Polaris Indy Front Suspension Adjustment

Physiotherapy

since my feet had started to move, my father took advantage of every day the little time they had available during the hours of visits to massage, stretch, control the force that put the points against the palms of his hands . In the meantime he told me about the current political situation, it was from him that I learned of the house of Monte Carlo Fini and death of Cossiga. Sometimes I also read the press reports that he prepared: The articles in his opinion the most interesting I read them when he came to see me.
sometimes lowered his voice because he afraid to go to crazy with the nurses.

Meanwhile, the doctors saw my small improvements, they managed to get me inside the hospital a physiotherapist from the week of August, took care of me.
Both doctors that nurses have shown to me, that I will be one of the youngest guests of the department, a great feeling and I felt pampered and protected by all.
When I began to chew, and then to eat solid and liquid, and not just cream, a sweet nurse, when he was on duty in the morning, I wore a warm croissant and I love this attention, in addition to their croissants.

Sometimes the nurses made me stay up to two hours sitting on a chair, a position that caused me pain in the adductor similar to that caused by a stretch, but it was the only way to stretch those muscles that had remained too long, inert and atrophic . In any event, for example in hygiene, spurred me to make those little gestures that could speed up recovery, and may seem silly, but in my case my hair or brush my teeth fell within the list. It was painful, but I was taking control of my body.

From the tips of fingers, arms, neck, physical therapist and his students every day, weekends, devoted an hour to my rehabilitation. To the rest of the time we thought nurses.

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Awakening

The day after undergoing a tracheostomy, while the nurse was cleaning me and I turned first on one side and then the other, perhaps because of those moves, I gave a Scripting nausea and stomach . I will not get into too much detail, suffice it to say that the resurgence of artificial feeding is dangerous, because the material could fall into the digestive airways, with consequences that you can imagine. It was then placed the bag containing the artificial feeding lower than my body, to stop the flow that normally reaches the stomach by taking advantage of gravity.
Later, through the tube, I was injected into the stomach to empty any remaining, half a liter of Coca Cola, drink me, among other things, has never liked.
Clearly it does not feel the taste, but I felt only the passage of this cold liquid into the esophagus and very crisp. The solution worked, and my stomach in just a few hours emptied completely and began to be felt the pangs of hunger. Shortly thereafter, I removed the nasogastric tube. I remember that I asked before anesthesia, a request that the doctor did smile, which confirmed to me that despite my fears, the removal will cause pain, if anything, a slight discomfort.
several meters long seemed to me, never ended estrarmelo of the nose.

The next day I made my first meal.
remember the writing on the package that accompanied the platter, when I arrived on the bed and tracheostomized diet consisted of a jar of baby food with meat, mashed potatoes and apple pulp.
I was happy as a child and it seemed the most delicious I had ever tasted.

the same days, I realized that my legs, slowly but surely, they were waking up and I could finally move his feet. I understood when one day, my mother who came to see me, I asked him to cut my toenails pulled and one out from the sheets, to make her understand what I meant when I was a gesture of the index and middle fingers that open and close a gap. Those two fingers were no longer the only part of my body I could move.

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tracheotomy

When the end of the first week when I was intubated, the doctor told me I should "give it a try" to see my self in breathing, I am reminded of the episodes of ER, where, when someone was extubated, he coughed the blood before returning to breathing normally. I was still very much in mind when, just days before, I could not cough and the idea of \u200b\u200bdying while trying to cough breathe and terrified me.
In addition, I had already explained that it is generally not advisable to extubation and reintubation a patient, because it increases the risk of infection.
One morning just came to my room and told me today I extubation. I started to cough before touching me.
I was half an hour without a tube, the oxygen mask over his mouth and the hand of my doctor. In the end, a beautiful hyperventilation, and a healthy dose of curare was reintubation.

Nearly a week after I was already out of time for the tube, in the long run can give over to infection, even injury to the trachea. Just stared at the August 2 date on which I was tracheostomized.
My long-evaluated this hypothesis that the doctors had suggested earlier and finally agreed, by signing the form. The doctors told them that, even if they refused, they would proceed anyway, given the critical nature of my condition.
remember that in the instant before that I shot in the mood for sleep morphine and curare, held the hand of my favorite nurse, looking terrified and tear down.

I know my mother would come into my room even though the doctors had said I was still under anesthetic and that came out in tears soon after. He had resisted the vision of her daughter with her eyes slightly open and globes facing backwards.

When I woke up, despite all the fears before the operation, I became immediately aware that the tracheostomy tube was less annoying. It was not as painful as I expected, indeed. In fact I felt only a slight tingling in my throat.

