Posted in Abuse & Bullying on December 22nd, 2009
Tags: bullying, caregiver, disabled, home care, stress, stroke

Bullying in Courtenay, Comox Valley caused stress that led to a stroke leaving  my husband permanently disabled, requiring caregiver home care support for the rest of his life.  

Bully’s actions in the Comox Valley caused so much stress, my husband had a serious stroke leaving him physically and mentally disabled for the rest of his life. Both of our lives were destroyed by these bullies and they just walked away. This is our story of how we had to fight for our sanity  and lives

It was a cold crisp winter day in Edmonton.  I was eight years old when I was walking to school, trying to count in my head how old I would be at the turn of the century. Wow, I will be 41 or 42 years old in 2000 and wondered in amazement what life would be like.  Thirty-three years later, I thought back to that innocent time in my life and wished I could turn back time to divert the nightmare my life had become.

Early spring 2000, my husband, Barry, and I are house hunting. Even though we were separated at that time and residing in an apartment complex with both of us living just down the hall from one another, my instincts told me to find a house for Barry and me to move into. For some reason, which I could not understand at the time, the house had to be on ground level with no stairs, within walking distance to the down town area, and had to have two living quarters – one side for me and the other side for Barry.

Barry and I were a family and very good friends, so this unusual living arrangement would work for us.

For weeks, when ever we had the chance, I made Barry drive up and down the streets of Courtenay looking for that special house my instincts desperately told me to search for. One Sunday morning in March, I woke up knowing the house we were searching for was in the Old Orchard area of town, so early that morning Barry and I took a walk to the older part of town, letting my intuitive senses guide us to our new home.

Barry and I were walking in the Old Orchard area and  remember walking up one street, only to stop, feeling we were on the wrong street and had to take the other street one block up. Over the years Barry had come to trust my intuitive sense and pulled me on to the next street where we came across an older home, which years before had mentioned to Barry, I could feel sadness emanating from the house and would not like to live there, no matter how quaint the house seemed with its lovely front porch. This little house that was now calling to me was so run down and in such terrible condition that Barry could not take me seriously when I said, “This is the house we are to live in,” and continued to stroll down the street, enjoying the sunshine and the perfect peacefulness of the old neighborhood.

The next day, I returned back to the Old Orchard house just as the owner of the house was walking out the front door.  After introducing myself and explaining my interested in renting the main house and the attached In-law suite, the owner, a bit surprised, replied that he had just purchased the house and had not yet advertised the property for rent as he was in the middle of renovations.  

After a guided tour, I was concerned the house certainly required loving care, but the owner promised the home would be up to code when he was finished with the renovations in a few weeks time. Regardless of the bad condition the house was in and my feelings of sadness emanating from the house years before, I knew this was our new home whether Barry and I liked it or not.

On April 9, 2000, one week after signing the lease and a few weeks to moving day, Barry had a serious stroke leaving him physically and mentally disabled and confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Weeks before his stroke, Barry continually complained of “acid indigestion” but refused to see a doctor. Looking back, I had to wonder with all the stress Barry was under at the time, if medical intervention could have prevented Barry’s stroke or if some things in life are just fated, for good or bad.

Barry had two strokes. Eight hours after the first stroke while at home, Barry had a very serious near fatal stroke in the hospital’s ICU.  Barry was brought back from the dead with such brain damage, he was left physically and mentally disabled and confined to a wheelchair; changing his life and mine forever.

While Barry’s life was in limbo, I was not sure what to do. Should I prepare for a funeral, or should Barry live, do I place him into long term nursing care, which was suggested due to his physical disability? I even had thoughts of Barry recovering after a year or so and returning back to work – how naïve I was.

I stayed with Barry at the hospital each day supporting him, and learned to care for him, all the while having the added responsibility of returning home each evening to pack up my apartment, and now Barry’s apartment as we had to move into the Old Orchard home in just a few weeks time, and still had to run my demanding Internet business on top of everything.

Barry’s apartment looked like a war zone of someone having lived there without ever throwing anything away for years. Even though Barry lived down the hall from me, I visited his apartment only a few times and when I did, he had taken the time to clean up a bit. Barry must have become very ill in the last few months before his stroke, because his apartment was now an absolute disaster zone.

Barry’s apartment was filthy and filled with books covering all of the floor space with no room to walk and his kitchen cupboards, refrigerator and all the kitchen counter space was stacked with canned food. I had to send thirteen great big banana boxes (24 x 18 x 10) packed with canned goods to the food bank.

Barry had an estimated amount of 3000 lbs of books in storage lockers and in his apartment. I had to sort through every item that belonged to him, making piles of what to keep, what give to the second hand store, and what to throw in the dumpster. It was absolute insanity and was left stunned with the hoarding and living conditions Barry was living in. I had filled up the apartment complex dumpster with junk four times and sent many boxes of items to the second hand store.

