63. Everything is *completely* under control.

PT37's Box of Fun & a Gait Belot

PT37’s Box of Fun & a Gait Belt

PT37 helped me practice walking with a narrower stance on Tuesday.  She pointed out some lines in the floor and said I was to keep my feet on/within them.  At first I was just standing there so I drew my feet closer together to get a good starting position.  As soon as I put my feet in the lines, though, I started to tip backwards. I did not realize this until I saw PT37 start forward to catch me.   I chalk it up to my subpar reaction time as recorded by OT6 when she administered the driving test (with the faux pedals).  “Subpar” might be a generous interpretation of that first test.  Anyway, when I did not end up on the floor I told PT37, “Just kidding – everything is completely under control.”

A similar scene occurred with PT6 a little over a year ago.  It must have been earlier in the season since we were outside practicing with a quad cane.  I think it was my first time outside with a quad cane and I was concentrating really hard.  “Don’t worry,” I said to myself, forgetting I was speaking audibly, “Everything is completely under control.”  I remembered I was talking out loud when I heard PT6 laughing.  Oh, good, he said – because I’ve got some paperwork to do inside.  Come and get me when you’ve done 5 laps around the hospital.

I demurred and said something about how all this went much better when he was around, so we made our way to the front entrance and I think I remembered not to talk to myself anymore.  I used to talk to myself quite a lot in ST.  One day ST3 was like, Excuse me?  “Sorry,” I said, “It’s just the self-talk.”  I also told her that things went better when she was around, too.  She would help me over the rough spots in a puzzle and I thought her assistance was infinitely superior to me struggling over one of my homework brainteasers.   (“How was your homework?”  “I had to eat a lot of cookies, but I did it.”)

Everything being under control is a good reminder for me.  Tuesday was one of the harder days.  It started blue, with me crying as I came down the steps.  It wasn’t the sort of crying where Mommy threatened to get Ed to talk some sense into me (Toughen up!) – it was the kind where she got me off the staircase as soon as possible and just gave me a hug.  The rest of the day was similar because, frankly, I’m tired.  Of all of this.  But it’s not my job to decide the timing of when this is going to be over.

It appears that we’ve settled in for the long haul and this is not an episode I’ll look back on next year with (un)fond memories – it’s simply my new life…

… My alarm clock just came on so I took a break (it’s good for me to break often from computer work) and did the Theraband “clams” PT30 gave me with Ruby, the red Theraband PT6 sent home with me so I could do those ankle strengthening exercises (I did those, too).  It is my fond hope that they will eventually get me confident enough in that joint so that I won’t have to wear my aircast.  PT37 is already talking about weaning me off of the brace.  Before my leg started going crazy this summer I played it real loosy – goosie with the brace and experimented with lots of cute flats, but right now I’m in sneakerland (since my sneaks are the ones that fit the aircast).

Incidentally,  when I refer to my sneakers I’m talking about the grey Pumas since Mommy confiscated my Nikes because they had an obvious hole in the right toe.  Tanpo was not a fan of them either.  A month before I got sick I was going to the airport and he said, “You’re wearing those dirty shoes to Africa?”  They weren’t dirty.  They were just well used and very comfortable.  After I started wearing shoes (and not those grippy socks) to therapy, PT2 and PT3 had to take my left insole out and stuff my AFO (a rigid sort of brace) inside.  I was determined to run in those shoes, but the hole got to be to grievous for Mommy, and the other toe was wearing a little thin, too.  So after I graduated from The Place I consented to buy another pair of sneakers.

This revision (or demolition and rebuilding) in goals is one of the things that weigh heavily on me.  As I told my neurologist last week, I thought I knew what my adulthood was going to look like but it turns out I was completely wrong.  But as I told a friend yesterday, I thought I knew what I wanted, but God’s made it clear that He’s not going to give me those things.  This is okay, though since I’m confident He’s going to give me not what I thought I wanted, but what I was made for.  So waiting like this is hard sometimes, but everything’s under control.

Psalm 34 “…4. I sought the Lord and He heard me | And delivered me from all my fears.  5.  They looked to Him and were radiant, | And their faces were not ashamed…18. The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart…”