My Daily Fog

Monday night

Just back from a meeting of diverse theatre artists with disabilities from neophytes to working professionals planning for the “Lame is” cabaret September 14 and 15, presented by the sick and twisted theatre company, Deb Paterson Artistic Director.  There were at least a dozen of us, working out ideas and groups.  I deviated from agenda for a meltdown while listing my disabilities, though promising “Comedy Tonight!” 

While crying at home doesn’t worry me, crying in a working group  takes me back to one of my first public meltdowns, at a staff meeting, and seeing the expressions on the face of those around the table, most of whom I hired, and in one case  a  look of disgust while turning away. I remember that look every time I do it again, still not able to unhook that look from my psyche. There seems always more work to do. 

I can say I have been treated well by the health care system, responding to my mental health  and physical health issues you can find in the about section of this site. A combination of white privelege, caring family members and patient advocacy all important. Mind you I don’t  see any rich people  here, and while trauma, injury and disease is common to the rich and the poor alike, and while reduction to essentials like breathing might make economic ststus harder to see, I can tell that no one percenter is in a four bed ward. 

Tuesday morning

I’m waiting for foot care for my golden good foot, because between the toughness of the nails, and the weakness in my hands I can’t manage it myself.

Plus I’m not supposed to bend my knee out (flamingo style) so as not to stress my artificial hip. Small little thing, but I have to wait for the foot care nurse. I’m not an urgent priority because I’m not diabetic. Triage. Waiting. Aha! Good person, this morning, foot care nurse, a relief. Now back up on my feet. 

Good person also my son Theo, who brought more stuff from the van. I have a lot of stuff. Leg extender for wheelchair, a reacher all the better to reach you with, toiletries, books. Lots of family support, sibs and kids, all good. I get a real coffee and meet him in the courtyard garden.

OT yesterday afternoon was about wheelchairs. Do I want a box frame that comes apart to load, or a cross-braced wheelchair that folds in half, and has wheels that come off. I also need to choose a recipe to cook a meal in the kitchen. 

I met my new PT Monday at 3:00 pm, learning a whole bunch and realizing I’ve ended up falling behind in my walking, so must aim for wearing new left foot for three hours today, two spent walking. Also stairs, but that’s during therapy.

Now I think I’ll confirm my appointment to see my shrink on Wednesday. 

This entry was posted in Music for Men Over Fifty: Poems of Love and Surgery, My (new) Left Foot, My Daily Fog. Bookmark the permalink. Trackbacks are closed, but you can post a comment.

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