What Happens When?

I went shopping yesterday. I wanted some fruit, and another carton of milk. I also wanted to go up to Canadian Tire, ostensibly to purchase a watering can, but really just because I like going to Canadian Tire. Fortunately I didn't buy a watering can; I don't really need one. Nor did I buy any of the other fun stuff I was looking at.

My purchasing problems began at Safeway, not in terms of expenditure but in terms of ability. I discovered yesterday that I can no long pick up a mini-watermelon, nor can I lift up my shopping bag with a watermelon and cantaloupe in it. Even the 2 litre carton of milk is getting heavier for me these days. Perhaps becoming poor again in a few months will help with the situation; I'll no longer have the money for expensive fruits and vegetables. Instead, I will be on the path to becoming the vegetable.

Losing the strength in my arms is leading me to other concerns. For example, never mind not being able to pick up a glass of beer, what happens when I can't pick up my urine jug? At that point I will have to be permanently catheterised. I get a lot of help getting myself dressed these days. What will happen when I cannot get undressed by myself? It will mean having home care come in and put me to bed at night, another loss of independence and lifestyle. I won't be able to stay up late, bingeing on Netflix and wine. Perhaps this is a good thing, perhaps not.

Even my coffee cup is feeling heavy these days, tugging at my arm muscles as I pick it up for a sip between paragraphs or sentences. I can feel the pain of overwork in my upper arms, both left and right. I can no longer pick up my toolbox without some sort of help and it is almost impossible for me to put my drill kit up into the cupboard. Someone has to do these things for me now.

Losing my legs was easy compared to losing my arms. Losing my legs meant going into a wheelchair, changing my way of getting around, giving up some of my leisure activities. Losing my arm strength means giving up everything. There is no replacement, no wheelchair for the arms. This disease is getting very real right now, very potent in its impact. I suspect that my daughter is correct; once my arms are gone, I will go very quickly after that.