Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Just Walk

The other day I was talking to someone about how difficult it is to do things, and how I spend the better part of my day in bed. Their response was to do things. The implication was that things were hard to do because I wasn't doing them.

A part of me was a bit annoyed. But I tried to stay calm, and explain how there is a difference between what they thought, and what actually was.

If I genuinely find it difficult to stand, to move, to walk, it is not because my muscles aren't being used. And I know this because there are times that are nothing like those other disabling moments. 

There are times I move much more easily than others. Those times I may not be as strong as I like, or have the stamina I'd like, but there is a pronounced difference from the other times. These types of times, it might benefit me to get moving, and often I do try to. Unfortunately, though, these kinds of days are few and far between - especially these last few months. 

The other times it wouldn't matter how "strong" my body was, I'd still be weak. Chemo affects things, and the things people think they know aren't what they think.

At some point, the doc wanted to give me some pills for "energy." I asked if it would help with the weakness I felt. Her answer? She didn't know.

I am not keen on the medicine to begin with, but if it gave me energy, and I still was extraordinarily weak, that would be torture. I have yet to try the medicine. The fact is, I really don't want to. Medicine and me are not really the best of buds.

Maybe I will change my mind at some point. But I haven't reached "that" point yet.

I share this, as usual, for perspective. If someone who is close to me can be that far off base, then anyone can be. Perhaps you know someone going through something you have no clue about. 

The worst thing you could do is act like you know something you don't. You are not going to help that person, and you might just piss them off.

One of the things I have really come to hate is having to explain my limitations. Even worse, many times the explanations are because I need to "defend" why something is as it is. As a result, it reminds me of things I would rather not be reminded of. I wind up defending and supporting things I would rather not.

So why do I do it? Part of me wants people to understand. Part of me feels misunderstood.

I do it here and now as a way of trying to deal with how I feel about it, as a way of trying to let it go. Maybe a part of me just wishes and hopes that somehow, magically people who read my words will "get it," and then it gets to those who don't read my words through osmosis. And then it would cease to be an issue.

I know. Magical thinking. I'd be better off trying to find a better way to cope with it. I just don't know what that is. 

I thought about staying silent, but I don't think that will help anyone. Had I stayed silent, my friend would wonder why I continued to spend so much time in bed, and why I wasn't doing something so obvious to help myself. 

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