Fumbling And Bumbling.....A True Triathlon Story.

here is a link to the audio version, in case you would rather listen to this blog: www.youtube.com/watch?v=9iGlsWCPMFs

I never was one who was into sports in a big way. In any kind of way, actually. Okay, sure, so I played little league baseball, flag football in sixth grade, and grade school basketball for one year. Mostly, though, I played for other reasons than because I found enjoyment in competition. That's all behind me now, and all that I can really do at this point is look back and imagine that, had I liked sports and competition, I would have lived, breathed, and practiced the craft until I became truly proficient. Of course, I can currently only speculate, but the reality is, that if I HAD become some kind of sports phenom, that by this point, I would already be retired and done. I guess that is kind of like saying that if Elvis were alive today, he'd be dead by now. Anyway, it would have been a career that was cut short by the ceaseless ravages of Ataxia. However, all would not be lost, because on the plus side I could then become the famous face of this Neurological disease, and be the spokesman to bring public attention, and awareness, that so many are striving for.

I am, however, in endless competition with myself, and as such, wondered what it would be like to execute simple household chores while being timed. I could then strive to break my own record, while enthusiastic sports commentators would be delivering a blow by blow account of the frenzied action. And when I say, "frenzied action," think half-frozen molasses being poured through a pin hole. So, with that thought in mind, I set my sights on three everyday activities that I engage in. They are:

1. The Beverage Lid Screw-ON....I have mentioned this one before, that I seem to have great difficulty putting screw type lids back on containers without dropping the cap multiple times and becoming very frustrated. This particular competition will encompass the retrieval of the beverage from the refrigerator, the removal of the cap, the successful pouring of the chosen drink into a glass, (I say successful because something usually gets spilled, although I am not convinced this is entirely my fault because the glass always seems to be moving, and dodging about), and finally the re-twisting of the cap. My personal best in this event is just under three minutes, that is if I don't become disqualified for spilling. I will be working hard to beat that score and hold the record in this competition for one. I keep confetti in my pocket so that at anytime I can whoop and holler in unbridled joy because I never know when that moment may arrive. When it does come, I will also have to cup my hands around my mouth, clap, and make sounds like a large crowd of spectators. In the picture below, I am preparing to train for this event.

2.  The PB And J....I enjoy a healthy nutritious lunch which usually involves the regular peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Also, the sandwich is the usual staple of my lunch because I am lazy and it has become a habit that has been carried over from my childhood. Those were the days when I could slap one of these delicious cuisines together it about 15 seconds. I think it takes me twice that long now just to get the two pieces of bread out of their heavily fortified plastic bag. And so, in the coming days I will be training hard, ( at least once a day, roughly between twelve p.m. and twelve-thirty p.m.). Since I am my own competition and do not need to keep my training regime a secret, I will let you have a peek into my training, as seen below:

3. The Mouse Trap....Perhaps the most physically challenging of the Triathlon. This rewarding, but sometimes brutal discipline, can alternate between triumph, or tears. It is definitely not for the weak, and should not be attempted without the proper training or supervision. Lives have been lost. I have been doing this for a number of years now, and it never gets easier, in fact, it is becoming more challenging, and I have included it in the Triathlon Event because it demands dexterity and a high level of concentration. The idea will be to try and set a trap in under two and a half minutes. I think that if I focus than just maybe....... And as long as there are mice that want to come into my house, I will continue. Pay attention mice, the No Vacancy light is on. My training pictures are below:

All the activities that I just mentioned were, in a very simplified way, letting you all know that I have not given up. My encouragement to you is that you would not quit on yourself either. That you would continue to fight and to attempt those things that are in your everyday life that used to be so simple. So many things were taken for granted, and I know, my friends, that it is a struggle. One that can be very disheartening, frustrating, and painful at times. The key I believe is to focus on what you can still do. You can bring support to someone else who might currently be having a tougher time than you. You can bring wisdom and experience to those who have newly received a diagnosis and are scared or confused. You can bring inspiration to many by sharing your stories of triumph, victory, or even times when it didn't go so well. You all have touched me and inspired me in one way or another, and I just want to say, "Thank-you," and encourage you all to keep on keepin on!

