Starting the Diary

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

This morning the idea came to me to make a place to record how I am feeling. At first I thought of using pen and paper, but that seemed impractical because I have had some very nice pens that I can no longer find. Paper never seems to be . . . well, too much extra to hold onto at a time when I am trying to simplify things.

Last night, in a dream, I relived a conversation with a friend named Floyd about a common friend named Paul. Paul is partially blind and recently was hit by a car when Paul walked a little further out in the street than he should have been. Paul often does not carry his red-tipped white cane. He thinks he can usually see well enough directly in front of him, so there is no need to 'tap' his way at times. Floyd said "If the driver saw a man with a cane, he might have given you more room. The cane may not be needed but others might need the little flag it represents to the rest of the world."

I told Donna this morning about that. She said our friend Sarah, who is also partially-sighted, usually carries a cane for that very reason. It helps others to notice her.

Sunday, as I walked out of the first service at church, I soon became a bit of a nervous wreck with sudden stop and start among all the people, each going their own several ways. I actually followed an old person for a while, as if I were in the wake of a boat going through water. By the time I traversed the entrance I was ready for a rest and found a chair to park in and calm down. I don't like the idea of falling. I never was good at tumbling in school P.E. so feeling wobbly and having to stop abruptly so often felt like I was on the verge of being out of balance, out of control, often in the previous few minutes.

Monday seemed fairly good in my memory, but my memory is rather sketchy in recent days, and Tuesday held a problem like Sunday, and unlike all that I recall of Monday. Tuesday started okay. I actually climbed stairs with energy and ease for a meeting that morning. I only started to get winded on the last flight of stairs some three floors up. I felt a good deal less steady the half-hour later, so I took the elevator down.

Later in the morning I felt the urge to visit 'the little room down the hall' and I walked down the middle of the comfortably broad hallway, as I often do in order to avoid traffic as people sometimes hurriedly leave their offices or cubicles. That very thing happened as one happy and hyper coworker swiftly left her work place on a similar mission in the other direction. The restrooms are on the other side of the floor but I like going clockwise around the work spaces in the middle and others like going counterclockwise. So while I zigged to the destination, Edith zagged and we met in the middle.

Did I mention that I don't like the idea of falling? Well, when I stop abruptly the sense of continuing in motion doesn't always stop with me. The good Dr. Brittany recently asked me about the "stressors" in my life and that is one of them. Sometimes I can see I am standing still but I don't feel like I am still. Fortunately, in this instance Tuesday, there was a chair just a step away and I used it. This near-miss was not exactly an auto accident but it made me as unsettled as the day I snapped awake at a traffic light, thought I had the green turn arrow, and drove into the intersection. It seems that an on-coming car, which did indeed have the green light, missed me but it was obvious that the driver was on the edge of his control that kept him from veering into the corner gas station as he evaded me. I stopped and looked around, discovering that I obviously did NOT have a green light. I was that kind of 'shook up' over an otherwise 'laugh and go on' non-moment with Edith.

Back to today, Wednesday, I did remember to bring my cane, although I twice forgot where I put it after getting it out of the closet this morning. It did help, both in the anticipated flag that encouraged people to give me a tad more space when I left chapel, and a forgotten feeling of extra support when I leaned against the wall awaiting an elevator. The cane was suggested weeks ago by my boss. I was picturing that it would be yet another thing to keep track of when I felt like falling over, although the thought that I could use it to help myself up off the floor that kept it in mind. Fortunately, I have only fallen about three or four times since this began a year or so ago--not counting the times I tried to stand up and fell back onto the bed or chair. Dr. Jennifer said that those kinds of falls don't count. Then too, neither does the one when I was lunging to someone's rescue in a dream and found myself on the floor beside my bed. Strange, I laughed at that, but couldn't Tuesday.

I suppose, as Dr. Brittany asked, but I don't recall spending much time allowing for an answer (or was that yet another gap in my memory?), this unfamiliar business of not 'being all there' is a tad stressful. I don't try to let on because I am not in pain or otherwise suffering, so it seems inappropriate to get the extra consideration. On the other hand, that is what I advertised when using my cane. I feel so increasingly worthless, but the social concession of a little more room is sufficient attention. I may feel weak but I don't want to appear weak, which may be why I haven't used the cane up until now. Still, with the cane I feel a bit more sturdy, so that is a fair trade off.