Monday, February 13, 2012

Another I Can't post. I think it needs it's own category

I'm having to re-vamp my San Fran Plan.  Which was to walk everywhere, and work up to my former 4-5 miles a day.  To go the beach often, and explore all the dog parks regularly.

Physically, I simply can't do it.

So I will start to explore the city via the public transportation.  With an eye towards learning how people in wheelchairs manage the MUNI, and keeping an eye out for easy access.  Because a wheelchair is going to happen alot sooner than later, no matter how much I don't want to think or talk about it. 

Today was hard, emotionally.  MS keeps slapping me in the face.  I don't WANT to think about it all the time, but it's being very abusive.  Thought I was done with that aspect of my life.

When I left for the dog park this morning, I felt great.  Not a clue of what was to happen less than half an hour later.  It was a rainy, deary damp morning.  I put on rain boots, because the park is a mud pit from the sprinklers, let alone the rain.  And I wore a long poncho thing that my mom gave me a couple of weeks ago.  I've discovered that if the boots are a bit too big, then they're less likely to over-heat my feet.  Sure, I'm clumsy instead, but that fits right in with the MS.  No, my boots aren't too big - I have MS!

I can't wear a raincoat most of the time, because it's like being in a sauna.  Cooking inside plastic is not my idea of a lovely time.  I have a really nice raincoat that I picked up for 3-4 dollars, lined with a light fleece, which is the same thing the poncho thing is made of.

It's only rained 3 or 4 times so far this winter, so I have yet to get my rainy day attire lined out.  On a normal day, I have to take my key card, keys, glasses, leash, Chuckr, ball, and poop baggies. A hat on bad hair days.  And a camera, but I either forget it most of the time, or it's just too much to carry.   I love days when I discover there's pockets in my clothing.  Oh, and the dog.  Some days, I really wonder if having her defeats the purpose.  I NEED two hands, but she requires one of them.  I try not to make her work at the park, and she's off leash there, but the block in between the park and home can be a battle at times, especially when she REALLLLY needs to go potty!

Add an umbrella to the mix, and I've reached the limits of coordination.  And then there's elevator buttons to push, handicapped door openers to punch, and a heavy gated door.... let's just say today was a bit much.  Plus the wind was blowing my umbrella inside out till I finally got pissed and tossed in into the garbage bin at the park.

Guess which one I'm leaning towards...

I ran into my friend, who lives on the next block, and we walked together to the park.  I told her we had to keep moving, cause Annie had on her fancy raincoat, and I didn't want to give her a chance to roll in the mud.  She loves to roll over her ball, like it's a personal massager of some sort.  A really nice man gave it to her, so I wanted to show him it was appreciated (if he happened to be there).  (Which he wasn't)   Plus it matched my coat.  After today, I've decided it's a walk about town on the sidewalks sort of coat - not a muddy rainy day at the park sort of coat. 

So we headed right up the hill, and about halfway up, I asked Sadie when the hill grew taller.  By the time we got to the top (one block, mind you), I was done.  Done. DONE.  Hunched over.  Had to stop and rest under a tree.  Had to make Annie work, because I couldn't walk straight.  But she can't help with the weakness.  My legs were noodles.  Wet noodles.  Weak noodles.

I didn't dare do the staircase, so we went around, which added footage to the journey home.  It took twice as long, and I had to choose between slight hills, or longer footage.  I chose the hilly route, and by the time I dropped Sadie off at her block, I had to lean against a house for awhile before going the last half block to my apartment.  I think it took 15 minutes to go that half a block.

This feeling great, without a clue or symptom when I leave the house, only to hobble back like a trussed up calf is one of the reasons why I am afraid of a wheelchair.  "They" say once you get in, you never get out.  I WANT to walk as much as I can, but based on today, I'd have to be in it all the time "just in case".

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