My medication and weight gain have changed the way I function with gravity. I frequently get head spinning moments. Eyes open or closed, the world around me is tilting and I have to brace myself to keep from falling.
I've gotten clumsy, and I'm embarrassed. I used to pride myself on my balance and poise. Not anymore. I used to be graceful, others had frequently said so in the past. Now I feel like I can't walk a strait line any better than someone doing a D.U.I. test on the shoulder of the highway. When I'm down on the floor (a frequent position for someone with small children) I can't get up easily. I've had to add a few more steps to stand-up. It shocks me each time; I'm not used to being physically slow.
I feel unstable and on edge. Falling was on the top of my list of "Things I Didn't Want To Happen Ever Again." A year ago, before the diagnosis, medication and weight, I had a hard fall. I was running through the rain with a friend, trying to get to her house before we were soaked. The road was muddy, I was in flip flops, we were running fast and my legs gave out. My knees were pretty banged up, but what hurt the most was my pride.
I'm afraid of being embarrassed again. In this instability I've found myself grabbing stair rails or holding on to chairs when I walk past. Sudden moves are out for now. I try to brace myself when I bend down to pick something up, and I keep my eyes closed until I my head feels right. I don't take chances.
But today I fell.
I was sitting on the edge of Danny's bed when I stood up. To sturdy myself I reached for the bookcase behind me, but I misjudged the distance and didn't get a good grasp. It seemed to happen in slow motion: standing up too fast --- no grasp --- flailing arms --- toys knocked off of book case --- feet trying to find floor --- scraping my back on a metal toy --- me saying "Ow!" --- landing my bum on the floor. There was a moment of shock and assessment, then my children came to my side, like a little EMS team. They checked the scratch on my back (a lot of "oooh that's bad" and "it's bleeding!"). In fact, I was not bleeding, and there were no bones broken, but I was embarrassed and sad. I was humiliated to have been so helpless in front of my kids. I didn't want them to see me upset, so I made my way upright and went to my room. As I was doctoring my scrape I started to cry. I felt very bad. Here are the thoughts that ran through my head (they are thoughts, not truths): You are clumsy and dumb; If you weren't so fat that wouldn't happen; Your disease caused this to happen; You are getting old, your kids are healthier than you; You should have been more careful; The room should have been cleaner; IT'S YOUR FAULT. So I cried a little bit.
The drama of the fall is over, but I'm definitely bruised. Who has two thumbs and will be using a walker from now on? This girl.
