So it’s here. The day when I’ve transitioned into a power-chair has finally arrived. And quite honestly, it hasn’t had the emotional impact I had expected. I actually feel quite good about it, which I did not see coming whatsoever.
Life in General
My new friend in California, a Salvation Army officer, texted me a question a while back. It was “what is your favorite colour?” I said blue not knowing what would come of it. She then proceeded to knit me a shawl and mailed it to me with a card. Though I’ve never had a shawl, I was deeply touched by it and so have decided to rock it:)
So yesterday morning at 8am, Holy Monday, I had the distinct privilege of going to Toronto Western Hospital for my first ever Botox treatment.
That’s right, you heard me; Botox!
MS, Stephen Hawking, crack cocaine, homelessness and other random thoughts. Day 51 of being in hospital
On Thursday this past week I was feeling kinda sorry for myself yet again. According to my 3 hour neuro-psych evaluation my brain in many areas is better than average. Also, when I get my heart rate and blood pressure checked about 400 times per day (give or take) it’s kinda textbook. So my brain and heart are in good shape. But my body sucks. And on Thursday that got to me.
My body took a major hit in January. That’s why I’m here. I’m not dying (well I guess we’re all dying but you know what I mean). If you saw me you may think he’s the same guy that looks like he always did.
But the reality is, I can no longer do things that I could much more easily do just few months back. I’m getting used to yet another new MS normal.
So the whole point of my rehab is to make this new normal as good as possible for not just me but Erinn and Cate too.
I know this is a particularly hard day and that I won’t always be feeling this way. But today I’ve particularly been focused on an awesome gift Erinn gave me for Christmas. She really is a good gift giver. She gave me this bronze sculpture which is called ‘Jesus the healer’.
The other day when I got to work He was gone. I wondered if He had been moved but someone very quickly told me that Jesus had been stolen. This very heavy, fairly substantially sized bronze sculpture, has somehow been stolen.
Doing a funeral on my birthday was powerful in that everything about that service reminded me of the circle of life. We all have a birthday and a death date. It’s important to mark both of those days I think.
I can see why some folks with disabilities become hermit-like. They build/renovate their homes around themselves in order to fit their needs, and when they go outside realize that their needs can’t be met. So they stay home where it’s safe and comfortable.
Thanks for letting me vent last time. Sometimes letting off a little steam is good for the soul…
And thanks also for the words of caution around grace.
I get it.
I’m fairly certain that when Jesus thinks of me He regularly prays ‘Father forgive him for he knows not what he’s doing’.