An extraordinary thing has happened to me in the last month. My walking has improved. It is as if a switch was flipped in my nervous system. My legs are getting the messages I am sending them through my muscles, and they are responding.
This started spontaneously about a month ago. I do not know why. Later, I went on a long trip and a few days into it, they started failing again. But, after I got home and settled in, my walking improved again.
I am so excited. I am able to once again go for walks with my dog. I tend to go out at night. I am not deterred by cold or rain. Fortunately, neither is the dog. I love the outdoor privacy when it is dark and damp. Sheba and I have the world to ourselves.
As for me, I feel so blessed and honored to get to walk freely again. Many people do not know what it is like to lose the ability to freely walk. Others lose the ability and are not so lucky to get it back even if it is intermittent.
I haven’t been able to walk in the woods with my dog since last May. Getting to do that again is better than birthdays, special celebrations, or getting an unexpected refund from some purchase.
When I can’t walk well, I spend most of my time being very mindful. I notice what I pass by. I am moving so slowly there is nothing to do but notice what is around me. I call it “The Smelling the Roses Syndrome.” I have to accept that I can’t move any faster or any better. I focus my energies on just noticing. It includes cars, people, buildings, trees, or anything that stimulates my interest.
I find myself in buildings examining the ceiling. Where do those pipes come from? Why is that beam designed like that? For what purpose? Is this the original wall? This kind of thinking stimulates my sense of myself as an observant person. What could be wrong with that?
It also causes me to observe people more closely. What does his posture say about his thoughts or intention? Hmm, she is standing with her arms crossed. Is she aware of that? Could she be merely cold?
Watching people makes me more aware of my own body language. If I’m moving slowly, I could at least stand straighter. Why are MY arms crossed? Are my hands above the table or below the table? Do I seem impatient? Is it okay to be impatient when I am uncomfortable?
People often hold doors open for me at work. As I am moving slow, I often say, “Oh, that’s okay, it’ll be a week before I get there.”
Many times, people say, “Take your time, I have no where I have to be right now.” They go out of their way to make me feel like I am not imposing. As we have time to watch each other as I get to the door, sometimes there are other incidental comments shared. “It’s okay the evening can start without me.” “Where are you going after work?”
I can respond with, “Ah, it gives you time to check your phone?” Followed by, “Thank you. I hope you have a good evening.” I guess the point of these exchanges is that they cause a certain civility. A moment of connection out of our busy or seemingly busy lives. I appreciate these moments. They make my loss of quickness far more bearable.
But, for now, I can walk even without a cane. I recall when I was a teenager. I would sit on the front steps of my grandparents’ beach house reading or looking out at the beach and the water. All at once, I would launch off the steps, run through the yard, jump off the bulkhead, and run down the beach as fast as I could until I ran out of breath just for the sheer joy of it. I wonder now what my grandparents thought.
I have to find sheer joy other ways now. But, right now, this moment, I can walk. I don’t know why or for how long. I may have theories that may or may not be proven right as more time passes. But, for this moment, for this instant, on this night, I can walk, and I’m grateful.
I say a lot, “Use it while you’ve got it.” I know that life can turn on a dime. I also know it can be a positive turn as well as not. I am looking for the positive as often as I can. It’s there somewhere. I know it.
To Life. L’Chaim.
Joceile
11.23.16
For more stories, go to joceile7.blogspot.com
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