Not Strong Enough

I'm not strong enough. It's become the watchword phrase of my existence these days. Roll over in bed? I'm not strong enough. Wash my head in the shower? I'm not strong enough. Pass the potatoes? I'm not strong enough. Fold the laundry? I'm not strong enough. There once was a time when very little caused me to say that phrase. Now, it's a constant.

There was a time when I was strong enough, even after my legs had failed me. Pick up a grandchild? No problem. Move a box of wine? No problem. Sit up in bed? No problem. Yet all of these and so much more are lost to me now. If I think of life before ALS, it never crossed my mind that there would be a day when even the simplest of things requiring the most basic of strength would be far too much for me.

I think that's one of the toughest things for my children to deal with, that I am not the big, strong Dad they once had. I know it is for me. To concieve of me as weak and failing is something totally foreign to them. It must be even more difficult with me out of sight, here in Calgary. As they say; out of sight, out of mind. Who the hell are "they" anyways?

I get used to it, although with each passing day, with each failing event, it gets increasingly difficult to live like this. Imagine going to bed at night and staying where you are put by someone else. It's not quite that bad, as I can roll onto my side a bit, with the help of the M-rail, but only to one side, which ever is closest to the rail. The long roll to the other side of the bed qualifies as turning over. I'm not strong enough.

Still, my mind is strong. My spirit is taking a beating these days, yet it seems to stand up against the onslaught of ALS. My humour, though darker than ever, remains relatively intact. I can still type. I can still feed myself, mostly. I can still watch TV, roll around in my chair, shop for groceries. Well, mostly. Even some of these things are problematic at times. Yet there is some strength left in me. For some things, I am still strong enough.