My morning was almost like any other Saturday morning. There was coffee, a dog walk, and a shower before heading over to my friend’s house to help with the cutest little girl in the land’s second birthday party.
I felt a bit sleep deprived, but generally good. My legs felt stable, and I even walked the block with my walker over to help.
As people arrived, I visited out in the yard with them, colored with the birthday girl at the little table, held the cutest little boy in the land, and all the while couldn’t quite identify what didn’t feel quite right with my legs.
Until I was no longer in full command of my left foot or leg, so my balance was off. I sat down in a chair and stayed there until I could figure out how I would make my way inside making a little of an effort as possible. My walker was parked in the car port, and try as I might, I was unable to telepathically transport it to me in the yard.
My secret hope was that if I sat there long enough in one spot, my left leg would work as it was supposed to again.
The conversations around me were interesting, so I was engaged in them enough to focus less on what seemed to be a problem. I got up from my chair to give a couple of hugs to some early leavers and noted I had no real balance without leaning on something.
It was time for me to make my way inside, as unnoticed as possible, to find a seat. While I wanted to continue chatting outside, I kept wanting to get up to chat with folks I hadn’t seen in a while who were seated or standing too far away, but couldn’t.
I could feel the tears welling up and I was starting to use a great deal of energy trying not to freak out, so I had to move myself away from the party in case I was unsuccessful.
As I made my way inside, I had trouble lifting up the left foot high enough off the ground to walk over towels in the Florida room, nearly tripping myself up on them. A burst of adrenaline followed the near fall, which seemed to help get me back in the house safely. As the adrenaline slowed, the tears wanted to fall even more.
My goal was to get inside so that I could sit quietly and figure out how to shift my thoughts about my left leg not working right. But there were people inside, so I sat down and listened to someone sharing their woes of marriage and motherhood as a distraction to the tears.
After getting home from the party, the tears fell. Continuing into the following day, the tears and freaking out continued. Each task I attempted to complete was exhausting because the left leg simply would not cooperate at all. While it improved with rest and medication Sunday, I undid all of that within an hour by attempting to do laundry and tend to the dogs’ needs.
It steadily improved as the days progressed. I grew fonder of my walker. I grew less fond of the freaking out and flashing back to the early days of the illness, however. I am not sure all of that has to be necessary next time I overdo it.
I do not know if there was one incident of overdoing it, or an accumulation of months of overdoing it, but I do know I need to keep better track of the types of activities I am doing, energies being expended doing them, and at least do my best to decrease the chances of this sort of thing happening again in the future.