Though I had moments of deep sleep at Harborview’s neuro ICU, more often than not brief lapses into sleep were interrupted by nurses and/or assistants dropping in to administer meds, take vitals, draw blood, or change my sleep position to prevent pressure sores. Of all the various scheduled procedures the position changes were the most disruptive.

In my weakened state at the time changing positions, such as being tilted left or right, would be enough to drastically alter my blood pressure, sometimes causing dizziness. It would also cause coughing fits due to the movement loosening mucus built up around my trach tube. Because of the difficulty coughing and swallowing, I needed the assistance of a suction tube to be able to breathe.

When I was able to sleep deeply enough to dream, I dreamt of walking and exploring familiar environments from the past (usually schools and workplaces). Such dreams continue to be the most common type to this day and probably stem from an innate need to explore. I’m always walking alone and never encounter others in the various environments. Sometimes I find useful items like a flashlight which I need to use, for the buildings I explore are often dark (though for some reason I never feel afraid or anxious, just curious). After a few months of using a wheelchair I’d occasionally realize within the dream that I shouldn’t be able to walk and would wake up immediately after having that thought.

Because of the lack of deep sleep during the night in addition to the regular doses of meds, I was often tired throughout the following day. Even communication was tiring despite it usually being one-way and requiring simple yes/no answers. Listening comprehension was itself a struggle at the time, which was why I opted to listen to music rather than podcasts.

For communicating more detailed information, Danielle had to review with me a system taught by a speech therapist at the trauma ICU (which I had no memory of). It was a simple but tedious way to spell out words using a laminated grid with color-coded quadrants containing a set of letters in alphabetical order.

To communicate a specific word I would indicate the color of the quadrant with the first letter of the word by silently saying the name of the color (hoping the listener can read lips) while focusing my eyes on the quadrant linked to the color. Once the correct quadrant was understood I would mouth the name of the letter and if the listener didn’t understand they would have to ask yes or no for each letter in the section. When the correct letter was found they would write it down and move to the next until the word was deduced.

Fortunately this system didn’t need to be used very often at neuro ICU, mostly when Danielle or my mom wanted to help me select media to keep myself distracted while bedridden and unable to talk. Finding something I wanted to watch was often difficult because what I had in mind was something escapist yet relevant, abstract but not overly convoluted and with a message of hope. The films that helped me most to get through those times were Strawberry Mansion, Linoleum, and The Fall. In addition I had time to rewatch dystopian fare I’ve always enjoyed such as Children of Men and Max Headroom.

Danielle and my mom spent much of the time monitoring my health and getting help from nurses as needed, providing water and the suction tube when needed, working on medical, insurance, and financial matters, and offering words of support which I could acknowledge but not reciprocate. I imagined it might have been almost as traumatic watching me go through various ordeals as experiencing them first-hand. Later in the week it was determined I was ready to sit in a wheelchair, which initially wasn’t pleasant but at least it gave me something to do.