Category Archives: Venting

Hands On

I have bright purple nails. They will last for at least three weeks, and probably longer. It’s just regular nail polish, not the gel or no-chip kind that is supposed to withstand the tsunami of running a household. I don’t need that kind anymore. When I used to wear regular nail polish, it would chip within two days, helped along by my fluttering fingers that were always in motion. But now, it lasts forever. I don’t cook, I don’t clean, I don’t bathe my child or wash my own hair. I don’t even have the energy to pick at the polish the way I used to, and so my hands always look nice now, my skin soft, the nails short and square. Thanks, ALS.

Sometimes it’s nice to have other people do things for you. I’ve always liked getting my nails done, as opposed to doing them myself. And I’ve never cut my own hair… Wait, I take that back, I did once cut my own hair in my early 20s by putting it in a ponytail and lopping off the tail part. That was pretty satisfying in an I’m going to regret this later kind of way.

But there’s lots of self care that’s just better to do yourself. Flossing, for example. I know I should consider myself lucky that I have an assistant who is willing to floss my teeth, and I do. But still. Read More>

Shady

It’s been a hard week. Rob was traveling, Scarlett was finishing kindergarten, and I have just been trying to manage all of the moving parts of our lives—not so successfully. Every two weeks I meet with a social worker, and today I told her that I felt like writing an angry blog. “I wouldn’t want to post it, though,” I said.

“Well,” she began thoughtfully. “Couldn’t you write it, and just not post it?”

There was a time in my life when I wrote many things that were never intended for public consumption, but now that it is so difficult to get words on the page, I don’t want to waste my energy dictating and correcting something only to delete it. So instead, I’ll share some things that I’m uncomfortable sharing, since I took the time to write them down. Read More>

Staying Home

Rob and Scarlett are going camping tomorrow with her kindergarten class. Although there are some moms going, it’s mainly a dads’ and daughters’ trip, so even if I didn’t have ALS, I wouldn’t be there. And that makes it easy for me to imagine what I would be doing this weekend if I wasn’t in this wheelchair.

A long run. A visit to my new niece. Maybe a drink with girlfriends. Sleeping in.

Certainly not having a caregiver arrive at noon on Saturday and stay until my family gets home on Sunday. To feed me, brush my teeth, put me in bed. I’m not trying to have a pity party, but I can’t help sitting here thinking this is too weird to be real. I used to have a life, and it didn’t revolve around needing constant care.

I’m glad they’re going camping, though. It will be fun for them to spend time together, away from the constraints of my reality. Nice for Rob to get to know other parents in an environment where he’s not worried about taking care of me. This is a theme that’s surfacing more and more often in my mind. I can’t escape from my disease, but that doesn’t mean my family shouldn’t be allowed to. Read More>