A Cow In A Sling

Home came this morning, arriving just as I was getting ready to write. These folks come into my home every Monday, Wednesday and Friday to help me with my shower and to do Range of Motion exercises on my legs. Some of them have been coming long enough that they have seen the losses in my strength. Today was no exception.

For the first time today, I was compelled to use my sling to make the transfer from my wheelchair to my bed. It's not the first time I have used the sling; other times I have needed it when I have been especially weak or when I was having a "bad arm day". Today was different, though. Today I needed the sling in the morning, after a full night of rest. Today I needed the sling even though I am not having any particular issues with my arms. Today I needed the sling as a part of normal life.

It's a new normal for me. My arms have weakened just enough that I no longer have the strength for a full transfer onto my bed. I can still get mostly there; lifting myself just a bit onto the tire of my wheelchair and flopping over for the rest. That ability, however, is waning quickly, already having gone enough that I no longer feel safe doing the transfer. I need the machine to feel safe, to feel like I can make the trip.

If you have ever seen the movie "Lake Placid", there is a scene where the protagonists are dragging a cow across the top of the lake in order to attract the antagonist, a giant alligator. The cow is hanging in a sling, dangling from the chopper. That's kind of how I feel in this process, my sling hanging from the ceiling and me being lifted and dragged across the surface of my bed. I'll have to get used to it; it's the new normal. I am at least grateful that I can do it by myself, for now. At a minimum, I can still live on my own and look after myself, even getting into bed. It's just another machine doing for me that which I used to do for myself.