It was another sleepless night last night. I am finally getting to the place where I plan to talk to the doctors on my next clinic visit. I am not sure what causes this inability to get to sleep. Perhaps it is because I simply slept too much a couple of days ago and I just don't need the sleep. Perhaps it is because I am anxious and worry too much as I head to bed. I just don't know. All I know for sure is that I finally got to sleep at about 3:30 AM last night.
When Rosa came in this morning, she was a few minutes early while I was late getting up; she managed to catch me about half-way through putting on my pants. I asked her to wait for a minute at the door so I could cover up. Once reasonably covered, she came in and closed my bedroom door; I finished putting on my pants. This kind of interruption, this kind of privacy issue, is nothing new to me. I have a disease where modesty and privacy go out the window fairly early.
When I was in the hospital way back when, getting diagnosed, there were all kinds of people who wanted to see my legs sans pants. There were doctors and nurses and orderlies, even volunteers, who got to see what I looked like in my underwear, and less. Friends have had to endure watching me dress and seeing me deal with bathroom issues. Those who have traveled with me have had to put up with me using my jug in the middle of the night.
My dignity is long gone around physical matters. I know this will get worse. I will need help getting dressed soon, putting on clothes, fighting with compression socks, fighting my feet into shoes. Those people will want me to wear loose clothing, pants that slide on easily and shirts that are loose for simplicity. My wardrobe will be defined by others, those seeking to make their work easier. I will soon be dressed like a slob on a permanent basis; sweatshirts, sweatpants, oversized shoes, and probably, in the end, one giant bib so I don't mess up my clothing. I saw that guy in the mall last year and didn't like what I saw.
I hope that those who help me understand that this is important to me. I don't have to look like a fashion plate. Nobody could ever accuse me of having high end clothing. My jeans come from Costco, my shirts mostly from Walmart or Mark's. I dress simply, but in clothing that fits. I want it to stay that way. I want to retain at least some semblance of dignity.
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