The Four Walls of My Freedom: Lessons I've Learned from a Life of Caregiving
Donna Thomson
Language: English
Pages: 262
ISBN: 1770894799
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
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An adult, the extent to which he pursues interests and enjoys a life that he values is wholly dependent on the assistance of caregivers, together with technological support. Nicholas is reliant on technology to eat, breathe, speak and remain pain free. He is tube-fed by an electric pump and uses an oxygen-saturation monitor at night to alert the carer if he stops breathing. Nicholas has used a switch-operated speaking computer and has used adapted software to learn at school. Recently, by.
Support after Jim and I are gone. I know that other friends or family members can never replace Jim and me in Nicholas’ life, and I also know that Natalie cannot shoulder that responsibility alone. The letters in PLAN stand for Planned Lifetime Advocacy Networks. What do network members do? In the early years of PLAN, the status quo for people requiring care in their community was to receive services and participate in programs funded by tax dollars. No one imagined that people with.
Home to find Nick had fallen asleep, exhausted. The surgery held for two years, until Nicholas’ hip dislocated again. I did not think that any nightmare could be worse than the bleak time after Nick’s first hip surgery, but I was wrong. In 2003, when Nicholas began to show signs of pain again and the x-ray showed that his hip had begun to come out of the socket a second time, I asked our surgeon about treatment options. His response was that a second major repair was out of the question. A.
That Nicholas’ significant needs could be much better met elsewhere.” I tried to reason and then plead with the head teacher, but to no avail. I was angry and desperately worried about our future without a plan. I hadn’t counted on being turned away. Carol Greenaway, our educational psychologist and kind co-strategist, came with me to visit a couple of special schools on offer. In the parking lot after the visit, we looked at each other over the car roof and shook our heads simultaneously. When.
Out!” I circulated a celebratory photograph to the family showing Nicholas munching on the baptismal order of service. I called it “Nicholas trying to digest organized religion.” By that time, Nick and I were already regulars at the local rehabilitation centre where we attended physio, occupational and speech therapies every week. The speech therapist was a kind, enthusiastic woman from New Jersey. I joked with her that when Nicholas learned to talk, he’d be taken for a Yank. In her small white.