I fell down the stairs the other day. It was only a couple stairs, at the bottom of the staircase. It was a slow fall, and I knew it was happening. I never felt like I was in danger of injury from that fall.
But still, I fell. And I couldn’t stop myself. It was scary, because in that moment I had no control over whether I would stop falling.
I tripped and fell again a few days later. I was stepping over something. First, I stepped over with the leg that doesn’t work like it should any more. No problem. Then the other leg followed. But since I wasn’t concentrating enough, that toe caught on the obstacle.
Two years ago, I wouldn’t have fallen either time. When I slipped on the stairs, I would have just landed on the next step down and regained my balance. A few days later, I would have just hopped on the one leg when the other toe got caught.
But the muscles don’t work right any more. Actually, that’s not quite right. It feels more like the electricity doesn’t work right any more - like there’s a short in my neurological system, and the signal isn’t getting to where it ought to be quickly enough.
A few people have asked if I’m fully recovered from my injury. My common response is that I’ll never be fully recovered - that this injury will be affecting me for the rest of my life. Those words have been coming out of my mouth, but I keep on not believing them. Somewhere in my own being, I seem to expect that I’ll keep on getting better, and that one day I’ll be fully recovered.
And then I fall down the stairs. Or I trip on the ground. Or I have use my hand to lift my leg into the car. Or I fall down while I’m putting my pants on. Or I trip and fall going up the stairs (which isn’t as potentially catastrophic as falling down the stairs).
So, here’s my conundrum. I could accept my current physical capabilities as they are - and admittedly, I’m much more physically capable than I might have been after the injury I experienced. Or instead, I could keep trying to increase my recovery. But that means I’ll have to keep on trying to push my current limits and risk falling down the stairs again.
I'm in a similar boat, but for rather different reasons. (The docs/nurses asked about falls every day for roughly four months, but mine would have been the result of a silly amount of pain killers.)
ReplyDeleteI continue to have discussions around "normal," whatever that's supposed to look like. The continual presence of a water bottle for daily activities, means long bike rides require more fluids than I used to carry. The mileage is starting to come back, but it'll never be what it was before the diagnoses and treatment.
I suspect what you and I are looking at, also runs along the lines of what our country is trying to figure out: What's that new normal going to look like? Eating in restaurants? Live music in packed arenas? Attending schools and religious activities the way we used to? I think we'd have a better chance at it, if the entire country were on the same page regarding masks and vaccines.
At least you and I get to choose how much work we put into moving forward.
Keep at it. In most everything we do, an occasional fall or step back means we're trying to move beyond our current skill level.
Two steps forward. One step back.
ReplyDeleteFor some, it’s too much.
For others, it’s the cha-cha.
This isn’t the dance you asked for,
Yet the rhythm is now within you,
It’s the beat of the drum to which you now move -
The beat -
Unbidden and not yours by choice
But yours by circumstance.
Yes. Your body cannot do as it once did.
Yes. The frustrations are real.
But so is the dance.
Dance like no one’s watching.
Or dance in the streets.
But dance.
I relate to this on a gut level. I struggle with the same conundrum. I don’t know the right answer but I know as each year passes the decision will be more and more difficult as my aging conspires with my injury to betrays my once nimblish body. Wishing you peace, old friend.
ReplyDelete