A phrase popped into my head recently as I was bemoaning the undeniable proliferation of my symptoms, noticed most prominently in my barometric measurement of my facial numbnness. Previously, it was alarming, but negligible. It started becoming fairly noticeable about two weeks ago when it crossed the median & began affecting the other side of my face. On one hand, it might balance out the effects on the right side, thereby negating the outward conspicuousness there; on the other, it continues also to reinforce the hard fact that my condition is worsening. As I gave up looking for an irritating eyelash recently, I thought of Emily Dickinson's poem "I felt a Funeral, in my Brain," & the line "I dropped down, & down--" in its final stanza.
When I was first diagnosed, I kept thinking that it couldn't get worse. I thought this as I moved from cane, to walker, to wheelchair/power chair. Needless to say, I've stopped saying it altogether, or even thinking it. I think an interesting barometer that I can use (for now) in order to determine the status of the disease is the numbness on my face. As soon as my fingers' dexterity grew worse, I just stopped certain activities. No harm, no foul, considering how people in my vicinity were actually relieved. Using a pen, it was fine not to be able to write effectively. I had a keyboard, but even that became onerous. Now, my iPad fulfills the crevice left by not being able to write on that due to my increasing reluctance to remain upright for continuously extended periods of time. (Very "meta," by the way.)
So I can scratch that off the list, at least until an awful confluence of events causes me to communicate, like Jean-Dominique Bauby in The Diving Bell & the Butterfly, via blinking. One of the few good things about the ailment is that I have virtually unlimited time in which to expound on seemingly trivial minutiae (my specialty). Up until fairly recently, I had felt frustrated by my inability to communicate such issues that warranted my critical eye, such as...anything, really.
Luckily, we live in remarkably amenable times, so I can do things that previously were unthinkable. If this had been even five years ago, who knows how I would have been able to communicate? I have absolutely no talent for photography (I could never draw, so I just skipped to photography), so my options would have been very limited. Like the old man in Breaking Bad, I would have been reduced to ringing a bell in order to express myself. I'd almost certainly grow frustrated & throw it against a wall.
So I have stopped wondering what may come next. I "Finished knowing--then."
R