Barry’s books where all packed into boxes, (I had to pack and stack) weighing 50 lbs or more each really should have gone to the dump, but had to respect Barry’s attachment to them (should he live) and had all 60 boxes of books moved to the new place. (Note eventually after one year of dealing with the boxes of books stacked in Barry’s kitchen and back room, I was able to convince Barry to donate the books to the friends of the library for their annual sale.)

The items that where salvageable, were sorted into piles, washed down, and then sorted and packed into boxes for moving day. With heartfelt thanks to Dorthi Winner who rounded up staff members from North Island College where Barry was employed, to help move us into our new home in the Old Orchard area.

Within all the chaos of Barry’s apartment, I noted Barry was using a total of seven different day planners at one time to organize his schedule for his work at North Island College, all of which were found misplaced amongst the piles of hoarded goods. Was Barry suffering from loss of memory?

Obviously, Barry was not well for some time, even wondering if he may have had a silent stroke months before. It occurred to me that maybe Barry felt so overwhelmed of having to deal with the chaos in his apartment that just the thought of moving had caused the stroke. I still had to question why did Barry start hoarding massive amounts of books and food and items that really should have gone to the dump?

This change in Barry’s behavior started a few months previously.  During this time Barry also complained of constant heart burn. From Barry’s hording of books, food and junk and his memory loss, Barry must have been suffering from depression, so what was the cause?

Much later, after putting two and two together, I knew Barry was under extreme stress at the time of his stroke which was caused by immature young men in the Comox Valley bullying him by repeatedly tipping over his car, a collector’s model, Austin Mini Cooper onto its side.

Gas would saturate the inside of the car and Barry was forced to inhale the fumes while driving to and from work each day. Also the concern of the added expense of requiring a tow truck each morning to delicately pull the car back over on to its tires time and time again, and the on-going frustration of being late for work each time he was victimized must have seriously affected his health.

Barry must have felt so helpless, that he became so depressed from these bullies victimizing him and damaging a car he just loved, that he had psychologically created a wall by hoarding items in his apartment to protect himself.

So, if anyone in the Comox Valley has ever heard of anyone tipping over a bright blue Austin Mini from 1999 – 2000, let me know, as I would like these individuals to understand the harm their stupidly cost us. These bullies had damaged our lives which we will never recover from.

No matter how bad life becomes, you always need to have faith and to focus on the next step of recovery. With this in mind, I did not focus on Barry dying, but continued to focus on Barry’s home coming.

Renting the house in the Old Orchard area was a sign Barry was meant to live at home and with this determination, Barry’s In-law suite was converted into a hospital room, outfitted with a proper hospital bed, disability toilet, and bathing area, disability bars and poles to grab on to, wheelchair ramps where built and the removal of anything that could impede his mobility access.

Our land lord was wonderful in removing a bathroom wall for wheelchair access, building the wheelchair ramps and to install all of the safety bars. The medical authority arrived on the day Barry came home from the hospital to inspect the suite and ensure the disability safety standards where up to code. Barry arrived at his new home for the very first time and was grateful to be placed into his new hospital bed straight away as he was still in such a weakened state.

It was close to three months after Barry had his stroke and he still had very little strength to sit up in his wheelchair – even for five minutes each day took a lot out of him. Transferring Barry from the bed, wheelchair or toilet was very difficult for me to do by myself, as Barry was nothing more than a rag doll.  In the hospital it would take two nurses to transfer Barry properly.

After Barry was settled in for the day, the nurse, physiotherapist and inspector (I believe was from Occupational Safety) left Barry in my hands. Barry lay in his bed looking at me, started to cry. It was the first time I saw him cry in all the time we were together. In one way he was overwhelmed with everything and the home coming, but grateful to be out of the hospital.  At the same time Barry was afraid of the future.

Barry asked how I, meaning me – Xahnia, will manage to take care of him, a 5′10″man who couldn’t even sit up in bed or even sit on the toilet by himself without falling over, not even able to wipe his bottom after going to the toilet.

Barry was so disabled when he arrived home, and was now completely dependant on me for his every day life and care. His heart was breaking with the reality of his life. At that time there was more hope than know how, but some how, I said to him, we must manage. Little did I know what I was in for – As innocent as an eight year old!!

Barry’s home coming was only for a weekend trial basis, a precaution set by the hospital to see how I would cope with Barry’s disability. My stubborn determination kept Barry at home, keeping him from returning back to the hospital or being institutionalized in an extended care nursing home, where I knew he would die of emotional and psychological starvation. I was now “committed” to live in Barry’s world, which at times had to question the sanity of it all.

SUMMARY:

HOME CARE – A service provided by either a loved one or is paid for to care for elderly, frail or disabled persons.

CAREGIVER – A person who takes on the roll caring for a loved one in need.

STROKE – prolonged stress produces high levels of cortisol which can cause the blood to clot causing a stroke.

DISABLED – A stroke can permanently disable a person confining them to a wheelchair for life.

BULLYING – can cause serious stress, such as in Barry’s situation where he had a stroke.

STRESS – The stress caused by these bullies caused Barry to have a stroke.

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