Hey, look what I did – I got the mail all by myself last week!! This has been the work of about a month. I started asking Mommy around Ed’s birthday if I could practice my walking alone outside bc it’s nice out now. I have been asking for 3+ years, and I thought the 4th year might do the trick. Answer: no. But I did get to walk a bit that afternoon bc Daddy was fixing the garage door so technically someone was outside with me. It was soooo funny – every three minutes I saw him peeking around the bushes to verify my location and that I had not passed out. But last week I just announced, I’m going to go get the mail, and no one stopped me! It helped that Mommy was busy preparing dinner. This is the upside of using Leo less bc my arm has been hurting so much: My gait is more confident.
That said, this happened a few days before:
To: Coach R
Re: I’m making the reception desk nervous.
This morning’s funny: I just walked into [the big Med facility] w Mommy for her checkup. I went straight to the waiting room. Mommy just sat down and told me the receptionist saw me walk by and was extremely concerned and wanted to call a wheelchair. Sheesh. I thought I looked pretty good today, too. Ps this happens routinely.
It really does happen routinely. I forget what I look like but it’s quite shocking to strangers when they see me approaching. E.g. when Ruthie and Ernie had Peter, their youngest, we went to the hospital and we got dropped off at the entry. I didn’t bother bringing my cane and when the front desk saw me walk in, clinging to the non-sliding part of the door, they were a little appalled and couldn’t get me into a wheelchair fast enough. I wanted to ride in a chair since I knew the interior walk to Ruthie’s room was long, but it was a really wide one and wide ones aren’t as fun bc your arms won’t comfortably reach the rims to make the wheels go where you want them to. Daddy pushed me. Thanks, Tanpo!!
Meanwhile, last time I was online I told you how Trainer D kicked me out of the gym. I didn’t sign up for this, I told Coach R during Stretchy Time. This is me being grateful, I deadpanned, pointing to my face – which was contorted into an expression I fondly hoped conveyed appreciation.
“I can see that,” he said wryly.
Honestly, I didn’t even want to tell Coach R about it but I felt like it fell under the category of Safety Issues I’m supposed to be disclosing. Still, it was a real struggle for me to come to the point. We had to play a couple rounds of the Movie Line Recognition Game before I felt okay enough to dive in.
You’re killing me, Smalls, you’re killing me – The Sandlot
Well, it was all for naught. After a two-week break, Trainer D told me (after I pressed him) that he wasn’t serious about cutting me off. (!!!) ARGH. I was incredibly frustrated with him but so relieved, too, that I promised not to be mean(er) to him (than usual). He was serious about the cyclical physical deterioration but he’s just going to adjust accordingly. Side note: he missed my shenanigans while I was traveling. I’m all, Shenanigans? I know not of what you speak.
I’m just saying that he dragged that conversation out for a super long time – there was all this stuff about the level of cardio I was allowed to do on break, self awareness and reporting of pain, nausea, etc., a lot of blah blah blah – I was quite shocked because in my world we do not joke about getting kicked out of Rehab/The Gym. I mean, I thought he was completely serious – he went all into his theories of periodization and the teaching of some guy I can’t remember the name of…Junda. Yeah, that’s it, Junda. Okay, I don’t really know. So I went home and made this list in my One Note App (Team Tanimal members have pages where I keep the questions I need to ask them):
I further consoled myself by firing this email off to Smurfette:
Also, did that man tell you he threw me out of the gym 2 Fridays ago? Bc he had been secretly/nerdily calculating the next occurrence of a physical downturn and he had the gratification of seeing his theory confirmed. I had barely gotten the sentence out of my mouth about having trouble eating and he sailed in, smugly triumphant, with how he’d seen this coming, etc. So now he is refusing to train me every 6 weeks. Mm hmm. I was so distressed I forgot to have the “protocol” conversation I’m supposed to have bc I almost fell on Coach R (flashback during a walking lunge exercise) and I almost threw up on him the week before (just because of stress)…
Smurfette is such a crack up, she read this portion of my email aloud to Trainer D for his amusement – because apparently when I’m trying to be scathingly mean I’m utterly hilarious. PS. I forgot to have that other conversation with him but I solved the problem by email bombing him like this:
Dear Trainer D, I’m experiencing a higher level of stress that manifests itself physically. There are 3 possibilities:
Please plan accordingly. Consider yourself officially informed.
I talked to Coach R “live.” It’s a good thing I did my duty (the assignment was to make sure protocol was locked in and ready to go in case anything happens), I told him a few days later, because I was RIGHT – I totally DID get asked if I did my homework. Booo…All this talking about feelings is awful. But I’m told it’s part of healthy healing.
So that’s what’s been going on in my world. Business as usual, except I’ve been working on a special project while I’ve been on break. All the PTSD flashbacks started happening so fast and so often, and I’m remembering all this stuff I didn’t want to remember so one night I got fed up, and was like, FINE. I’m gonna put this to music. It’s a special video I made to thank my medical peeps and I think you’ll enjoy it, too. It has been very well received by my Focus Groups and I’ll share it on Wednesday. Adieu!