SNN_August 2020 Issue FA_low res

SPINAL NETWORK NEWS 15
Telling It Like It Is
Teina Boyd’s Column
I cried last night.
Twice.
Once from overwhelming gratitude. Love.
The other from regret. This couldn’t be the end...
Rewind.
Volleyball nationals and its semi-final night. Two of my
best mates are out there playing hard, and I’m SO excited.
Great volley everywhere and I’m surrounded by beautiful
friends.
Literally surrounded.
Flopped over in my wheelchair beside a packed-out
bleacher, I was having a pressure relief.
Toots chatting away in one ear, keeping me updated on
the scores while my eyes were down in action. Leigh
snuggled up on my right armrest. Damo leaning on the
back of my chair - being patient with my little man as he
asks a million questions, Nick standing nearby... where
he’s been for the last two days.
I feel loved.
I can’t tell you how much this all means to me. My friends
treating my chair so mundanely. It’s not a huge white
elephant in the room, or something to avert your eyes
from. It’s just...my chair.
Leigh puts her hand on my back, and Toots asks if I’m
ready to come up. Their love and acceptance of my
disability - it floors me.
Heke ana nga roimata. The tears fall.
How happy can one person be? Is there a limit? If there is
- I’m stretching it.
Toots lifts me back up in my chair as I try to keep my face
down and hide the tears. She sees anyway. Damn it. I
explain. I’m just happy. And grateful. And I love them.
Cue hugs from the girls and one of the guys telling me to
“Shush Man”. It’s enough to make me laugh and get back
into the games.
Fast forward.
Both courts are on the fifth set.
Something’s wrong.
I thought I was just getting excited - short quick breaths.
Sadly, that wasn’t the case. I could feel my heart speeding
up, my lungs getting harder to use (weak things that they
are), my body starting to sweat and a headache creeping
in.
Shit. Autonomic Dysreflexia. My body is trying to warn
Teina Boyd is a regular columnist with the NZST helping others with an SCI.
me something’s seriously wrong.
I need to lower my blood pressure. Quick.
“Sharon, we need to leave, now please”.
This last week my volleyball family have done such an
amazing job at welcoming me back, I don’t want to pay
them back by having a heart attack in the middle of the
semi-finals.
Sharon and I get in the van and boost. The hospital is so
far away. Damn it.
“GO Sharon, get me home now, I’ll pay the tickets.”
(Silver lining: Sharon, my carer, is great at ignoring speed
limits)
Home has everything I need to fix this, and quick.
The headache becomes all consuming. There are
moments where I lose my vision, others when I just see
red. The pain is only just bearable. I have to stay ‘with it’, I
have to instruct my carers to tell them how to fix me.
Police lights. Shit. I’m declining fast.
“Sharon, pull over. Get out. Come to me”.
She does.
“Take my binder off please, we need to lower my blood
pressure. I’ll talk to him”.
She’s panicking, fumbling with my top. Shit, last thing I
need.
“Deep breaths Sharon, you’re doing awesome”. I try to
smile for her.
He’s there. Yellow neon police vest hurts my eyes. I don’t
let him talk.
“Sir. I need you to listen. I don’t have long. I am suffering