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The second and third week

When I was intubated, I had the same quote a nasogastric tube, stomach I have to keep working, the doctors said, and anyway I was not able to swallow anything in my state, let alone with an endotracheal tube in the mouth .
One can imagine the situation: intubated with nasogastric tube, sensors for pressure, pulse, breathing rate and blood saturation attack on chest, the frequency index finger, and IV needles in both arms, urinary catheters and diapers. I could not be said to be happy in those days.
wondering why they put down at night, alone I would never be able to sleep. So every night around 2330-2400, a good bolus of Diprivan happy to send me that longed darkness.
not always. Sometimes Diprivan was not enough. I was so frustrated at losing control of my body that I was afraid of losing even one in my own mind, and my anxiety made me fight the effects of the tranquilizer. Doctors and nurses were often astonished to see me still awake after that dose, I have confirmed, is used in open-heart surgery. From there to earn the nickname of toxic, the step was short. Sometimes I had to add morphine to Diprivan and then left for a pleasant trip and absurd. I remember the explosion of colors, red and ocher, above all, that made me think of being inside a painting by Gauguin. In the background, but far, far away, the noises of the hospital.

the morning, my day always started with the cleaning lady: one of those people who always knows everything about everyone, which makes it useful in department also responding to phone and intercom, that unsolicited advice, and express medical opinions of dubious nature. All this clearly using an equal volume of voice, in decibels, with a lorry on a country road. If, sometimes, not the spirit to enter the ward for the start of his turn, to 0600, because we have made, I was still in the arms of Morpheus, I was catapulted into the world of the living by his brush, which you, in the noble intention of clean my room, banging against the metal frame of my bed over and over again. It was not just noise. There was also that the nausea, in more than one occasion, I remember I tried to swing to his beat on my bed which had wheels, even if it slowed down, causing.
he did not intentionally, of course, I was to be totally intolerant. At the shift change
0700, dismantled the doctors and nurses on the night shift and those attacking the morning. The smell of coffee and croissants that someone never did fail at that time of day and I teased my nostrils infinitely saddened not being able to taste. Then began
hygiene. I detached the diapers, I washed (ah cool what a pleasure that water flowing between my legs!), I put a clean diaper and I changed the sheets. To accomplish this, I turned first on one side then the other moving away from each side to change the sheets and putting clean ones. Not being able to work much to any of these operations, nurses anchored me to the bed, his arms around the side bars, so as not to fall backwards as they change underwear. All with the fear of losing the tube but, fortunately, remained firmly anchored in my trachea and I followed every movement. The hours passed

always too slow in my room all glass, which gave the room in which were placed 10 more beds with many patients. I remember that the air conditioning was often so strong for the size of the room that I needed a blanket to avoid freezing to death. The air came from a nozzle positioned exactly above my head and often thought that if I ever recovered from Guillain Barre Syndrome, I suffered from chronic trigeminal neuralgia for the rest of my life.

addition to thinking about permanent damage caused by the air conditioning, my daily activities was also to assess the consequences of prolonged intake of tranquilizers (I was convinced I would soon be recovered addict) in the count and count the ceiling tiles, listen to the conversations and discussions between nurses, doctors and, above all, follow with trepidation every resuscitation attempt of some hapless, mostly old people and terminally ill, which often, unfortunately, ended in the demise of the patient. The excitement, the and then just silence the cries of relatives.

At 1500, finally came the time of the visits.
all day just waiting to see my parents, my brother, my partner and my friends, but time was not enough. My mood was not, as you can imagine, really happy, so my father had asked everyone to come and visit me as often as they could, trying to pull up my morale.
Among the various drugs, I was convinced I would soon cause dependence, there were also anti-depressants and sedatives, which had the effect to reduce me to an almost lethargic: I could hardly keep my eyes open. Just imagine how I could appreciate all this coming and going of the people (in the Departments of Intensive Care, to minimize the risk of infection, you will enter one at a time wearing sterile gowns and shoe covers): in fact, what I wanted most was that one half 'now go as fast as possible, to get back to sleep. So, to summarize, before I was looking forward to the 1500 to see friends and relatives, after they left I just wanted them all.

During this time the paralysis had become total, the only movement that I was given was that the index of the right hand, with which I called the nurses lifting, or hit it against the bars of the bed side, in hope that some of them to see me or hear me. I also discovered that one can use part of my body still moved to draw the letters of the words on the palms of the hands of doctors and nurses communicate well and what I need. Often, just writing "head straight", which meant that I needed that my head was put back in line with the neck, because maybe you had slipped on one side and by itself could not move it.

