The great oatmeal war

One of the “joys” of having the neurological problems that I deal with is that every day is an adventure. Half my days are what I would consider normal, being able to function to an extent around the house, and taking care of my own home and myself. A quarter of my days are spent pretty much flat on my back in bed, dealing with tremors, pain and feelings of getting electro-shock treatment throughout my body. Then there are the days where I feel somewhat okay, but can’t think well enough to string five words together to form a coherent thought. Those days are the hardest. It is truly frustrating not being able to communicate what my thoughts are to others. It also affects my writing, and makes it difficult to sit at a keyboard.

I can sit and type, then look at the screen and not recognize half the words I have written. Thank God and Microsoft for spell check. On the days were things are not hitting on all cylinders, the squiggly lines that pop up in every third word keeping me from looking like an uneducated fool.

The other fun part of having all the problems I have is the excitement of not knowing what differing parts of my body are going to do at any given moment. Yesterday is a prime example. I had spent the majority of the day in bed, my head swimming in circles to the point where I could not walk from one room to another without falling. After doses of medication, and a long nap, I decided to venture to the store to pick up some needed items. When you are out of cat food, the cat becomes quite pissed off. That is when she starts using your leg as a scratching post. Off I went to the store, and after a few minor setbacks, I had to stop a few times to let my brain catch up with my body, I headed home. That was when the fun started.

I got home, took a break for a few minutes to catch my breath and regroup, and then attempted to put away the treasures bought. It was while I was putting things up in the kitchen that I learned a valuable life lesson. DO NOT knock over the FULL box of instant oatmeal sitting on the counter. It will pop open and spill its contents all over the floor. The mess wasn’t as bad as the attempted cleanup. I grabbed my handy broom and dustpan,

The battle is on!

The battle is on!

and tried to sweep up the oats that had scattered here and there. The only problem with uncooked oatmeal is that it is, on an individual oat level, very light. Every time I would sweep one way, scores of oats would float or bounce up, going hither and dither, making more of a mess.

I fought the great oat battle for ten minutes or so, and then surrendered. There are still oats lying about the floor, and under counters and carts. I will get the shop vac out today, and continue the war, hopefully with better results. I figured that one night of oats being on the floor was better than me ending up on the floor. Plus, it will give the mouse that is hiding in my kitchen a snack for the middle of the night.

The frustration comes in, not with the fact that I dumped an entire carton of oats on the floor, but rather that I was unable to finish cleaning up the mess. As I attempted to sweep and bend to pick up the cereal, I got dizzy, with head swimming and eyes fluttering uncontrollably. Then there is the issue of motor control. I have a persistent problem with controlling my hands and arms. Some days are wonderful, and I can perform dexterous activities. Then there are days like yesterday, where my hands don’t know if I am holding something or not. While dropping things is a nuisance, I have switched to plastic cups, it is more the frustration of not knowing when my hands will let loose. Add to that the tremors that are with me daily, and you have a recipe for a mess. I muddle through, sometimes leaving a mess in my wake. I only wish I would be having one of my shaky days when I visit the doctor. My body is like an old car. Something goes wrong, you take it to the mechanic and it seems to operate perfectly. As soon as you drive out of the shop, the rattle comes back, and it starts to backfire. That is my body. I leave the doctor and start rattling and backfiring all the way home.

As I sit here, eyes beginning to flutter, and hands shaking, I realize it is time to take another nap. See you later.

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About Joseph Ordower

I'm a middle aged, some would say curmudgeon, who is sick, tired and truly frustrated with the way things are going in a country (America) that he loves, honors and respects.
This entry was posted in Food, Humor, Illness, Thoughts on life, Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to The great oatmeal war

  1. read this says:

    I really like your blog.. very nice colors & theme.
    Did you create this website yourself or did you hire someone to do it for you?
    Plz reply as I’m looking to design my own blog and would like to know where u got this from. thanks

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