One learns one's limitations and either adapts, asks for assistance, or just does without. It is also vital to be able to laugh at oneself.
I learned very quickly that, when something is dropped on the floor, much thought and preparation must be taken in order to pick it up without falling over. Without balance, just unbuttoning your trousers while bending slightly to lift the toilet seat can result in diving head-first into the porcelain bowl. (Well...it nearly happened.)
Natural movements are not "natural" for one with a vestibular disorder. If someone calls your attention to something, you naturally turn to look. I must LOOK to TURN.
A blow came this week in the form of a kind offer from my "much, much older" sister. Upon learning that, on top of the vestibular and hearing problem, I am currently suffering from allergy-induced asthma and deteriorating knees, recently had a melanoma removed from my back and a cyst found in my breast, she has offered to come to Arizona to take care of ME; my sister, who is 17 years older and still writing a weekly human-interest column for her local Florida newspaper, and who, a couple years ago said that she would probably never be able to travel again due to age-related health issues.
As the annoying baby sister, I love to send her mean birthday cards...usually a week's worth. I look for the funniest all year round. One of the funniest I remember had the statement on the front "For your birthday, I have arranged for the delivery of a bouquet of balloons; one for each year." On the inside was a floating delivery guy with a huge bouquet. The message read "He was last seen somewhere over Cleveland." The cyst, by the way, was found to be nothing but a small fibrous mass. The knees are just a discomfort most of the time at this point and I am avoiding surgery so far with 5 weekly gel shots administered every 6 months directly under the knee cap.
The asthma is controlled with a once-daily inhaler, but allergies over the past couple weeks turned into a painful and exhausting sinus infection and curtailed my fitness walks which were already temporarily limited by a round of gel shots in my knee.
While it would be wonderful to have someone to do those things for me that are most difficult or impossible...grocery shopping and lugging them into the house, toting my recycle bin to the dumpster, running errands or going out to dinner after dark, carrying things up and down the stairs, and numerous chores that have gone by the wayside...I don't need or want a nursemaid. In fact, in many ways the presence of another in my daily environ makes it more difficult for me.
Part of my adaptation involves the placement of my furniture and belongings to avoid trip hazards and for ease of moving about my home. Lights must be turned on/off in a specific order so that I always have a light source. Alone, I am not constantly required to hear and understand what another has said.
I have already regrettably advised my son that his family of five can no longer stay with me when they visit because of these things. I love having my home full of family and it breaks my heart that I can no longer unless I have a windfall that would allow me to expand. That being said, a guest or two is still more than welcome, but they MUST understand my difficulties and take care to keep them in mind.
By carrying my own night lights and a sonic-shaker travel alarm clock, I manage to adapt to hotel rooms or overnight visits with family or friends enough to comfortably spend a few days at a time away from home. I've learned that I cannot be rushed and, therefore, must always be organized and allow plenty of time to be ready for anything. Again, my hosts must understand and plan accordingly.
The negative thoughts have been creeping in and finally manifested themselves in the realization that I will never fulfill my retirement dreams though just three years ago they were nearing reality. Now that I have the time, because I have been unable to maintain my employment, I can't afford to travel, go to concerts and plays and, even if I could afford it, I am physically unable. I don't know if those who grow old gradually suffer the same grief, but I am suddenly done. I can no longer do those things that I love and dreamed of continuing on a grander scale in retirement.
Full retirement has come...
"The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, nor to worry about the future, but to live the present moment wisely and earnestly."... Buddha
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