My partner is aware of my index finger, had devised a system more miraculous for me to communicate. He bought a sewing thimble stuck in a tiny piece of pencil, I brought a notepad, and support the wrist allowed me to write in true sense of the word.
From that moment all my communication was by means of the pencils on the thimble.

Tengo still kept all the notes I wrote from my hospital room. The calligraphy uncertain, some words unreadable and a great desire to talk and most importantly, to return to normal.

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Days 5:06 - intubation

The doctor, at my express request, I have finished treatment with immunoglobulins, because I see no improvement, indeed, I was totally paralyzed, she answered honestly, the disease has yet to reach its peak, and generally This occurs in 2-3 weeks. I became discouraged.
not now not even moved his arms and breathing had become more difficult. Neurologists subjected me to a electromyography, examination used to determine the driving time of the nerve impulse: more time, more damage to the myelin nerves, the more difficult movements.
From the expression of the face of the doctor realized that my latency was very long.
addition, they can not swallow, I had to spit my saliva on piles of gauze that nurses put me in the neck to avoid getting wet. The evening of the first day I had a respiratory crisis, but the nurses and me sitting on the bed with a little of tapping (they called it that) I stopped coughing.
In fact, coughing is not really the appropriate term. Since it also began to paralyze my diaphragm, I was not able to cough and every little itching in the throat resulted in desperate attempts to expectorate, followed clearly from the state of agitation which caused me to fail.
So when the second night in intensive care I was shaken by a new attack of my cough without cough, the nurse tried again the day before the operation, as they tried to put myself lying, face down and bust out of bed, fighting to turn back to help me cough. At one point I remember having experienced a burning sensation in the back that I asked the nurse stops beating. But the cough did not go and I fell asleep. And I intubation.
I remember when I woke up the next morning and found myself connected to this long green plastic tube. He looked like a wrinkled, one of those tubes that use electricity to move the wires. Only in passing that the oxygen that fan I pumped directly into the bronchial tubes.

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Day 4 - The diagnosis and resuscitation

They put a catheter after an hour and a half I was not able to make it into the pan.
Maybe I was inhibited by the fact of being in a large room, separated from other 30 people of every age and sex only a small screen, go find out.

I spent 24 hours in the ER of fat, including mosquitoes that did not give me rest and I could not break free, because I could not move, and older women who were kept under observation after fainting suspicions, telling me their stories.

I remember a girl with the pants seem to be so hot panties, white with hearts, who swore like a longshoreman because in the visit that they had found a broken wrist and was released when the plaster room , had not allowed to go outside to smoke a cigarette. In the end, weary of waiting, he went screaming like a possessed that he needed to smoke. She could have been little more than two decades.

I remember that during the night Mr Smith (his name just like that), an octogenarian with a bump that looked like an elf, was turning to the big room looking for his mother and nurses him back to bed while they laughed and touched his hump.

remember two doctors on duty in two nearby desks, in front of my bed: one of them was a boy of my age, very pretty, surrounded by all the nurses in the emergency room with voices speaking an octave higher than the normal. The other was a doctor and visited at the same time a number of patients 3 times more than those who visited him. Perhaps because he had no distractions. The morning came

neurologist diagnosed and corrected. It was then that for the first time I heard of Guillain-Barre Syndrome. I said it was an autoimmune disease triggered by an intestinal flu sometimes. The cross-reaction had caused my antibodies, instead of attacking the foreign agent, it is still unclear whether it was a virus or bacterium, they attacked my nerves of myelin, the sheath that leads to the impulse nerve damage and preventing the passage of the stimulus. That's why I was paralyzed. The therapy was still the same and so I continued with the immunoglobulins.
In the meantime, I was looking for a bed in some neurological intensive care unit and end they found one in the same hospital, upstairs. I needed to be monitored 24 hours, because doctors feared that the paralysis would soon reach the diaphragm, preventing me from breathing.
Upon arrival to the ICU fill my chest sensors, I attacked what I learned to be a frequency, but I called ditometro, to the great amusement of the doctors, and I fell asleep on me a lumbar puncture, which would confirm the diagnosis.

I woke up shortly after, the shot has already been executed and doctors and nurses now aims to revive an old woman who had gone into cardiac arrest. They gave her six vials of adrenaline, but she died anyway.

