house. At times like this my mind whirs; what do I need to do to get him back in the truck, oh, my God what’s wrong with him, I need to run back in the house and turn off the stove.

“No!” His exasperated cry startled me. “Honey, we have to get you to the doctor! You need help.” He collapsed on the front step, his head on the step. “Please, let me take you to the doctor,” I yelled. Kirt’s dislike of hospitals and doctors and avoidance of same was legendary, so I slipped straight into frantic. “Open the door,” his voice demanded and plead simultaneously. “No, I don’t know what to do for you. I can’t help you. You need a doctor!”

“Been. OPEN, the door!” Okay, that put a different color on things, but now wasn't the time for questions. I opened the door. He couldn't lift himself, so I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the urgent care or the ER?” “Grab my shoulders, pull me in,” he replied.  I took his left arm at the shoulder, but he yelled in pain, both sides had to be lifted equally to get in the door, I tried to lift while straddling him. This proved awkward, so with a big towel slipped around his chest and under his arms I lifted and pulled all my might and he pushed propelling himself through the door.

On the floor in a heap like an injured puppy he panted and moaned. At this point in my life I didn't cry, so only my bloodshot eyes revealed my horror at seeing my hero broken. The table and chairs had to be moved and the coffee table. He needed a clear path to the sofa. How could a doctor send him home like this? What the hell happened? “Oh, oh, oh,” my big guy cried. “You rest here. Let’s put this towel under your head. Try taking some deeper breaths.”

Kirt always had that farm boy commonsense, so he worked with it, taking deep breaths, relaxing as much as he could. The towel under his head felt better. My good guy said, “Thanks.”

By the time I had everything out of the way, he started to crawl on his hands and knees, few feet later he collapsed, so we did the same thing with deep breathing and the towel under his head. “You say a doctor saw you,” I commented without expecting an answer.

Just five years earlier we bought our little house on tens acres. We filled it with horses, cows, chickens, dogs and flowers. My husband always wanted me to stay home, so he gave me what I loved. The place demanded more work than I could imagine, so each day I scheduled my chores. Kirt came home to see me struggling to clean up the barn. In twenty minutes the man had the whole job done, smiled at me and said, “Let’s have dinner.” At the time it made me feel weak and incompetent, but I admired his strength and the ease with which he got things done. He took care of me.

On the sofa at last, I had all I could handle to not bombarded him with questions. How do you get home in this condition? What kind of doctor would let you go home like this? What is happened? It hadn’t taken much to figure out his back hurt, but damn, this seemed extreme. Once, the hood of a car slammed on Kirt’s thumb, he had to pull it out. The indentation of the hood remained on his thumb for a long time to come, all he did was shake it off and go on about his business. This is no cry baby guy.

“Going down the Eisenhower I hit a pothole, the seat bottomed out. Pain shot through my legs. By the time I got back to the shop they were numb.” They took me to a clinic in Cicero. The doctor gave me this prescription for pain pills and a couple of days off.” Kirt’s face was still tight with pain, but he had gotten his breath back.

From that day in 1988 he never had a pain free day in his life.