Taking it Slower

I'm so determined to get back home and to serious memoir work that I may be pushing too hard. Or maybe others are pushing me too hard.

Late yesterday afternoon, a new PT showed up. He has elaborate theories about how our lives have become more linear, our ways of moving have become robotic.

He means that as recently as a century ago, in order to get around and do our jobs we had to be able to move laterally, twist and side-step in unconventional ways.

Now everything in the developed world is straight, neat and predictable and we only use certain parts of our bodies to stand, sit, move.

His work routine for me started out easily enough. Just walking back and forth with the walker. Then with the cane. Then without aid of any kind.

As this was out in the open hall, I could sense people gasp as they saw me walking unaided. That turned out to be the easy part.

He then had me walk to the stairs and walk up and down them unaided. Sometimes left foot first, sometimes right. He was assessing my balance, he said.

His theories include that our sense of balance emanates not in our brain but in the core parts of our body we typically ignore. our hips, pelvic, sides, thighs and stomachs. Since we don't exercise these much our balance deteriorates with age.

He criticized body-building techniques like ever-increasing weight-lifting. None of this gets to the main issues that concern him as a PT.

After somewhat unsteadily navigating the stairs several times, I returned to my bed to end the session. I was so physically stretched that I could barely eat dinner before collapsing to sleep.

Mid-evening, I awoke. I ate the sandwich I've recently ordered to fill me up at night. (The theory here is it might help me sleep.) Well, it woke me up and made me restless instead.

As both my roommates were asleep, I tapped into YouTube and listened to hours of country music through ear buds. Aidan recently told me he knows the reason I love country music is the story-telling.

People much more sophisticated than I am eschew country music as simplistic and cliche-ridden. And I agree.

But what are our lives really like? Besides the daily bodily functions that define us as the animals we are, we choose clothes, attend meetings and harbor feelings like unspoken love, resentment, self-loathing and pure unadulterated love.

Another restless night is ended. It's 6 a.m. It is a Tuesday. The nurses are stirring. Today I have a visit with a neurologist to assess whether I have early-stage Parkinson's. Aidan will take me. I'll probably have more OT and PT.

Hopefully I'll keep paying attention and learning these new theories of movement. I already am walking around the room unaided much more often. I'm ready to go home and get to work.

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Nice Outing

Aidan drove me to my doctor's appointment and then we had Mexican food. My first time outside in a long time.

I'm doing well physically but still frail compared to the people on the streets.

Aidan is just weeks away from taking the exams that could yield him his B.A. Lots of studying left; I feel guilty taking him from it.

Tomorrow we go to a neurologist,

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Loss of Control

Most of my adult life, I have struggled to maintain as much control over the contours of my life as possible. I've done as much of the driving, paid as many of the bills, and generally controlled my calendar as has been feasible.

Now I'm much more reliant on others. It makes me feel guilty. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with, let alone mine.

Today was a lesson learned. My memory was I have an appointment with my PCP at 12:15 but I had no confirmation. Then the head nurse came in and said my appointment was at 11.

This panicked me.

After an exchange of calls we confirmed my memory is correct. Whew!

I'm not as much in control as before and I am slowly learning, I  hope, how to cope with that.

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Six-Thirty a.m.


The nurses and staff are stirring, as are those of us patients who can't sleep. From where I lie, in the bed nearest the window, I can't really see what is going on. Two other patients and three levels of curtains block my view.

But I have been here long enough to know what goes on.

As the lights come on, there is a comfort that washes over me.

Before Dawn

Today I have a scheduled doctor appointment that Aidan will take me to. This is routine following each hospital visit.

It's a tiny life detail but I couldn't sleep -- probably because I am excited to see Aidan. I should be able to go home this week.

My appetite is robust; I am enjoying food again.

But I've become a bit of a rebel here, walking around without my walker. The nurses warn me not to do so. But I know my own body best and walking unassisted now builds confidence.

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Brushing Teeth

Toothpaste companies sell their products predicated on saving your teeth, a worthy goal. But I've learned an additional reason As we age it is easy to aspirate bits of food and get walking pneumonia.

That happened to me. So once I get home my goal is to brush regularly and since vigorously with ACT mouthwash, recommended to me by a dental surgeon.

No more pneumonia!

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Coffee and Words

I've reacquired a coffee drinking habit. I've had it in the past, drinking coffee in the morning the writing. It may be a bit of a gross analogy, or a parallel observation, but the words I write while on coffee are ike the urine the coffee produces.

Both flow through me in partnership. Hopefully when they reach others the words invoke feelings, thoughts and even actions.

The urine, of course, is an unwanted byproduct. But the connection between them is undeniable.

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