Even a service dog's poops are important

In hindsight, I totally should have listened to Claren's poop.

No, of course the poop didn't talk, are you crazy? It was metaphorical ... well, real poop, metaphorical talk.

I went to the first of several physical therapy appointments to help get my legs to work better, or at least to try. Claren had no interest in being excused in the 15 minutes we were outside in our yard, but the little circle of grass by the flagpole in front of Virginia Hospital Center apparently smelled just right.

After I had stretched out to nab the flagpole poop -- there was no curbcut up to the grass -- I made it o the appointment. Mom had dropped me off in front of the hospital, gone and parked, and she still beat me there. Partly because of the poop, partly because I dropped my folder with medical info outside the honkin' big revolving door. Luckily, a woman grabbed it and brought it in.

The appointment was just an eval, but I think we have a plan. They got to see how wussy my legs are, and they also seemed surprised by how much I fall.

After the appointment, I went to work. That was OK until the afternoon when I went to the bathroom. I was sitting in my chair afterward and I fell forward, maybe I coughed, I forget. I was kept from hitting the ground by my head, which smacked into the stall wall.

I kept trying to stand. I had hold of a grab bar and I put my feet under and pushed. But instead of rising up, my feet bent at the ankles and my feet flopped over.

I am glad no one came in because I was on the floor for a while. I started thinking of the Springsteen song Wreck on the Highway, and wondered if I would be calling out "Mister, won't you help me please?"

Luckily, I got up eventually, just in time to go to a meeting on our company restructuring, which was kind of pointless since I hear poorly at meetings and couldn't sit up front because it was held in the cursed auditorium that has stairs to the front.

One thing a lot of people may not realize is how tiring and hard it is to try to listen when your ears are really not up to the task. My head was pounding and I was so tired. Of course, I then had to go do the work I missed while I was at the meeting.

My ears do work better on metaphorical talk. In case you are wondering, the poop was screaming "GO BACK TO BED!"