After a lifetime of research, and an acute attention to detail, I am now ready to state my astounding, but true observation. What I have discovered over the years is that not everybody likes to be surprised. Do you find that surprising? I remember the first time I came to this realization, just like it was yesterday, (actually it was last week). I remember thinking to myself that this certainly is a shocker, (you thought I was going to say surprise didn't you? You think you have me figured out, and in fact, I'd be surprised if you didn't think I'd say that). The thing is that there are different kinds of surprises, and it really doesn't take any stretch of the imagination to realize that the vast majority of us do not like a bad or unexpected and unwelcome surprise. My official diagnosis of Cerebellar Ataxia in two-thousand and three comes to mind as a particularly unpleasant surprise, for example.
On the flip side of the bad, or nasty surprise, is a pleasant surprise. Events that spring into your life that bring vast amounts of joy, feelings of warmth, friendship or love. When, twenty-five years ago, my then-girlfriend said yes, or a few years later when I first learned that we were starting a family, I was overwhelmed. These were a few of the good surprises in my life, and are among other past events that I will always cherish.
Sometimes, however, the surprises start out as one type, but quickly fade into the other, say from good to bad. Such was the case a week ago when our van broke down as we were passing through the Oregon Coast Mountain Range, on our way home from the beach. The Highway we were traveling on was a very narrow, winding, and busy road, with only a few places that one can safely pull their vehicle off. Luckily, as soon as our car started to act up, we came upon a long and wide spot to pull over. The next problem we faced was that we were on a stretch of road through the mountains where there is absolutely no cell phone coverage, so we were entirely dependent on a passing motorist to stop and offer us some assistance. We turned on the emergency flashers and sent the universal message out to our fellow drivers that our car was broken down, by raising the hood. We also showed that we were desperate by walking around and waving our phones, in an attempt to obviously display that, "I don't have a signal over here, do you have one over there...ten feet away?". What appeared to be a pleasant surprise came about five minutes after we broke down. A car began to signal that it was going to pull off the road next to us and offer help. With a feeling of relief, I walked towards the car that had indeed started to pull over. But when the car stopped thirty yards away, it became evident that they were not stopping for us, but for another reason, which had become apparent when a young man and woman came hurtling out of the car. The bikini-clad woman ran into the trees for privacy while she made her contribution to nature, but the man had no fancies for anonymity. He only ran a few feet, stopped where all the passing cars could see, and......well, it was not a pleasant surprise. They sped off afterward. On reflection, I don't know if they even realized that we were there. The funny thing was that they had just passed a rest stop about a mile back.
In my third blog, named Reflections On Reflexes, I talked about my cat-like reflexes. One year later, although I still have cat-like reflexes, the rest of the story is that, sure, they continue to be cat-like....but it's a cat that has gotten into some fermented catnip, has already burned through eight of its nine lives, and is halfway through the last one. It doesn't take much to make me jump, and I have been trying to anticipate and limit surprises in my life. You might also remember from one of my early blogs that motion activated paper towel dispensers in public restrooms, and I usually don't mix. I never know if I'm expected to dance in front of it to get the quality paper towel to come out? Is that why there is music being pumped into the bathroom? Well, anyway, the reason I mentioned my reflexes, and paper towel dispensers, is because of what recently happened to me. While at a restaurant, I went to use the facilities and found myself in a small narrow room with only a sink and a toilet. I didn't notice the towel dispenser on the wall between the sink and the toilet, until on my approach to the bowl, my passing shoulder activated it, resulting in a loud grinding sound. I jumped but was afraid to turn around lest I hear laughing and see a drill bit menacingly approach as it twisting through the door. I soon realized what was going on and all was good....that is until I washed my hands and tried to activate the dispersal of a towel. No amount of hand waving would make the box give up its paper prize, and so I had to resort to bobbing back and forth in front of the blessed machine so that my shoulder would activate it. Maybe if they would have had music being piped in?
But, despite my best efforts to eliminate the everyday surprises in my life, with ataxia along for the ride, most of the time the best that I can do is grab a railing with each hand and hang on.
In my third blog, named Reflections On Reflexes, I talked about my cat-like reflexes. One year later, although I still have cat-like reflexes, the rest of the story is that, sure, they continue to be cat-like....but it's a cat that has gotten into some fermented catnip, has already burned through eight of its nine lives, and is halfway through the last one. It doesn't take much to make me jump, and I have been trying to anticipate and limit surprises in my life. You might also remember from one of my early blogs that motion activated paper towel dispensers in public restrooms, and I usually don't mix. I never know if I'm expected to dance in front of it to get the quality paper towel to come out? Is that why there is music being pumped into the bathroom? Well, anyway, the reason I mentioned my reflexes, and paper towel dispensers, is because of what recently happened to me. While at a restaurant, I went to use the facilities and found myself in a small narrow room with only a sink and a toilet. I didn't notice the towel dispenser on the wall between the sink and the toilet, until on my approach to the bowl, my passing shoulder activated it, resulting in a loud grinding sound. I jumped but was afraid to turn around lest I hear laughing and see a drill bit menacingly approach as it twisting through the door. I soon realized what was going on and all was good....that is until I washed my hands and tried to activate the dispersal of a towel. No amount of hand waving would make the box give up its paper prize, and so I had to resort to bobbing back and forth in front of the blessed machine so that my shoulder would activate it. Maybe if they would have had music being piped in?
But, despite my best efforts to eliminate the everyday surprises in my life, with ataxia along for the ride, most of the time the best that I can do is grab a railing with each hand and hang on.
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