The Enforcer

Wow.  2:30 p.m. and I'm just starting this entry--and it's the one for today, not for tomorrow.  Usually if I'm writing FTW at 2:30 it's the one to be posted for tomorrow.

Last night was one of those insomnia-horrible nights.  Finally at 6 a.m., after a night of crying for being so sleepy and so unable to get to sleep I decided to go into the couch, even though I wasn't sure I could get off the couch, but figured it was late enough that if I got paralyzed on the couch, as I have before, it wasn't that long before Walt would be up.

So, Linus-like, I trailed my blanket along behind me so I could cocoon under it and finally sleep, sat on the couch, punched my pillow into a nice soft lump, laid my head on it, and realized there was no way I could lift my legs to the couch.  I tried several things, but they resolutely refused to budge.  I thought of sleeping with just half my body on the couch but realized my muscles would really rebel at that when I woke up, so I got up and went back to the recliner again and, finally, slept for about an hour.

When I woke up, though, I realized I had to finish a review and get it to the paper by noon.  Walt was going to take me to the lab to get my blood test, but I told him I would have to finish the review first.  It was a good review and I had fun writing it, but it was 11:30 before I got it sent off to the paper.

Ned was coming to pick Walt up to take him to his Urology appointment in Vacaville (we are all appointments, all the time around here!) and I had this feeling that the lab at Kaiser in Davis closed over lunch time so thought it was too late to go and I had it in my head that his appointment was at 2 and knew that if we waited until afternoon, he would not be home in time to meet Ned, so I suggested that we either went when he got home from his appointment or go tomorrow morning -- I just have to have a weekly blood test and a day or two late isn't going to make that much difference.

But back to yesterday, Ned, the enforcer, arrived around 10 or 11 or so.  He had been to the senior center where, we heard, you could borrow walkers.  Turns out this is where people take their equipment of old age when they are no longer needed and they have such a surplus that when Ned asked how long he could keep something, they told hi forever.  So I now have two free walkers, one the metal kind that you put tennis balls on and one the kind with a seat on it.

He informed me that he had brought my spa bag and that we would take the walker, go to Atria to visit my mother and to get me a shower.  He said that he would not take me to the side door, but to the front so that I would have to walk the entire hallway because I needed the exercise.

I found out that it was MUCH easier to walk the hall with the wheeled walker and I didn't have to stop at all.  My mother was in her room, sound asleep, flat on her back, which was unusual for her.  She usually sleeps under covers, curled up.  She looked like she was laid out, but she was breathing.  

While she slept, Ned set e up in the bathroom for a shower, and left me to my own devices.  more difficult this time than last time because last time my legs worked.  But the job got done and the aide who came in to empty the garbage was definitely surprised to find me there dressing.  It was good, though, because she was able to help me get my legs in my pants.  I swear, I'm going to move in with my mother any day now!

It was a relatively good day for her, meaning she woke up and was alert and talkative, if making no sense, but she smiled and reacted appropriately and we had a good time with her.

When we got home, Walt's brother was here visiting, but he and Ned left soon because we all hoped to catch Jeri's live streaming concert from Berklee College of Music.  I thought this was her personal concert, which she does with a pianist friend of hers, but it was her musical theater students doing a concert version of Jekyll and Hyde, with Jeri the orchestra conductor

Ever the mom, I sat at my computer hitting "print screen" from time to time when the conductor showed.  I was tickled to get this shot.

As a critic, I was mentally comparing the performances with the full show we had seen here in Davis recently.  The kids did a good job and one can certainly see how much emotion they put into their performances.

So the day ended.  As "night" arrives these days, I hate it, knowing that I have several hours of trying to sleep ahead of me.  Maybe tonight will be better....

In the meantime, The Enforcer is going to make sure that I get my exercises done, that I have the equipment to make life easier, and I hate him for it because I'm, at heart, lazy , but love him for it because if I'm ever going to get over this "whatever it is it will be because Ned is so diligent and so loving.

Embarrassment

This week I embarrassed myself.

I haven't embarrassed myself in public this bad since the time I kicked the zebra keychain.

It was Tuesday, so we had gone to Music Circus, this week for Gypsy, a magnificent production starring three-time Tony nominee Carolee Carmello as Mama Rose.  Don't tell Jim Brochu, but I liked her better than Ethel Merman, for whom the show was written.  Merman had such a sharp edge to her, which Rose needs, but Carmello's heart shone though more, I thought, and she could belt out those familiar tunes with the best of them.

