Thursday, 16 July 2015

Home Alone 2

Home alone. In my case it's not a comedy. It's a relearning of my life. I have to figure out my routines, get my days in order, understand once again how to go onward with my not nearly normal life. If you asked me what kind of move my life would be, it would be one of those horror movies, where the villain, played happily by ALS, kills everyone slowly and, in the end, wins. Or it would be a tragedy, where the hero, played unhappily by myself, loses everything and then dies.

I came home yesterday, to my empty apartment, having dropped Katherine off first at her place. My apartment was hot, a common event in the summers, and even winters, here in Alberta. It's position in the building and exposure to the sun means it is almost always hot, even on the coolest of days. I turned the heat off when I moved in and I have never turned it on again, even in the dead cold of a nasty Calgary winter. Having had the windows closed for weeks on end, stifling is the best word to describe what I walked into.

Kate came to visit. We spent a wonderful evening together. I had the fans running and the windows open, so things began to cool down. We talked about the trip, about family, about her life. We talked about my situation, what I was going to do or not do, what my plans were about money for things like TV, the Internet, electricity, oh, and of course, food.

Then we went shopping. The trip to the mall was uneventful; we even used the repaired elevator. To look at it, you would think nothing had changed except the button panel. You would be wrong; lots has change but you can't see it.

The same is true with me; lots has changed but you can't see it, at least not right away. It became evident, however, when I tried to transfer from my manual wheelchair to my power wheelchair, to go shopping. It was then that I discovered that I can no longer make that transfer as I used to. I am no longer strong enough to lift myself up to the seat of the PWC. We used the transfer board, and that almost turned to disaster as I began to slide down the board instead of up. It would appear I lack the strength to do that too. Kate caught me and helped, so I made it eventually.

Transfers. That, along with several other home tasks, is something I am going to have to relearn, now that I am Home Alone.


  1. You need a powerchair with a seat elevator. I know you probably are sick of elevators, but it helps in transferring. You can ensure the transfer is always level or even downhill.

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