Well, things are ... different, nowadays.
I won't say "changing" because that implies they (whatever "they" are, the aforementioned "things," I guess) have some sort of direction, that they're ceasing to be exX and becoming Y. Well, I have no idea what the target of "becoming" might be and given the "differences," I have no flipping idea what may be "changing." But things are definitely ... different.
I am definitely experiencing physiological differences... whether they've been there for a while and I'm just now noticing them, or I'm noticing the differences are they're happening for the first time... well, I don't know.
But it is definitely an experience. WOW, is it an experience.
I'm really trying to do at least a little music writing. I may be found something (as it were) that'll take me onto the next step, in the writing process, and that was good. It's gonna take a lot of work 'cause it's gonna take a lot of notes. But after working a while, I had to stop, for a bunch of reasons. When will I be able to resume this? Tomorrow, definitely... at least, that's my imagination. Dream. Hope.
I'm increasingly worried about simply "going somewhere," about leaving the house. I have an imagination/intention/dream/hope to leave the house, get into my truck, and drive "all the way" to a store which, fortunately, is enormously wheelchair-friendly. But my legs are so shaky/weird/different—oh heck, let's just call it different—that I am fearful about using them outside of the house for any reason.
Hell, I'm on the edge of afraid to use them inside the house, for that matter. I made a point earlier today, filed under "dammit, I am doing this," of going to the backyard vegetable pots. They look great. I think they'd like a little water... I also think they'd like a little mulch, but that's gonna involve one hell of an adventure (get a friend, go to the outdoor-stuff store, pick up the mulch, take it home, had aforementioned friend load the mulch into the backyard and if possible, into the veggie pots). Doesn't sound like much in the Old Days, but given how little control I have over my legs, and how worried I am becoming about going into the world... it's big.
Before I can conquer the "going into the world" thing, I need at least to clarify my state, my capabilities... to see exactly what things are a fear-filled response, and which are prudent. But the first thing that is necessary is observation, followed by honesty, and (a word I've spoken of before) copping to the truth of my current capabilities.
None of us "know" what's going to happen. Most of us can be more-than-reasonably certain that when they stand up, they'll keep standing. And that when they stand at something, they can keep standing at something, as long (within reason and practice) as they want to.
I don't fall down often. But I have. And I would have fallen down more if I wasn't as good as I am at availing myself of nearby support. Which I have inside my house, in most places that I reach for it.
Which I don't have outside the house.
You see how the fear builds so very easily.
Now, if I do things (whatever those "things" are) correctly, even in my current state the fall-probability is significantly reduced. .Much of the work at physical therapy has been in things like simply standing up, or transferring from the wheelchair to another seat (on various kinds of seat), and back. In the controlled environment of the physical-therapy sessions, the probability of falling and injuring one's self is significantly reduced. Therapists are very careful to simplify the environment/situation so that the only thing you have to worry about is completing the assigned task. It's a wonderful place to learn, to practice.
Outside that environment, I cannot control the "variables" like I can within the environment. Often it's very easy for me to get into the "do it right and that eliminates possibility of disaster" headspace (which is a nice thing about "do it right"), sometimes I get into the head of "Oh well—guess we can't deal with that." And sometimes I get into the "moan with frustration and/or despair" headspace, and I'm also too often knocking on the door of "let's just give up to start with" space.
Sometimes the best I can do is just live fully in whatever space I'm in. To be truthful about what's happening and what I feel.
New challenges every day. On so many different levels.