This morning started out like any other. Was finally starting to regain some strength from the Pain Drain of last weeks fiasco. Made a pot of the elixir of life to all mornings (that would be coffee to all you non coffee drinkers reading.) Had a wee bit of strength to work with so I decided to load up the washer and get it going first thing. That is something I can do. Load, rest, load dryer, rest. It works. Although, I wasn’t expecting to run an errand with the Youngest. But, I did. Thought why not. Had some strength and I needed to get out even if it was just to ride down the road a stretch. We get to the little convenient store. I go in. Get what I need and stand in a line of 3 people ahead of me at the register. As I stand there, I begin to feel my legs twitch. So I switch my weight back and forth. I’m sure I looked like a small child that had to use the restroom. “Mommy … I have to tinkle!” …. By the time I got back to the car, my left leg felt as if I were dragging around a wet noodle with me. Luckily my youngest saw me struggling and helped me, running out the door with an UN-paid for drink. He said, “I can’t believe no one else saw you and tried to help”. I told him none of them knew I was struggling. He started back in to pay for his drink and the guy behind him had already paid for it. Belief in humanity for the day restored!
Got back home and the distance from the car to the apartment, which he pulled as close to the steps in front of the apartment as he could, looked so vast to me. The Youngest walked me down the steps and into the house. I stopped at the end the stairs in the house. So daunting they looked. I had to rest some before tackling those suckers. The Youngest gave me the ol’ “atta-boy! You can do it” pep talk. With a pat on the back for reassurance, I began the climb and it ended as soon as I lifted that wet noodle I was dragging around. He caught me before I actually hit the floor.
I sat defeated on the floor. Shoulders slumped, head down and big, wet, sloppy tears just pooling inside my glasses lenses. My pride had taken a gut shot that I had felt and now I was on the floor crying sloppy tears. I’m not a cry’er. I used to be! But, not anymore. So for me to cry … it takes not only being at the end of my rope. Rather, lost the rope way back there somewhere and just never told anyone.
My, precious in the moment, son tried to help me up, but there was no standing up at this point. I asked him to go on ahead, I would crawl and didn’t want him watching. He did go on ahead and instead of listen to his Mother, he stood in the landing and watched to make sure I made it. Made it all the way to the bed. Was awful!
This is what my legs were doing when I finally got myself in bed…
Called the Neurologist and spoke with his Nurse, Cindy. We’re on first name basis now. As much as she didn’t want to tell me this, she told me he advised to come off the Lyrica for a couple of days to see if it stops. Just as I was feeling no pain!
Where is the humor when ya need it?