On the Floor

This morning, again, I found myself on he floor while transferring out of the shower. I'm glad it happened while Kristin is here. I got dressed on the floor and we giggled as she threw my butt up onto the bed. I'll figure out something so my chair doesn't slide out from under me again. I really don't want to have to call Joe to rescue me.

I used to stress about being on the floor. Right after I got out of the hospital and weighed 110 lbs. Once, yes, just once, I was able to pull myself back into my chair. Then I took an hour nap because it exhausted me. I've added a few more pounds since then and I've found myself on the floor countless times.

So many times Kristin has thrown my fatness back up on the bed. I've called hotel staff to help me, I've called friends, I've called travel companions, I've called my Mom. I hated it. I had to figure out how to do it myself because falling out of my chair wasn't going away any time soon.

I used to army crawl to the living room. My elbows got raw floor burns. I'd throw half of the couch cushions on the floor. Then I'd scoot up on one cushion, then stack two and scoot on to those, then pull myself up on to the couch. Then to the next level. It always involved a nap.

In the last year (yes, it's taken me 13 years to figure out this one), I realized I could scoot the 100 butt scoots to the garage, dragging my chair (which DOG will now do), sit on top of the ramp, toss my chair to the side of the ramp and transfer to the chair. No nap required. But it usually involves a second shower because I've swept the floor in a two-foot swath and made my ankles a bloody mess as I drag my legs behind me.

When J.D. is home, he just lifts me back into my chair. However, I'm getting fatter and he's getting older, so the ramp trick is going to have to be my standard method until I figure out a better one.

All paras travel on the floor differently. You do what works. I sit cross-legged, with my back facing the place I want to go. I scoot backwards, drag feet, scoot, drag feet. It works, but it really is inconvenient and makes me mad at myself. I used to self-loathe and cry because I can't walk. Then it changed to self-loathe and cry because I can't crawl. Then because I was too slow, then because it scared Deacon to have me on the floor. Now, seldom is it self-loathing, but unfortunately, it's acceptance.

I hate that more than being immobile.