Always There.....If You Wait Long Enough.

here is a link to the audio version, in case you would rather listen to this blog: www.youtube.com/watch?v=anhoSkjJNhI

Let me be totally honest,( I say that for my own benefit, because, let's be completely up front, if I weren't, then you would be left without knowing what you could believe). The experience with the Social Security Administration that I recently had on the phone was the perfect end to what has been a two-and-a-half year pleasant journey.  The years were enjoyable, much in the same way that being pushed over a cliff is enjoyable. I swear to you that I must have struck every rock and tree root on the hillside as I pick up speed while hurtling head-over-heels towards the bottom. After picking myself up off the ground, and dusting myself off, I had a few questions, so I made a phone call. What I experienced was pretty close to the same, I imagine, as having a paramedic present at the bottom of the fore-mentioned hill as I came tumbling down. He doesn't so much as rush to my aid, however. Instead, he stares, and continually reminds me, that although my visible lacerations, bruises, and broken bones are important to him, he is very sorry that I am experiencing a long wait time and, he assures me, he will be with me just as soon as possible.

I waited and waited for assistance, but when the wait time became too long, I opted to leave my call back number so that the next available paramedic could tend to my wounds. After an hour, in which I almost bled out, I finally received a callback. Unfortunately, my pure rapture at the immediate thought that the wait was over was short lived. I had been misled into believing that I could simply answer the phone and begin talking to, and have a polite and helpful conversation with a human. Oh no, that would be expecting too much, because what actually happened at this point was very reminiscent of a situation that I have found myself in often when I have gone to see my doctor. I am sure that this is a universal experience, one in which finds me sitting in the main waiting room while dodging numerous air-born virus clouds, flying phlegm, and at the same time, leafing through germ infested old issues of Field and Stream and People magazines. I do this for what feels like at least an hour, but in reality, has really only been fifty-seven minutes and forty-five seconds. Then the moment arrives. The nurse calls out my name. I have never heard anything sweeter. I am having visions in my head and remembering all the times I scoffed and made fun of the overly exuberant people on The Price Is Right. The ones who would shoot out of their seats, begin jumping up and down, screaming, and waving their arms as they ran down the aisle much in the same way as I would imagine a lunatic to do. Because it just so happens that at that exact moment I feel like joining them and becoming one of those lunatics. This, of course, is all done in my head, but one of these days, after an unusually long wait, I am going to do this. When my name is called I will spring straight up, begin waving my hands above my head in a frantic pattern, and alternate between shouting gibberish, laughing and crying.  Because who among us isn't more deserving of witnessing a spectacle or to enjoy a truly good laugh, like your ex-former doctor's office detainees.

I am, at this moment, very excited because the nurse has finally picked me, and I fall in behind her as she leads me towards my important meeting with the Doctor. The first item on her agenda, though? I have to take my shoes off and step on a scale so she can record my weight and height. I can only imagine that this is done in the eventuality that a prize fight breaks out in the office. I mean, if this does happen then they will need to first announce my qualifications and stats over the loud speaker. And so, just like when I received the call back from Social Security, I assumed that my waiting was over and that my next encounter was only moments away. This, of course, was wrong as all that actually happened was that I was shown into the next little waiting room. But I draw your attention back to my present situation.

Finally, upon receiving the return phone call from the Social Security Department, I am greeted by a second automated voice that needs to confirm who I am, if I am currently available, and would I mind waiting while the next available agent is located? I want to scream that, yes, actually I would mind! Why can't you wait to call me until you ACTUALLY have someone first that is ready to talk to me? However, since I had invested so much time already, and as arguing with an automated attendant has not been posted on my agenda for that day, I put the call on speakerphone and began to enjoy the soft rhythms of hold music. Within a few short minutes, I was greeted by a very charming voice, that produced in me an instant flashback to my childhood and my father starting up his old chainsaw. All my questions did eventually get answered, however, and afterward, I had such a feeling of warmth and caring.

Shoot, I just remembered that I didn't ask for the lady's name so that when I call again I can ask for her. Oh well, I guess I can just ask for chainsaw girl.