A Slippery Slope

I likely possess more conveniences than the average quadriplegic. This afternoon I took a good look around our bedroom and realized that everything in the room served as an aid to my condition. I have a 40-inch Samsung LED 120 htz flat screen mounted to the wall so as to pivot in all directions. I sleep in a hospital bed butted up against Amy's hospital bed. I have a tray for my wheelchair. I have a tray that swings over the bed. There is a baby monitor located on a shelf over my head in case I become distressed. My bathroom is replete with grab bars, roll in shower, ADA approved toilet equipped with a Splash 1000 bidet seat that sprays, dries and sanitizes at the push of a button.  

Despite all these conveniences, despite all the help I get, despite the mobility my chair gives me I am trapped. I can only use the remote to the TV under specific circumstances. I cannot enter my bed, sit on the toilet or sit in the shower or anything else without the use of a pivot disc that enables Amy to spin me around as I lean against her shoulder. The effective distance I can reach with my right hand is roughly six inches.  The effective distance I can reach with my left is 0.  I cannot grasp anything. I cannot lift my left arm at all.  My left wrist is forever bent and seems to find itself protecting my boy parts. We have ordered a remote device for my chair so that under certain circumstances Amy can drive me. Often she needs to pull my arm into a position where I can operate the joystick. 

Amy does everything for me. She washes my face, brushes my teeth, brushes my hair, cleans my ears, my nose, showers me, applies deodorant (in jumbo amounts) and attends to plucking wild eyebrows, nose hairs and stray mustache hairs.  I wanted to grow my hair long and let the beard go but she insisted that people would think she did a poor job of taking care of me.  I got back at her by allowing her to cut my beard into a Vandyke, soon to be completed with mustache wax she must apply. I hope to get the wax in my stocking at Christmas.

Back to being trapped. I could give a list of all the things I can no longer do but it would be so long that I would lose my readership halfway through. Instead, I will give you a list of that which I can do, certainly much shorter. 

The following I can do: 
 Next to nothing.

See how easy that was?

A week ago I went to a psychic and healer. After Amy gave her a history of my life, she spent 40 minutes yawning and gesticulating, supposedly healing and reading me. Her conclusion was that I would rather be a surfer but that I felt a responsibility to family and friends that didn't allow time for my real passions.  She also sensed I was sad.  (No shit). Little did she know and less did she read that I did all the fun stuff in my life along with fulfilling my responsibilities.  Anybody who's been reading this post knows that my life was anything but a nose-to-the-grindstone drag. She asked afterwards if I felt anything, any improvements, which I did not, and told her so. She was interested in setting up another appointment (for $190 an hour) but for that kind of money I could buy enough heroin to create my own delusions. 

Someone once said Life is a Cabaret. I have no idea what that means. Actually, I do. If you're wondering, you might as well keep on doing so because I'm not telling you anything more on the subject! 

Someone once said Life is Like a Box of Chocolates, You Never Know What You're Gonna Get. Ain't that the shittin' truth. 

Someone once said Everything Happens for a Reason. They never claimed it would be a good reason.

Someone once said God Works in Mysterious Ways. I think he took the day off when I got ALS. 

Someone once said Life is a Highway.  I think I'm lost.