The reason I am seething on Monday morning (a good word: seething) is that I sometimes feel as if my life is ebbing away waiting…
What am I waiting for, exactly? Is it George Clooney? That’s a possibility, he’s certainly on my Laminate List. Am I waiting for transport for an exciting new event? Well, that ship sailed many years ago! I might be waiting for a new thrilling venture such as a job offer or a publisher, although any publisher needs to have seen my work first and that requires me to mail something to said publisher and I’m just not ready yet, emotionally that is. I’m not good at taking knock-backs.
My life is passing in a series of minutes, which add up to hours, which will eventually equate days, which will turn into years waiting for someone to help me in this hateful disease called MS. I can’t get out of bed in the morning on my own, this is a situation which I struggle to accept and when I’m awake I expect to get out of bed like anyone else. However, as I need someone to assist me I am a little bit impatient in expecting them to ‘jump to it’ when I want to get up. Husband in a hurry gets out of the bedroom, takes himself downstairs to read the sports pages (which cover the football games he has watched live the day before) leisurely makes himself a cup of tea, while I stare at the ceiling upstairs. That wastes approximately 30 minutes of my day. When he is ready, I am lifted from my bed using a tracking hoist and plonked into a shower chair and wheeled into the bathroom. He then proceeds to shower himself while I wait, naked and shivering until it’s my turn, that adds another 10 minutes. When we return to the bedroom, I am placed back in my prone position on the bed to be dried and dressed from my lower half. I am then put onto my commode chair and wheeled in front of my dressing table, HIAH starts deodorising and anointing himself in cologne then dresses and brushes his teeth. At this point I wait for my PA to arrive for work, sometimes that’s 7 minutes or 27 minutes depending on what day of the week it is. My PA of the day finishes my toilette and I am ready and waiting for HIAH to transport me downstairs using the chair lift. Again, I might be waiting for up to 15 minutes until the times comes.
My day is now dependent on other people to a lesser degree. However, on Sunday I was a little miffed. I felt as if I was being overlooked and marginally belittled. I needed to get things done, I wanted to plan things even if I could not carry them out. It’s important that I am involved in my own life. My kitchen, fridge in particular, needed a ‘looking into’ my food cupboard required some reorganising and if I’m not there who else is going to do it? Well, to my standards. Husband in a hurry said I was in a bad mood and I responded with, “Well you should try it, see if you like it!”
He responded, “Maybe you could go out to work instead”
“You fell into that one, I would give anything to go out to work.”
The day did get a little better after that, but on Monday morning I was still simmering, seething even.
I like some words in this amazing thing we call language. The way I felt Monday reminded me how much I enjoy using certain words to describe my emotional state. Seething is a much neglected word, as is ‘dreary’ or ‘ghastly’ or ‘lackadaisical’.
I want to make it my mission to improve my vocabulary, so no more Mrs ‘Nice’ or ‘lovely’ banalities from now on.