I am, I am and I do. Breathe. Swallow. Talk. A lot. All the time. Hopefully not borrowed time. So far, ALS has been sated with the consumption of my arm and leg muscles. It has reveled in attempting to trip me up and eat into my stability and confidence. I am determined to continue to skirt the abyss and push myself beyond any expected capability, all the while knowing I'll likely hurt those around me more than myself if I crash and burn. I need to push myself both mentally and physically lest I fall into a chasm of resignation. I will walk with risk, always ready to "trip the light fantastic" whatever that means, likely not stumbling over a Tiffany lamp. If my fingers continue to curl, I will continue to force them straight. If my knees buckle, I'll pretend I'm dancing. If all else fails, I'll flail around seeking to grasp anything stable and pirouette one handed to the floor. Funny it is that if I lean even slightly in any direction I run the risk of becoming a human juggernaut, propelling and accelerating until I either dive bomb to the ground or halt at an obstruction. If I eliminate the potential for pain and injury, the visual imagery is hilarious. I might have to label myself the "bumbling ALSer".
A tough realization is that now, with my condition, I cannot be a protector, relegated to the ranks of those needing to be protected. I have spent my whole life protecting: physically standing up to any kind of aggression, handling any financial dangers, foisting my verbiage upon those who intended to insult or upset my family, bucking the cheaters and con men. While I can still deliver a potent tongue lashing, I am helpless if things become physical. Adding to my dismay is that I've been involved in Taekwondo for 24 years as a student, teacher (15 years), 5th degree blackbelt master (7 years) and would now loose a battle with a Ziplock. If the house is burning, figure on roast Tracy for dinner, because I'm not going anywhere fast. I have to accept that two years ago, I could outrun my entire family, whereas now my 18 month old grandson can dust me (unless I fell on him and got back up quickly to finish the race before he recovered and whipped my ass). All is not lost, though, as I am apparently still adept at hurling sarcasms and demands, crossing every line of civility and reason, often as a result of my frustrations with my limitations. Don't for a minute believe I see this as a positive development. All is not lost only because I still have the fight in me to be cantankerous. My wife, inundated with a million new duties and responsibilities, takes the brunt of my ass holeness (crude, sorry). I have designated her protector general manager, while Rachel is bodyguard emeritus. I am a king on a Jazzy, demanding everything of my minions. I intend to make myself a fair king, a just king- one who rules from his roost with a kind gesture and soothing words for those who care for me. All I need now is to find the source for a personality transplant.
All kidding aside, I've come to a point where I must weigh my words better, careful not to alienate myself from others. While I will never accept fate, I must accept reality. Meantime, look for me at many public functions, either hobbling, rolling or stretched out on a borrowed gurney. In the next few weeks, Nick will be performing in Peoria and I don't want to miss feeling the pride that temporarily drowns out my ALS.
A tough realization is that now, with my condition, I cannot be a protector, relegated to the ranks of those needing to be protected. I have spent my whole life protecting: physically standing up to any kind of aggression, handling any financial dangers, foisting my verbiage upon those who intended to insult or upset my family, bucking the cheaters and con men. While I can still deliver a potent tongue lashing, I am helpless if things become physical. Adding to my dismay is that I've been involved in Taekwondo for 24 years as a student, teacher (15 years), 5th degree blackbelt master (7 years) and would now loose a battle with a Ziplock. If the house is burning, figure on roast Tracy for dinner, because I'm not going anywhere fast. I have to accept that two years ago, I could outrun my entire family, whereas now my 18 month old grandson can dust me (unless I fell on him and got back up quickly to finish the race before he recovered and whipped my ass). All is not lost, though, as I am apparently still adept at hurling sarcasms and demands, crossing every line of civility and reason, often as a result of my frustrations with my limitations. Don't for a minute believe I see this as a positive development. All is not lost only because I still have the fight in me to be cantankerous. My wife, inundated with a million new duties and responsibilities, takes the brunt of my ass holeness (crude, sorry). I have designated her protector general manager, while Rachel is bodyguard emeritus. I am a king on a Jazzy, demanding everything of my minions. I intend to make myself a fair king, a just king- one who rules from his roost with a kind gesture and soothing words for those who care for me. All I need now is to find the source for a personality transplant.
All kidding aside, I've come to a point where I must weigh my words better, careful not to alienate myself from others. While I will never accept fate, I must accept reality. Meantime, look for me at many public functions, either hobbling, rolling or stretched out on a borrowed gurney. In the next few weeks, Nick will be performing in Peoria and I don't want to miss feeling the pride that temporarily drowns out my ALS.
It's a good thing you taught us well dad. You know that if there was a threat, physical or verbal, I would sufficiently beat it back in a fashion that would make you proud. You know not to misread my smile and size to think that I would not defend my family and friends with vigor. I'm like my dadda in more ways than one! And I honestly believe that if you were faced with a threat, you would find a way to make whatever you have work to your advantage, even if it was falling on the bad guy! I wouldn't bet against you!
ReplyDeleteneither would I.I tell my students that NO one can EVER take away your Black Belt. The same holds true for you. Once a Master ALWAYS a Master!maybe I can help you learn some dirty tricks?
ReplyDeleteTracy, I laughed at the thought of you falling on a mear child to win a race. haha Somehow, I could imagine the ego that it would take to make that happen. I don't see that as you though. Maybe now I might have a chance. The challenge is on. Me.....and you....at your house.....Friday at noon! Taking it to the street. Bring it bubba! haha I'm sooo glad your back. At this point in time I feel like an athlete. Dan is going to be pretty laid up for the next 3 months. He had ankle surgery last Friday.(Dec. 9) Tendon and ligament repair. I feel like asking him to hold a light bulb in his hand so I can make him a lamp. Poor thing. I feel so bad for him. Getting him in the tub takes half the morning. Most of that time is trying to convince him that it isn't emasculating to bathe instead of showering. He's hanging tough though. I think you need to give him a call to stave off the boredom.
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