MS day at Home Health Care

Today I popped into a MS day exhibit at my local home health store. I knew it would be depressing, but I wasn't adequately prepared for the downer it gave me. One lady was consulting about incontinence pads. "Are you largely incontinent?" asked the sales lady "Unfortunately, yes," said the lady. The sales lady then bustled about, gathering large diaper things, pads for the chair, waterproof panties, etc, etc.
Beside her was a lovely lass in a wheelchair, touting supplements that made her feel much better. Not enough better to get her out of her wheelchair or give her back the use of her right arm, but...and only $150 a month. "The only thing for progressive MS," she said. "my neurologist said if it seemed to be helping I should keep it up." My nurses mind whispered, "placebo effect" and I wandered on.
I asked about scooters. The helpful lady at the counter said that I should check with my neurologist because "sometimes the disease progresses so quickly that they want you to go right into a power wheelchair". !!!!!!!!!!
So I bought a swanky multicoloured cane and a hand exercising ball which puts my hand into a spasm just to look at it, but I will persist. And I fled. Quickly, my life gathered into one twitchy fist, feeling it slip through my numb fingers, stepping on its fabric as I stumbled towards my car. It's a wobbly day today, I told my friend. I need the cane today. Again.

Looking out from behind my face

It's early spring here in this lovely country town. I'm striding along, cane swinging artlessly from one hand, balancing me as I weave gently from side to side. It's warm enough to go coatless - an unspeakable gift - but not one to be trusted, not yet, not til the plants kick in...and Easter is past...and the nights get above freezing...
As I walk along the road, past the Greek-Canadian-Pizza restaurant, past the storage facility located unattractively beside the churchyard, past the huge Catholic church that looks benignly down on the town, too old to have much vigor, I marvel at the concept that I've lived for over 50 years. It just doesn't seem right. Inside my head, I'm still less than 30, still wakening to the sun on my face, on my arms.
The cane doesn't matter. It's the inside girl who does, the one who is mentally running, skipping, filled with the joy of spring.

Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter. Mark Twain (1835-1910)

Wheezing and wobbling in worn out shoes

Took my newly stabbed buttocks for a walk today - my first since my dear doggums went to another family who could play with him (as vs lie about and look at him). It was raining, so I had my Kansas City Star umbrella with me - it has all sorts of comic strips printed on it, including the ever-wonderful Calvin and Hobbes . It was a good thing, too, as the umbrella is tall enough to act as a light cane. It swings with a sufficient swagger to make the use of it as this less disabling than it appears.

So off I went, sauntering down to the post office, Queen's Radio Gah Gah playing in my headphones. It was the perfect pace down to the post office...

On the way back, I needed a slower pace - and I had stopped for coffee and a sit down downtown....The umbrella swung with more effect now, and my old running shoes developed a gasp to match mine - each step one shoe says "eeee", then "ahhh". Quite apropos.

Tomorrow, I'm wearing more cheerful shoes, to go with the cane I'm buying. It's all part of the new DA look - cheerful but deteriorating.

Mobility with style

So, as I lose my mobility, inch by inch, yard by yard, I am starting to examine the funky ways I can get around.
There are canes of course - which run the range from pretty floral collapsible things to long bull's penises, varnished and tough. I'd be tempted by the latter but men already have worries about size, so I think walking about with one that long might put an end to my dating entirely. So instead I am torn between buying a plain one with a comfy handle and painting it myself, and getting a fancy one like the photo.
Then there's the scooter option. I'm not enamoured of the walker idea. I'm hoping to do without that. I'm dreaming of a 5.5 mph scooter with a high street clearance that I can drive like a maniac all over town. I sense disabled activism in my future, as Kingston is not accessible by a long shot.

The problem is the idea of losing my walking ability seems novel now, just a minor incapacity as I still feel I can (mostly) walk. But like the numbness was just a fun thing to start (until it moved in to stay), as it gets more familiar, I am losing important things - my typing ability, for example (I can't feel the keys). And I am losing my ability to sew things cos I can't feel the needle anymore.
So I suspect the mobility thing might lost its novelty fairly soon. But in the meantime, I can dream of speed....