I didn't embarrass myself until intermission.

With this  "whatever it is," it is difficult to stand up.  I have to push up; I can't pull up.  I don't know why, but that's what it is.  We've talked about putting a safety bar in the downstairs bathroom but that won't do any good because I would have to pull myself up on it and that's the least efficient way of getting to my feet.

As I've explained before, it's not that my legs or knees hurt.  In fact they feel perfectly normal, but it's like when my brain sends the signal to stand up, it doesn't reach the knees and they do nothing.  Usually by rocking back and forth 3 or 4 times, the message finally gets through and I can stand up...again, with no pain, just with struggle.

This makes it difficult when sitting in the middle of a row in a theater when half the row wants to go out for a potty or snack break.  I hate making people climb over me because I hate it when I have to climb over people.  Last week, Jeff didn't use his second ticket so there was an empty seat next to e and I could kind of turn my body and make a slightly larger space to squeeze through.

I was feeling good about things this time, though.  I noticed I was walking around the house without a cane more that day and though I still needed help getting into the car, I felt certain I could stand up to let folks pass.

Oh, what a mistake.

Not only could I not stand up, I also couldn't swivel around to let them climb past me that way.  There were six people standing there waiting to get out and I couldn't get up.

I tried and tried and tried and nothing worked.  Walt helped by trying to lift me, Jeff tried to lift me and even people standing in line tried to lift me.
 
What made it worse was that I had worn a lovely pair of black velveteen slacks, which are now a little too big for me, so that the waist band is loose.  The velveteen material acts like Velcro against the cloth theater seat so if I can move my body, the slacks stay where they were, so with all the pushing and trying to stand up, the pants kept slipping down and Walt was trying not only to help me up, but to keep my pants from falling!

They eventually got me standing up and I apologized profusely to the people I had inconvenienced and then while they were all having a good time peeing and eating outside, I walked back and forth the length of the row, with no problem at all.  No pain, no weakness, no nothing.

Back for Act 2 and I spent the act worrying about what would happen at the end of the show. 
Sacramento generally drives me nuts because it seems that EVERY show gets a standing ovation at the end, whether it deserves it or not (England is so much more dignified!).  Whether you liked it or hated it, you have to participate because you can't see what is going on on stage unless you join the standees.  But this works to my advantage because the second the people stand up, I start struggling to my feet and generally by the time the last actors have left the stage, I am standing up.

But for some reason, the way the bows were staged for this show, nobody stood up until Rose took her bow, and then everyone leaped to their feet.  Not only was it not enough time for me to get to my feet, again my legs did. not. work. at. all.

We went through it all again.  Jeff tried pulling me up, I tried pushing up, Walt tried pushing me up while holding my pants from falling off and everyone around me tried to help.  Some little woman in the row behind leaned over and pushed and kept saying "Come on!  I know you can do it!"

I eventually did get up.

The frustrating thing about this is that when I left the theater, I sat on a bench outside waiting for Walt and Jeff to come out and when they did, I stood up just like a normal person.  I hardly even needed to push up at all.  So what the heck happened in the theater seats?

It may have been sitting in one spot for more than an hour with my knees bent, but I had a clue of the problem yesterday when I tried to get up from my desk chair.  I have a chair on wheels and I roll it back against my work table so that it can't move and I push myself up.  Sometimes it takes rocking back and forth 3 or 4 times before the knees engage but generally I have no problem.  But yesterday it was like being at the theater.  I tried everything and the knees resolutely refused to move.

I did finally, with a few tears and bad words, manage to stand upright.  For awhile I thought I'd have to sit there until Walt got home from the store. As soon as I'm upright, I'm absolutely fine.  Shortly after I got up, I needed to look something up on the internet, so I went back in the office and cringed when I had to sit down again, but I noticed before I sat down was that the chair was at its lowest setting, so it was like sitting in a hole and maybe I was trying to push up from too low a position.  It made me wonder if that is the case with the Music Circus seats too.  When I raised the chair to its highest position I was able to push up with no problem whatsoever.

I'm now thinking of trying to find a cushion to bring with me next week and see if that will help me stand up.  I will definitely NOT be wearing the velveteen pants!