I'm Afraid

I'm afraid. Or at least I was until Katherine walked in. Now, not so much.

Last night, after spending the afternoon and dinner with my daughter, Kate, I did some work on scheduling for the next few weeks, and then set up my donations page for Betty's Run. It actually took me quite a while, as I also emailed a bunch of people and posted to Facebook about Betty's Run. After I was done, I decided I would have a Rum and Coke, or perhaps two, and watch some Netflix.

I gathered up my supplies, including the required jug. I also got out some chips and a mug of water. One must be prepared. I transferred out of my wheelchair and onto my couch, a difficult enough transfer but one which I can still do. Once there, I settled in for what I thought might be a couple of hours of watching TV and enjoying a beverage.

Eventually, after watching for longer than planned, something I almost always do so perhaps I should just plan for longer, I started to get sleepy. However something happened to me. My willingness to make the difficult transfer from couch to wheelchair simply wasn't there. It was as if I had given up, seeing the move to the wheelchair as not worth it. I just didn't want to do it.

So I slept on the couch. All night. Until 11:45 this morning.

What worries me, what makes me afraid, is that even then, even when I awoke this morning, I didn't want to make the move, to put out the effort, to get off the couch and into my wheelchair. I am afraid that I might be giving up, just a bit at a time. I am afraid that I am at that point where I willingly give things to this disease rather than forcing it to take them from me. I am afraid I am losing my strength of spirit, along with the strength in my body.

When Katherine came in the front door this morning, my mood and energy level changed almost immediately. In the wisdom that is hers, she did not demand that I get up, but instead asked me how I felt. She did not insist I sit up, but instead fed me a few pieces of the thinly sliced beef she makes. She did not force me to rise, but instead offered me her hand to help pull me up, and then helped me transfer to my wheelchair.

She knows it is getting more difficult. I know it is getting more difficult. Without her walking in my front door today, I would likely still be on the couch. That's why I am afraid.