Except it was three blocks away from the lunch restaurant.
I don't know why, but when the conversation drifted to "Shall we go?" I said, "Yes... if you push me."
And I was glad that I did. I was wheeled three blocks, by the unbelievably generous (in both spirit and strength) husband of one of our college friends. And it was a good thing that I had asked for help, because I never would have made it that far, walking.
Later that afternoon, my wife and I went to a local market that we had never visited before... and should have, because it was wonderful. (And we'll be doing as much shopping there as we can, in the future.) I didn't ask her to push me around, I walked around it (using my walker).
And that cost me more than being pushed three blocks through Chinatown in the midday sun.
At the market, I was chatting with the lady in front of us in line, about wanting to use the rollator as a walker rather than a wheelchair, and she said, "Pride never helps. Pride only hurts."
And yeah, I don't want to ask my wife to push me around because I don't want to impose upon her any more than I (and The Disease) already do, and I hadn't thought of my "dammit, I want to walk" sentiments as pride, exactly, but...
When words with that directness and clarity simply arrive in your lap... the Universe is speaking to you.
When the Universe speaks to you... best you should listen.
So... best I should listen.
2 comments:
Have a seat, love. I'll push. (Unless Andrew is handy...)
Have just come across your blog, while wandering around all the strange junctions and connections that lead on, one to another, when you go online, so that you never know where it is all going to take you. I'm recently diagnosed with MS, so interesting times ahead! Enjoying your outlook and good humour Floreat! Floreamus omnes, come to that! Hazel
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