Let me try a specific example. A year ago I went to Kansas to see my daughter and the great grandchildren. Perhaps I used a cane. But I could get around. I wasn’t taking an hour to dress because it was so difficult to get my limbs to work in order to get socks on my feet and trousers up my legs. And I didn’t have two walkers. In rehab, darling Tashi who works on me cheerfully, and who insists that what I need is to strengthen my muscles, says she sees progress from week to week. But I have the longer view in mind, and so I am skeptical.
Will I wind up in a wheelchair? Perhaps not by next year, since I can still clean up the kitchen, dress myself, straighten the bed, feed the cat, water the plants. I depend on others to vacuum, keep the kitty litter in order, and for other things. Until this past week, I had been doing my own marketing. I’m not sure where that stands right now. And I’ve been keeping my dental appointments on my own, with the help of car service or taxis. But I won’t be surprised if the pace of decreasing debilitation hastens, though when I suggest this to Tashi, she said she doesn’t believe I have neuropathy, since I am still sensitive to feelings if she touches areas of my feet or legs.
Perhaps this is an inappropriate way to celebrate a birthday at 88. Perhaps I should be grateful for the years I have had travelling the world, working on significant book projects with talented and impressive Africans, Indians, Chinese, and Japanese. I am grateful. But I am also human enough not to want the losses I have begun to suffer.