This morning, as I watched the Other Half put my socks on, I realised something.
Things have moved from being normal, to not quite as normal as they should be.
That’s my normal of course. Living with bendy arms and legs, and chronic pain, I’m kind of used to not being able to do everything that everyone else does. But just recently, the stuff I can do and the stuff I need help with has shifted, so that now I’m finding myself having to ask for help with lots of things.
I can’t brush my hair. I can’t get myself dressed. I struggle changing nappies and lifting the kids and walking up and down the stairs.
I only realised the other day, when Bubby D started making a strange groaning noise, that she was imitating me, and the noise that I hadn’t realised I was making whenever I try and pull open doors, or help her do up her zip, or try and unfasten her car seatbelt. All these things are kind of painful, and take a lot of effort – but they’re things that I just get on with because I have to do them.
But the thing is, those things AREN’T normal, are they?
I want to be able to go out and have fun with the kids. I want to be able to safely secure them in the pushchair without screaming. I want one day to be able to get rid of the pushchairs and not worry that I don’t have a handy ‘crutch’ to use when we are walking around. It’s frustrating, and saddening, to hear Bubby D tell her little friends at preschool that ‘mummy has poorly legs’ and ‘she’s too heavy for hugs’.
I’ve kind of been avoiding it. But, watching my socks being put on, just as I sometimes help the kids with their socks I realised. I need to admit I have a problem. And I need to try and fix it, if I can.
So I’ve made an appointment with the doctor, and I’m kind of scared. I feel good that I’ve finally done it – but I’m not looking forward to it either. I don’t really know what I’ve going to say and I don’t know what they are going to say.
I guess there is only one way to find out…