There are two small dogs who live at my house.
In short, what this means is that during the day, I am the only one at home, and thus am the only one to provide walks and potty breaks for them. This, in turn, means that I wear slip-on shoes all day.
Why? Because I have both inside shoes, and I have outside shoes. The inside shoes are so that I protect my feet when stumbling around the house, and the outside shoes are so that I can walk wherever I need, without the worry of tracking dirt and such into the house. If I didn't wear slip-on shoes, then my day would be completely tied up with the tying of my shoes.
I would be spending six to seven hours each day just on my shoes alone, and two of those hours would be consumed by the rest stops and/or naps that have become necessary for the rebuilding of my strength after successfully conquering one shoe, and before starting on the other foot. Melissa would come home after a long and stressful day at work, ask me how my day was and what I did, and I would respond with, "well, I got my shoes tied", like it was some kind of major accomplishment.
Seriously though, sometimes I wonder if splitting an atom, or bringing together matter and anti-matter would be easier and less time consuming. Alas, the days of the thirty second shoe-tie are a thing of the past and I only wear shoes with laces when I know that I will be wearing them all day.
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| I am pointing off into the distance to indicate that the days of the multiple-shoe-tying sessions have disappeared somewhere over the horizon.... |
I really don't want to brag, but it only took me thirteen years to discover that I can't just jump up out of my seat and rush somewhere when any old thought or mood strikes me. Those days are also long gone, and now I need to stand up slowly, while holding on to something, (something other than myself, because that just wouldn't be of any help), and just stand...frozen until I am confident enough to step forward, being sure that my legs will stand-up in their duty to support me.
Most people would learn this lesson about themselves after one, or maybe two, bad experiences. But I am not like most people. I think that what it was, in all honesty, was that I have been running an experiment over the last thirteen years regarding my instant, on-demand balance. I am now ready to make a formal statement of my finding, which is.... that I don't have instant, on-demand balance. Took thirteen years, but I just wanted to be sure.
Another thing that is no longer an option for me is, well....now that I have voluntarily given up my driver's license, I can no longer be a getaway-car driver. Oh, I suppose I could be, but it wouldn't be legal, and I wouldn't want to be caught fleeing a major crime scene without the proper documentation. Seems to me like a person would never really be able to bounce back, or fully recover from something like that. I mean, that sort of thing could go in my permanent record and could haunt me for the rest of my life.
The only driving that I do these days is on video games.
Notice that I am turning the wheel to the right and the steering wheel on the t.v. is still straight? Yeah...I need to work on my video-driving skills.
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| Nope....not to the left either.....I'll keep working on it, |
About a month ago Melissa decided that I should grow out my beard, and because I am no longer a spring-chicken, my usual red beard is half grey. This is only a problem when I have engaged in the previously mentioned brushing of the teeth. Because of my Ataxia, there is a lack of total control over the toothbrush, and it has subsequently been allowed to wander outside of the mouth, spreading tooth paste evenly around my chin, and cheeks.
When my beard was kept short, this could be easily spotted because there wasn't very much grey, and as such the toothpaste was quickly identified and rinsed away. However, now that a lot of grey has come in, I can never be quite confident as to whether I am walking around with just an old-guy silver beard, or looking like I just really enjoy my toothpaste. The only way that I can know for sure that the grey coloring is my beard, and not paste, is to immerse my head in a sink full of water to completely wash my face, but then I feel like I should put a few apples in the sink so that I could at least do a little bobbing at the same time and make it a fun game for myself.
The days of trying to do anything quietly around the house are, also, all but gone. I don't know when the phrase, "it was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop", was first used in conversation, or who was the one to say it. What I do know for sure though was that they were not talking about me, because if they were the saying would be, "it sounded like a bowling ball that was being violently tossed about in a glass store".
Oh well.....these days I find life to be much easier if I just drop the pretense of even trying to be silent. I am no longer surprised at dropping things four, or twenty times.... I am surprised if I don't. If this happens more than once a day I start looking for the thermometer and seriously think about calling my doctor.
Well, friends, we are moving into the Holiday Season, and from my house to yours, we wish you a blessed time. It is hard for me to believe that 2015 is drawing to a close. Time seems to be moving ever swifter, and as I walk through life with Spinocerebellar Ataxia, I do so with the confidence and assurance that we walk this road together. Cheers, my friends.....take care and stay safe.
