I’m a side-sleeper, sometimes back but not stomach. Nothing about sleeping on my stomach is comfortable for me. So, when nurses told me that I should try spending more time on my stomach than on my side or back, I said the “obvious” – “I can’t get comfortable on my stomach.”
I was not outright turning them down or saying I wouldn’t try, but it always felt like a suggestion, and I was already uncomfortable.
I don’t know how many nurses told me that I needed to spend more time prone (laying on my stomach) but finally one came in and gave me the sense of urgency I needed.
She explained to me that by laying on my stomach, my lungs would have more space to expand, while taking pressure off them, allowing me to heal. She said it would ultimately help me breathe and, not only be the difference between needing to be intubated and not but quite possibly, the difference between living and dying.
That conversation made laying prone a greater priority for me, but I was still dealing with the issues of asking for help.
Here’s a little more back story to help you understand where I was. Every time I moved; my oxygen levels dropped and I was left gasping for air. Even if I just rolled from my back to my side. Sometimes the drop would be 10-15% or more. Feeling like I was suffocating was terrifying, especially when I already had oxygen being forced into my nose and mouth. It felt hopeless and distressing. And, since I had the idea that lying on my stomach would create more pressure on my already taxed lungs (a story I told myself) there was an added stigma to even trying.
Add to that the muscle weakness and all the wires I was attached to and I was absolutely certain that unless someone came in and physically helped me get onto my stomach, I wouldn’t be able to do it.
Do you see all the fears wrapped up in this and the way they colored my narrative of the situation? Here were my thoughts about laying prone:
- It put pressure on my lungs and make breathing harder.
- It will be incredibly uncomfortable.
- I’ll feel like I’m suffocating even more than I am.
- The bipap mask will squish into my face and be even more uncomfortable than it is.
- If I need to roll over, I’ll have to wait for help so once I’m prone, I’m stuck there.
- I won’t be able to reach water and adjust my mask to take drinks.
The more I dwelled on these things, the less I wanted to lay on my stomach but when I realized that I had nothing to base my story on and that doing this may be the difference between living and dying I was finally willing to try.
I was blessed to have a lot of amazing nurses while I was in ICU, one of them was a young, traveling nurse. She helped me normalize being bathed, did my hair in side-buns so I could be comfortable in the mask, made me laugh, and she was the first one to get me on my stomach. I’m going to share the story because while I was scared, I was also motivated and willing because of her enthusiasm.
THE AUDACITY OF YOUTH
This was the first day I’d been out of bed to sit in a recliner. My young nurse friend came in and congratulated me on the accomplishment and we talked about how exhausting and exciting it was. Then she asked me since I had already accomplished something big, if I was ready to try getting on my stomach and I said, “yes.” I don’t recall anyone else asking if I needed help to do it, I think she was the first. I could be wrong. A lot of things are still a blur.
She was THRILLED. Like, seriously, giddy with excitement as she pointed to the hoist on the ceiling and explained how she and her counterpart would set it all up so it would lift me up, and they’d roll me over, and it would all be good.
She helped me back into the recliner and set things up on the bed to use the hoist. (I know there is a correct word for it but I don’t know what it is, so you’re stuck with “hoist.”) All the while, she talked and laughed, and encouraged me, and told me how great this was going to be for me.
Then the CNA assisting her came in, and she was also laughing and having a great time with the whole thing. They helped me back to the bed and onto the netting that was going to lift me off the bed and put me back on it. I seriously had no clue how it was going to work, none of it made sense, but I went with it knowing I’d figure it out along the way.
I stifled a laugh as I heard them try to figure out how the harness worked with the hoist and which colors to connect in which order to which hook. It occurred to me that they had never done this before, at least with this set-up, but they were filled with that audacity of youth that makes everything seem possible and easy if you just jump in and I trusted that audacity as I prayed silently.
I don’t know how long the process took, but eventually, I was all wrapped up in this harness, with my arms folded over my chest, hanging over my bed, listening to these two nurses talking through the process and figuring things out as they went. Hanging there I realized that there was no way the hoist was necessary or helpful in any way. They would have to lower me, right back to the bed, still on my back, and help me physically rather than with the hoist. Which is exactly what they did.
Lowered back on the bed, I rolled onto my side. My nurse dragged me back across the bed, gave me a little shove, and there I was on my stomach. Together we figured out how to adjust the pillows. There was a lot of celebration and giggling, and congratulating going on between the two nurses as they reconnected all my wires.
Only after I was on my stomach did I realize I was not “stuck” keeping my legs straight and my face buried in the pillow or mattress. I could turn my head and move my arms and legs to get comfortable. Other than all the tubes and wires getting messed up every time I moved, being on my stomach became the most comfortable position for me; and, once I got there, I realized that I could do it by myself.
Several days later, another nurse showed me how to get back into the bed in a way that made getting onto my stomach much easier.
None of my fears were facts and they weren’t based on experience or knowledge but they were the foundation for the story I had told myself about laying on my stomach. Even now that I’m home, I sleep on my stomach when I go to bed and when I’m having rough breathing days, I go in and lay prone and just allow my lungs to relax. I look forward to it. But it took someone coming along with a different perspective, and the heart to walk with me through the fear, to change the story.
Sometimes we need help changing our perspective. We can be willing, but we may not be equipped yet to do it ourselves. This is why community and fellowship are so important. Having people around us that challenge our fears rather than agree with them, and who take us by the hand and “hoist” us past them so we can experience the truth and rewrite our narratives is vital.
There is value in connecting with people of different ages and experience levels around. The audacity to youth that has yet to be tainted by fear and doubt; the strength in the wisdom and experience of older generations; and the comradery of our peers make life richer; and ensures we don’t grow stagnant or complacent, stuck in the mire of fear, wrong perceptions, and old stories that keep us from journeying forward in faith and confidence.
