Cr o(oops sorry!) utches, cocktail sticks, and cats!

Hello lovely people,
Boy did I get fed up with being fed up! I’m back to normal now. Low points are low points but they can then be followed by high points and that’s where I am now, and planning to hold on to it for as long as possible! All of the following is true including the censored bits. All you have to to is work out the timing ####??<><>
I started practicing with my crutches (correct spelling) again. The dining room to the loo and back is a good distance. Three to four metres on crutches is great!

Victoria and I enjoy going to a café in Hook called The Terrace which serves a gorgeous brown bread breakfast roll including bacon (sorry vegetarians) sausage (ditto) egg (sorry vegans) and tomato (sorry carnivores). They’re so big that we share one. It’s a shame really because my eyes are as big as my stomach, and that’s big, so I’m sure I could eat one to myself, but hey, as I'm reminded quite often, I'm in shape. My shape is round and it’s round enough. I convince myself that half is enough even though my shape disagrees by growling angrily at me as the last morsel of a half bap is ingested. Now it’s time for the boss to go to Tesco’s. That means time for another skinny latte for me. One of the exciting things about MS is the poker game called bladder. Will it or won’t it wait? This time I lost the hand with a busted flush (see what I did there?:-) So methinks its only three metres in the room of relief, I’ve got my crutches with me, I can wheel to the toilet door and crutch the rest. How cool am I!

So I started into the toilet area with confidence and panache. That lasted for one orf the three metres to the action section of the room. I started with panache looking with determination but then suddenly one of the crutches skidded from under my elbow with the flight path of an Olympic javelin. Of course this manoeuver came unexpected and just at the time when my other crutch was a couple of i­­nches above the floor. Well, panache turned to pancake very quickly and I was flat on the floor with part of my mobile scrapheap balanced perfectly across my half breakfast roll container (stomach) and the other part leaning jauntily on the porcelain potty. All that was left to do was to giggle to myself with flashbacks of doing alcohol-fuelled dying fly impressions in the Odiham sergeants’ mess. Even funnier I was sober and nowadays tend to stay sober for obvious reasons. So, there’s me, flat out on a toilet floor, my head had closed the door on the way down, looking at the ceiling. At least it had been painted a nice snow white and there were no flies (alive, dead or dying) or spiders looking down at me having a fun-fest at my expense. Then I remembered why I had come into this play-room. Hmmm, oh yes! Toilet! I remember. Well, actually my bladder was doing a great job of reminding me. At this point I wished that there were spiders and flies looking down on me just to watch my next acrobatic movement of rolling over, getting on all fours, rotating 180 degrees and toddler crawling to the porcelain finish line. Well, I impressed myself anyway, and as much as I wouldn’t have minded flies and spiders watching me I was so pleased that I had done the falling cranial door closing trick so people tucking into food or drinking coffee weren’t put off their activities.

The next bit... CENSORED CENSORED CENSORED...oooh that’s better! Whilst sitting on the throne I saw just one thing on the beautifully clean floor (complete with a bum polish by me), a cocktail stick! Yes a cocktail stick! When I was a kid, my mum, in a broad Loughborough accent, used to epeatedly tell me that I could trip up over a matchstick. Well I’d gone one better! I had tripped up over a cocktail stick AND a crutch. I gathered myself up, looked as cool, calm and collected as possible and exited the little room, descended with balletic grace into my wheelchair and glided back to our table in the café. I just had time to drink my now cooled second skinny latte when Victoria arrived back from Tesco’s and said: “are you ready Dave?”. The only answer I could think of was “yep ready when you are, but don’t spare the horses because I’ll probably need the loo soon”. (If you know Victoria, please don’t tell her about crutch-gate OK?)

Last but not least, cats. Our two new(ish) cats Maxxy and Georgie boy. They are starting to become a part of our family, Maxxy is totally relaxed, and Georgie boy as relaxed as a kitten can be. Not a lot to report there really apart from that they have both mastered the cat flap which goes through twelve inches of wall which means NO MORE LITTER BOX HURRAAAAAAY! No more morning gas masks needed for Victoria and me when we open up what we call the sun-room. I’m sure that the smells these two boys can produce could bend metal!

There isn’t a moral for this blog entry, but more a bit of advice. If you use crutches don’t just look at your destination, do a ‘mine sweep’ of the terrain in front of you and to each side of you JUST in case there is a cocktail stick waiting to trip you up TTFN