I had an “OK” week. I had a meeting on Tuesday that I spent a little too long sitting in a chair for.
The die had been cast. I’ve been trying to recover from Tuesday morning all week. Until this evening that is.
My baby’s high school concert was this evening and I wanted to make it there with my two canes. I have been fairly mobile today and I figured I could make it.
It was a horrible assumption.
On the ramp to the assembly hall, my right leg gave out. I powered on. My wife helped me concentrate until we were on a flat surface again. Every step felt like I was taking a red-hot poker and sticking it in my right leg, the length of the major bones. At this point, as I had been experiencing symptoms, I had already taken all my meds.
We left the assembly early. My friend recorded my daughter’s performance for me. I will listen to it tomorrow.
After we settled in, kind of, at home, I told my wife that I didn’t want to go to work tomorrow. It is an odd statement, being that I am disabled and don’t work. But, it is a statement of feeling. It is a statement of acknowledgement that things are so bad that there isn’t a single bird on this earth that could fly me to work.
All I want to do is not move. I can’t because I’m hyper and I like doing things. But, the feeling is one of relief that I don’t have a project that if I miss I will have to spend two hours briefing someone one on the protocols they will have to fix if something breaks.
Reality is: I hope I didn’t tear something in my drugged up state trying to see my daughter perform.