for your limitations,
and sure enough,
That quote is from "Illusions. The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah" by Richard Bach.
Maybe I still fall back into denial. After all this time I still have trouble with acceptance. I am willfull. I am stubborn. I am proud, independent and damn it to hell...I have a progressive disease that causes disability.
I don't want to limit myself. I don't want to give up. "Fake it till you make it"rings in my head.
But I do curtail some of my desired actions knowing my "limitations". For instance I stopped going to the farmers market two weeks ago because of the outrageous influx of the snow bird population. I "walked" shoulder to shoulder through the throngs of untanned people wearing socks with their sandals. I found myself stumbling through the marsh of people with my cane in my left hand, my purse strap over my shoulder and my Eco shopping bags in my right hand being tripped by people coming up faster behind me with their right foot between my left and my cane.
Can I go downtown to the market? Sure I can... But, is it a good idea?
We have been having wonderful weather and I love my flowers and my garden. I love playing in the dirt. I love being outdoors on beautiful days. (hell hasn't broken lose yet. The temps are divine) On my way to the grocery store I stopped at the garden center of the local mega hardware store for much needed mulch. (have you already figured the ending of this story?)
Surely this superstore has a stock boy to run these bags out to my trunk. After I was handed my receipt for what I would soon learn to be tons of mulch and a few new posies I couldn't resist, the lady in the orange vest told me no one was available to help me. I was to help myself. OhhhhhhhhKayyyyyy.....
Should I have protested? Gotten angry? Played the wimp card? (lady with sad eyes, pout and cane)
I did neither...I took my shopping cart to the outside area with piles-o-mulch bags, picked them up and loaded them two at a time in my cart, pushed them to my car, loaded them in my trunk, and repeated the process. Precarious as it was, I did not fall or lose my balance.
Proud of myself, I drove home and unloaded the bags to a new pile in my yard.
That should have been the end of my mulch tale, but NO...I had to get back outside and play. I weeded, planted and mulched, and was thoroughly enjoying every moment of it and the sense of accomplishment.
Sure enough, almost three hours later, my zen of gardening alpha state was rudely interrupted by a harsh reality. I was on my knees and could not get up.
" Brain to legs, brain to legs....come in legs. Are you there?"
"Brain? Is that you? You're breaking up. We've lost power!"
"Brain to arms, do you read me? DO-YOU-READ-ME?"
"nahhhh...I don't think so"
I did eventually get up, but not without wondering what I was going to do if I couldn't. I made it inside and to the top of my bed where my hubby found me when he came home. A half dose of tizanadine kept me there, dazed and spasm free till evening. Hubby left for work this morning and I was admonished in the voice of Seinfeld's soup-nazi. "NO GARDENING FOR YOU!"
I felt good, willing and able to perform the task I chose. I enjoyed doing it.
Can I work in the yard? Sure. Should I? Of course I should. Should I limit myself before my body protests?
Will I ever learn? ( I don't think I want to)