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Day 3 - The ambulance, the ER and diagnosis

the morning of July 21, Daniel kissed me before going to work and I asked, worried, if you were okay. Sure, I replied still half asleep. It was 0430, my alarm would play only two and a half hours later and did not want to miss a minute of sleep.
But not all was well.
Around 0630 I got up to pee, or rather, I tried to do it, but my legs did not want to learn to get out of bed, my hips could not turn allowing me to put my feet on the ground.
My muscles had simply stopped responding to any command.
I thought again that it was an exaggeration of my mind and started to take a sip from the glass of water I always keep on the nightstand. Extend your hand to complete this banal gesture was almost impossible, his arms were completely numb and I felt heavy unsustainably.
arrived after several attempts by the glass, he approached the edge of the lips and sent him down. I immediately noticed two things:
- which caused me pain swallowing;
- that, above all, I had not swallowed at all, given that water I had left the nose.
At that point I became convinced that it would be better to call an ambulance and take me to the emergency room but or live in a two-storey house and my room is on the bottom: if I could get out of bed, it would be impossible taking the stairs and open the door for the paramedics. So I phoned my parents who live in 10 minutes and that for any eventuality, have copies of house keys. The event usually consists of taking Emma (my labrador) and take you for a stroll when Daniel and I have the same turn, but this time was a bit more serious.
too alarmed, however, I did not want my mother, my intention was to say that I do not I felt too good and that might have been the case to take me to hospital.


But the voice that came out I was not my usual voice. It was mixed, fatigue, nasal. I realized that I had difficulty speaking and noticed my mother.
My parents arrived shortly thereafter, my father quickly realized my condition and took me in his arms on the top floor where I laid her on the couch waiting for the ambulance, which arrived a few minutes later.


The ambulance driver was an acquaintance of mine, a gentleman of about fifty, who had lost his daughter in twenty-two a car accident. She went with her to crash into a tree Smart, in a vain attempt to avoid one that had not stopped at the stop sign.
Ironically, f u him to intervene on the spot.


I lay down on the stretcher, I opened a path (a technical term to say that I slipped a needle into a vein), and departed. It was about 0745 and to avoid the rush hour traffic turned on the siren. I remember thinking that from inside the sound was much less annoying than outside.


the ER was immediately requested a neurological consultation and the specialist who saw me after have found that my tendon reflexes were almost absent and did an interview with me where I confirmed that I had an intestinal flu a couple of weeks before, I diagnosed Myasthenia Gravis and prescribed infusions of immunoglobulin, five infusions per day for five days.


however not convinced that I had the tingling in the arms.

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Day 1 Day 2

When I awoke the morning of July 20, after a dinner at which I drank more than one drink too many, I noticed that my legs were heavy and both my arms tingling, but all attributed to the aftermath a wild night. Do not ever overdo it with alcohol (do not drink very rarely), but the night before, aided by the hot Roman summer atmosphere and the fact that I celebrate my new job, contributed to excess. As the hours go
tingling, however, rather than decreasing, increased in intensity and so the feeling of heaviness in the legs. So, with the excuse to have a chat, I called my best friend, neurological physiotherapist, who among other things, and a gossip, I asked him what could have caused my symptoms. She reassured me, saying it was definitely an attack of cervical (who does not suffer?), Probably an aftermath of a small plugging in the car for which I was the victim, occurred months before, she scolded me for I had never really cured with a course of physiotherapy, although I had repeatedly recommended. In short, as they say in Rome, I cocks.
He suggested, however, take a Muscoril, Voltaren and wearing an orthopedic collar for a few hours. I followed her advice, and sent Daniel to buy the necessary.
the evening, however, began to feel worse, more tired and weaker, and the voice was taking a nasal timbre, and even though I thought that the latter symptom was more of a suggestion, Daniel began to worry and asked me to accompany me to the hospital. I refused. He The next morning he woke up at the 0400 to go to work and did not want him to spend the night in the emergency room for what I thought was little more than an impression.

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My story begins 19 July 2010, when out with friends for a pizza in a muggy and humid evening in Trastevere, crowded with tourists, I realized that the little finger and ring finger of my left hand had never stopped tingling, from the day. At first I had not noticed, I thought I had hit it somewhere (I was always so awkward) and that the tingling was perhaps the result of micro trauma on some nerve.
So I made my friends involved and Daniel, my partner, This persistent tingling, exaggerating the possible causes, brushing his head mimicking a mock swoon, saying things like "this is my time has come" and other similar nonsense. We laughed all. Sometimes, if the company is the right one, it takes very little for fun.

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Why a blog.

This is my first blog. And this is the first post of the first blog.
I decided to write after a close encounter with a monster that is called Guillain Barre Syndrome.
It 's a disease unknown to most, rare (affecting an average of 1.2 people per 100,000) and, in the acute phase, highly disabling.
It 's a disease that comes in the night, that paralyzes you in a few hours and makes you almost a vegetable in a few days.
But it is a disease from which you can heal and I'm here to testify.