Having neurological problems can make for an interesting day. For every “good day” I have three or four bad days. Days where parts of my body just do whatever they feel like, and I have no control over where things are going. Wednesday was one of those days.
Since I try to be as independent as I can, that independence does take a toll on me throughout the day. If I spend the morning shopping or running errands, I know that I will spend the afternoon either in bed with bad tremors and exhausted, or in the recliner with tremors and exhausted. But, there are things that have to be done and waiting for someone else to do them is not in my makeup. So Wednesday I spent the morning going to the store and the library. I got home around two in the afternoon, and after putting things away I went to take my afternoon meds. That was when the “fun” started.
I was at the table, and after taking my medication, I turned to go sit when my right leg decided that it was going to go totally in the opposite direction. I hit the floor like 200+ pounds of wet concrete. Both my legs were numb, and due to crashing like I did I mucked up my right knee, shoulder, bruised and pulled muscles in my back and generally felt like I got hit by a truck.
I tried to get up, only to flop back to the floor like a doll tossed down by an irate three-year old. As I laid there in the middle of the living room/dinning room area I thought about what I should do. Every time I tried to move to get up, the pain from falling and the accompanying spasms made it impossible to move. I had my mobile with me, so I could call someone for help. But who? If I called 911 and asked for fire/rescue to come out, I would feel like a total ass for tying up resource. I could call a friend, but it would take them at least thirty minutes to get to the house to help. So there I laid, pissed off, in pain, and unable to get off the floor.
Molly, my sixteen year old tuxedo cat, was sleeping on the back of the couch when I went splat. I could see her from where I was, and she was snoring away. After about ten minutes of trying to move and get my body in a position where I could at least drag myself to a chair, she woke up. I watched as she stretched and then climbed down off the couch to the floor. She walked over to me, did one of her plaintive meows and then proceeded to turn her rear towards me and give me that little shimmy with her tail that basically says, “Screw you!” She then jumped up to the back of the couch and went back to sleep. Damned cat!
It took another ten minutes before I was able to drag myself over to a foot stool and then prop myself up enough to get into a chair. I sat there for ten or fifteen minutes looking at the cat and shaking my head. That was when she woke back up and decided to check on me again. This time she tried to jump onto my lap, but I was hurting so bad that I pushed her off. I think I hurt her feelings because she gave me the tail shake again and went back to the couch.
Three days later I’m still sore from falling. I fall all the time, but usually I’m able to catch myself before I go all the way to the floor. I’ll grab a hold of the wall, a chair, table, counter or whatever is close, but this time all I could grab was air. The up side to all of this is that I still am able to keep some sense of humor. If it hadn’t been for the cat I would probably be upset or depressed about what happened. But all I can think of is how she decided that I was taking up “her” floor space, and needed to move. Cats! They can be a joy or a pain, but they will definitely remind you that THEY are in charge.