Things have been indeed, very intense, since I last corresponded with you.
What has passed for "walking," even generously called "wall walking," has significantly degenerated. I still am sorta-kinda-vaguely ambulatory around the house, but only in certain rooms; there's a corner between the front door and the living room that doesn't really provide me quite enough to hang onto (it hasn't been an issue until nowadays), and that one particular corner can be kinda scary. It may not be actually treacherous, but it sure feels that way.
I have been dipping into full-on terror flashes. Able-bodied friends who really do help me a lot have suggested things as simple as "here, take my hand" or "try this, that should work easily" turn out to be not the right thing and the even beginning to try them doesn't just scare me, I lock up in full-blown terror. Not a "panic attack" or anything like that, but I just freeze up and say "I'm lost" or "I'm scared" and eventually, finally, get around to saying "I can't."
I got a chair for the shower, last week. Nice indeed to be able to just sit in the shower, rather than hang on to thing never intended to be hung onto and hope they'll not break or come out of the wall. But getting over the lip of the tub, that's a problem. I'm going to physical therapy today, I'll talk to my therapist about that and see whether she has any suggestions...
But I think it's time to stop trying to devise "oh, I'm sure that'll be fine" solutions that turn out to be completely not fine, or if fine at the moment then they suddenly become treacherously temporary solutions, especially temporarily safe solutions... it's time to find a professional who makes houses more handicap friendly. Who knows how to make things actually safe because they work all the time with people just like me.
Because, unfortunately, "better" is one thing I ain't getting.
My wife is gonna get a new car next week. She's very excited! And I'm very happy for her, too. Loans all pre-approved, we're set to go. She knows which type of car she wants. But we're going to be sure that my wheelchair can fit into the trunk, before anything is completely settled.
Ah, accommodations. "Gotta make sure it'll fit the bassinet" is one thing. "Gotta make sure it'll fit the wheelchair" is another.
With luck, I'll outgrow mine, too. Health-wise, not girth-wise. Although at just over 6 feet tall and currently 136 or so pounds, a little more mass wouldn't hurt. Especially in the butt. Yes, I need a bigger butt. To make it easier to sit on my shower chair, for one thing.
Now, how many times do you ever hear that? A wish for a bigger butt.
Ah, MS tragicomedy. The joke writes itself...