Tuesday, 11 March 2014

All Things Considered

A friend took me out to dinner last night, out to The Keg, a part of a national steakhouse chain here in Canada. I love the way they do their Prime Rib, and we had a terrific Argentinian Malbec to go with it. The conversation was fun and interesting. It was her treat and we had a wonderful dinner. I enjoyed myself.

As I got home I started thinking a lot about enjoying myself, how much I could still do even with this disease advancing on me daily. I thought about how much I enjoyed eating, and talking, and getting out into a social setting. My thoughts turned to others with ALS who can no longer eat, who talk through the use of a computerized speaking system, who breath through the used of a machine. I thought about how fortunate I was that I have time yet to do these things, time given to me as a gift, time that I am free to use, free to enjoy.

There are limitations on my life, far more than just the physical, although those in and of themselves are daunting these days. I tire so easily, so quickly. The simple act of rolling my wheelchair from my bedroom to the kitchen, over the soon to be removed carpet, has become tiring of late. Getting up, getting to the bathroom, getting dressed; all these mean I get tired too. On top of that I am beginning to feel, acutely, the financial limitations brought on by the costs of this disease. Then there are the lifestyle limitations, activities taken from me or bounded by wheelchair access.

Yet even with these limitations I have a full and active life. I know plenty of people who would happily trade me places, people who wish they were as full of life and joy as I. I know people who no longer get out, whose limitations have become absolute, their life bounded by the four walls of their existence. I know people who suffer from depression, living their lives on the edge of blackness. Yet here I am, facing one of the harshest diseases known to mankind, and I find love, laughter and life in each day.

I may no longer be able to go out for fancy dinners on my budget, yet I have them here at home with people who appreciate me, and my cooking. I may not be able to fund great weekends in fancy hotels, but I can still have a terrific time in something smaller, more intimate. I may no longer be able to dance, but I can still enjoy the social vibrancy and life with friends. I'd say I am doing pretty well, all things considered.

1 comment:

  1. You have an amazing attitude Rick . I admire your positive emotions through out this awful disease. You are a rock.
    I love you loads.