The sheer volume of things that go wrong on a daily basis often pass me by. I no longer stop and think about it. I never did make a fuss. And mostly, I don’t think it’s really that big a deal. I woke up this morning amidst a thunder storm struggling to breathe. I sat up and reached for my inhaler. Shook it, dislocated my wrist, flipped the switch at the top, dislocated my thumb, breathed ventolin, put back my thumb, put back my wrist and repeated this ten times. It was not an usual start to the day. The gods were smiling and the ventolin kicked in perfectly and I got out of bed. Dislocated my ankle putting my foot on the floor without checking where the floor is first. It happens. Dislocated patella courtesy of a few dozen stairs too many and was rather greatful that Chris left the wheelchair out downstairs. Dislocated my shoulder and was less happy that chris left the wheelchair out downstairs. Anterior shoulder dislocations are easy to put back in, so I wasn’t truly bothered. Most joints go back in pretty easily. The ones that don’t tend to not come out as easily, so there is an upside. I try not to stop and think about it.
Partial dislocations aren’t fun and usually, my day begins with subluxations, not dislocations. I miss those days. Being sick this week has taken its toll on joints, they just will not stay put. But I don’t dwell, there seems to be no point to dwelling. Instead I try to make it an easy day. Lounge, chat, listen to the rain and watch the cat sleep and breathe rhythmically with a little envy. People often ask why I don’t mention what’s happening. I try to remember, but I forget. Being sick is just there, like having a particular hair colour or wearing a favourite pair of shoes. I don’t think about it all that much or maybe I do but just don’t talk about it much. I am always aware of being in pain. I am aware of the tightness in my chest and how difficult it makes breathing sometimes. I dislike going into detail. It seems somehow selfish and indulgent. I don’t want it to always be about me and what’s going on with me. Sometimes, its just nice to be another number, a team player, a little more like everybody else.
I don’t often allow people in. Sometimes, letting other people in means saying ‘please distract me’, link me cute cat video’s, talk to me about TV shows and games, give me a running commentary of your raid when I can’t raid, make campfires and tell me about your favourite books. Other times, it is a quiet request to let me complain a little, let me cry and just be there and then send me the cute cat video and talk about fun stuff. And sometimes, its nice to be reminded that its not always about this. The sum total of life should never be how well or poorly I am today. Sometimes its just nice to be me and the juggling is just one part, never everything.