Five Weeks of Hell

Five Weeks of Hell Monique Reneé Harris (bio) I thought my life was terrible before, but it got worse when I dealt with three crises at one time as a mother with cerebral palsy. Having a physical disability and speech impediment while caring for my son with a medical emergency is difficult and stressful. As much as I tried, I would never be equal to non-disabled people in a world that caters to them. It began at eleven o'clock one night. My cat was hissing and coughing. She always had a breathing problem, but this time it was terrible. I got on Facebook and said, "Something's wrong with my cat. I need help. " Mia, my disability advocate, got on Facebook and asked, "Can anybody help my friend with her cat? " We waited an hour for an answer. A man on Facebook called back and said, "I'm willing to help your friend. Give me her phone number and address. " He had called at eleven thirty at night. I gave them to him. Then we had to find a 24-hour vet. Finding this took about ten to twelve back-and-forth calls. He had to get to the front of my apartment. It took another seventy-five minutes for him to search for how to get inside. I had no idea how sick my son was. So I asked him to help me with my chair. He struggled and put me in it. I went downstairs with no pants on to look for the man. That took another thirty minutes. The guy got in and took the cat to the vet. I found out the cat had flu around his heart. They asked for 800, and I couldn't do it. So we left the cat all night. I decided to have the cat put to sleep. Several days later, my friend scattered my cat's ashes in the bay off Emeryville. Simultaneously, my son was stretched out on the bed, going in and out of consciousness. He was not responding. I was trying to get him to drink water and liquid, not understanding what he was going through. We went to the doctor's appointment and reviewed my son's medications. They said he was all right. He walked out of the office, talked, and ate his lunch. That night after the doctor's appointment, my son looked funny. He wasn't taking his medicine or eating, so I called the ambulance. He went to emergency twice, and they sent him home. I sent him a third time and went with him. I couldn't figure out why he was stumbling and couldn't talk clearly. I told the doctor, "You're not sending him home this time. I want you to find out what's wrong. " The doctor took tests to look at his brain. They thought they saw a mass. They told me they would get back to me. So I left my son that day and went home. End Page 125 But when I entered the hallway of my apartment building, I found water all over the floor. I said, "Oh shit!" There was water all over the kitchen and hallway. I said, "Oh no. " I had to crawl through the water to call emergency maintenance. They came and stopped the water and cleaned it up. So I got up the next morning and went to the hospital. They told me my son had a massive stroke. They wanted to do an MRI. They tried it once, but he would not keep still. They even wanted to strap him down. So they tied him down and intubated him. He kept joking and coughing and yelling. That was a hard sight for a mother to see. I was terrified. I started to panic and cry. They told me to get out. They came and got me after two hours. So I saw my son lying there with tubes coming out of his nose and mouth. Then they took him in an ambulance to another hospital. I went home, and they said, "We'll get back to you later. " That night, I thought my son. . .