The Rugby World Cup 2011 has launched with a plethora of fireworks and whoops. The family all climbed up Mt Hobson to get a panoramic view of the locations with 1000 others.
This is when it hits home what having a chronic degenerative disease (that doesn't sound fun!) means to me. I couldn't go up to watch the fireworks because I'd not have made it home. I had to stay home and watch between the trees so I saw flashes of light and any high fireworks. The Wynyard Quarter is apparently fantastic. I'd like to have a wander around it. Parking around there is horrific especially now so what the old me would do is park further away and walk to it - not going to happen now! I can probably hobble round it though.
I had to pass up tickets to the Home Show (I know, not exactly gold plated entertainment) because it suddenly struck me that I'd struggle with it. Of course, if I had that lime green wheelchair then it'd be a different story! ;-)
I took Millie for a walk pre fireworks - just up the drive and down the road a wee bit - a meander really. I decided to try out the floral walking stick I got when my hip was dodgy. It helped a bit but something amusing occurred. I was trying to adjust it (I think Simon has been playing with it) and thought I'd broken it because the bottom section pulled out. Then I realized it is a folding stick! I had been peeved cause I couldn't find one and Duh! I had one. Don't know if I would want to use it in daylight hours - I think it's more of a vampire aide de marchant.
I'm being very well adjusted to my diagnosis and coping with the sympathetic looks and hugs. Far better than everyone saying 'Yeah, so what!'. It's a work in progress deciding who to share with. Many people have advice - some of it a bit suspect - like the hairdresser who told me her boss' wife had MS but she became a vegetarian and now she's cured. Everyone knows someone who has MS and they're fine but from reading forums etc I'm getting a sense that not only is MS a hidden disability but when anyone is badly effected they don't hang out with their friends so they would seem fine. It's a bit like all the advice you get when you're pregnant. So I'm treating it the same way - smile, thank, file away or discard.
My next self improvement exercise is totally overcome the desire to wound, maim or eviscerate and wounded runner who moans about not being able to run for a week because of any injury. Currently I manage to bite my tongue and keep my hands off them but really on a sympathy scale they're getting a big fat zero (maybe slightly higher if I like them). I in turn whenI'm feeling sorry for myself think of Ian Winson, who lost his legs in the Onehunga Gas Main explosion. He was a driven man who was the force behind the Legend. I'm happy he at least got to run it once but I'm sorry he isn't running this year not because he's done it and once was enough but because he lost the ability to. Though maybe if he got a cool lime green wheelchair....!
So I'm coping with my bowl of lemons but could use some sugar for the lemonade.