It was bound to happen. I’ve been banned from wearing boots.
Had a checkup with my general physician today. Everything seems to have stabilized, even me not being stable. I made the mistake of telling her about the loss of my fine motor skills like picking up ink pens from a flat surface an cracked a joke (dumb ass) about wearing boots and the difficulty I had standing in them much less trying to walk.
I’m to wear nothing but flat-soled shows that stick to the ground. I’ll never be able to imitate Clint Eastwood as Blonde.
The frustration is riding high. I walked too much yesterday trying to see my daughter perform. I cannot navigate a stadium on two feet. This Friday night, which is my last opportunity to see the show, I’ll have to do it in my chair.
I’m not sure how that is going to happen. I’ve got an old friend with a kid that was wheel-chair bound. I’m going to reach out to her to see how she navigated the stadium with her daughter.
Man. No cowboy boots. It’s very hard not to be mad at myself.
I have to not be. When I tense, I make my condition worse.
And my legs are on fire and tingling.
Thanks and God Bless,
Jay C. Theriot