Goodness, it has been awhile since I've posted here. I haven't been in the mood to tackle the big task of documenting my two weeks in Korea and Thailand but I will...soon.
Meanwhile, I figured I better come back with a new illustration. This is my first scenic illustration. I kind of used a combination of textures and patterns for time and efficiency's sake. I think it explains my current situation of feeling weak post trip, but really my general feeling of wanting something that is slowly and assuredly slipping away.
As I look at my depleting body all I sincerely want is for it to come back and no amount of acceptance or optimism could ever erase the evanescent fluttering and sincere feeling of wanting something back.
Above are a couple pictures from my trip. In Korea I visited the orphanages I lived in up until the age of four. I even had the opportunity to meet my foster mom, a woman who despite fostering children for almost 40 years, vividly remembered me.
Thailand was simply wonderful and beautiful. In these pictures, and the numerous pictures that I will post later, I look well and you can't visually tell anything is "wrong". It all looks effortless, but my body felt terrible most of the trip and with every year that passes traveling becomes harder.
No position; standing, sitting, laying down, is ever comfortable, but these issues have to be overlooked when there is life to live and I feel the efforts are worth it.
The biggest post trip update I have is that I've been trying to get my body back into the routine of walking. After a week of being home from my trip I knew I had to return to habitually walking those 62 steps to my car.
The 62 steps that I dread everyday. I'm definitely struggling right now. I want to be able to do it, but my body does not. Whether I 'want to' or 'not', and it is 'not' these days, I have to keep walking daily.
My body has my constant attention and it is the things that seem so minuscule that are so very epic to me and my daily life.
Since coming back from my trip I have been trying to get my body back to a walking state. In Korea and Thailand I used a wheelchair for the entire trip and did very little walking. My body adjusted to me not using my legs and I have been fighting physically and emotionally just to get them back to where they were before the trip.
All I want is for it to please, please come back.
Last week I texted Jason, my husband, and shouted, "I walked to my car all by myself!"
On this particular day I managed to stumble to my car without help. It is frustrating that these little accomplishments can consume so much of my day but nevertheless you have to take your victories where you can, however small or large. Small or large is perception anyways. Increments of measurement have a different meaning to me and the small is the big.
That was the only time I made it to my car and the rest of these weeks have been a series of interactions with strangers and neighbors and requesting their help in my effort to continue to walk outside of my house and to my car.
September 22, 2010 I return from my drive and there is no one around and so I wait on the sidewalk for any passing person. An older lady with salt and pepper hair carrying 2 bags of groceries and wearing a purple corduroy jacket was walking towards me. I asked the stranger those words that are no stranger to me, "Can you help me?"
Her initial reply was through her face, a look of confusion and why? As I explain and point to my cane, her aha moment turned into a smile and her lending arm got into position.
I grabbed onto her shoulder and for those 30 steps we talked and introduced ourselves. My hand rested on her faded purple corduroy feeling the warmth and softness of her jacket. "This jacket has seen some years" I thought.
By now sy steps are a 1/3 of my usual steps and my legs feel like they are ready to collapse. They feel like twigs and my body, a house.
I arrive at the gate, say my thank you and good-byes and do my best to stumble back into the house.
September 23, 2010 I arrive home and my legs are so weak I know I shouldn't dare try and walk those 62 steps alone. Again, I wait near my car for any passerby. I see two men walking towards me engaged in a conversation. I wonder if I should ask them, but decide not to. I figure I should try to do it by myself and I walk a few steps away from my car. This was a mistake for now I have nothing to hold onto, and now I am just some weird person standing in the middle of the sidewalk.
I try to will my feet to take a step, but my body is too afraid to move and so I stood there frozen for 15 minutes looking for anyone to pass by…My legs might as well been roots in the pavement. They wouldn't.
Waiting…waiting…my legs couldn't stand anymore.
The two men that walked by earlier return and this time I ask them for help, "Of course. We didn't realized you needed help. You just looked so cool standing on the sidewalk like nothing was wrong."
As they helped me and watched me walk I could tell their thoughts were in confusion. How could one single step be so hard? How can someone so young have this much difficulty? While they were trying to wrap their brains around it we talked and got to know each other. As they left I could hear them murmur, "I can't believe it."
Last Tuesday I asked my neighbor and new friend, Caro, to come down and walk with me. I dragged my body out of the house and I could just feel my right leg wanting to collapse beneath me.
As I did my steps I held onto the house and each step became smaller than the previous. Does not matter how many times I have trouble walking, the sheer and utter weakness always falls upon me with disbelief.
The weakness is extreme and more than usual. By the time I had arrived at the gate my neighbor came down from upstairs to meet me.
She is cheerful and bouncy and the sight of her can usually make me smile, but not this day. She asked if I was ok and I turned to her, while trying to desperately hold my body up, with my eyes welling up with tears. "What's wrong, buddy?" (that's what she calls me). Her face looks concerned and worried. I grab her extended arm and start walking down the sidewalk and every step is followed by streams of tears.
Our 30 something steps to my car are in silence and my face, that is covered in tears, is hung low. We arrive at my car and I turn to her, grab her and sob into her shoulder.
"I just want it back", I sobbed
"Or as least keep what I have. I don't know what I am going to do…
I don't think I can handle this getting worse".
It doesn't matter how much time has passed since the beginning of my condition, I still have a hard time believing it. I go through adapting emotionally and physically just in time to do it all over again for the next stage of progression. Currently, I am stuck in the middle between walking and not and lately I feel like I'd rather not anymore. I'm tired and ready to give up and I just don't want to do it anymore. After having 2 weeks of wheels, and knowing how much easier it could be, I'd rather retire this old tired body.
But, I can't. Not yet. I have to keep going even though I'd rather not walk another one of these draining steps.
Lately, I ask, "Why?"
I've never really done that before, because my thought has always been, "Why anyone?" Why am I special not to have struggle, so why NOT me?
But, it has gotten more difficult and all I want is for it to please, please come back.
Everyday the realization is increasingly unmistakeable and many days I just don't know how I am going to handle it as it continues. I want it back as I experience the the innocence of a pleading child. I'm doing my best to keep myself going, because every second I can it delays the inevitable - more serious stages. I cry and then I stop and then I proceed and I cry some more.
It is a fine balance between acceptance and fighting back with optimism. I've accepted it, but I also don't want to give up.
The other night I took a bath and with my legs dangled outside of the tub I looked at those lifeless legs and my weak arms and said "Legs, I have to learn to love you and we need to work together."
Since, I've been stretching, doing yoga every morning and night and swimming on the weekends. I hope this post trip weakness will dissipate and what I had will come back.
Even though I would like my whole body to come back to me, I would be happy just for a little to come back. I have a feeling these words will continue to come out of my mouth and even smaller things will become of more significance as I progress. Nevertheless, I don't think I will ever stop missing "it".