This evening my sister-in-law asked a good question, and I didn’t give a very complete answer. Today is the second day of my Arizona trip. Everyone has been so kind to me and sensitive to my condition/limitations. This evening as we were walking from car to restaurant, we had to step over a log. Rachel was near me and asked if I needed any help stepping over it. I did not. She then asked if I ever get tired of people asking me questions like that.
Good question. In truth I don’t mind at all, and I know these concerns are born of pure charity. I understand that my problems are not only difficult to describe, most of them are not visible. So how are others supposed to know my specific limitations? They can’t. I’m not even always sure. Family here is definitely assuming the worst to insure against possible insensitivity. I appreciate that, and am humbled by it.
But I do wish that I could hide my MS so they wouldn’t fuss so much. I am not comfortable in the role of “the disabled uncle” or “the pitiful one” even though I kind of am. I don’t relish the extra attention, but I kind of need it. I just want to be “David” not “poor David.” I try to say and do things to mitigate concern, but despite my best efforts to be “normal” I can’t hide some things. I am not too nimble on my feet and, no pun intended, but my “godfather voice” shouts “something is really wrong here.”
So, am I bothered by the special concern others show me? No. Do I wish I didn’t need it? An emphatic yes. Does it matter how I feel abut it? No, not really. It is what it is and I’m fortunate to be encircled by so many caring people.
2 comments:
We just wish you were here all the time so we could fuss over you.
Not at first, but the longer you stayed...you mostly seemed normal to me and I realized that you were truly still the same old David.
Post a Comment