Things fall apart; the Matty cannot hold

I have mentioned before that I can deal with Friedreich's ataxia if everything is perfect, or at least a reasonable facsimile. Without that facsimile at least, there's trouble. My body becomes the deaf falcon. (Yeah, Matt can drag up metaphor from high school.)

My wheelchair charger stopped working last night. I am not blameless. It took a beating over the weekend when I drank a smoothie, took a nap, woke up really needing to get to the bathroom, and had to work my way through charger cords and stuff. But really? Sixty-five percent and counting.

Then I noticed that I had no towel when I went to shower this morning. I use a lot of towels because the shower chair blocks the curtain from doing a good job.

No problem, I thought. I'll just call Dad and ask him to get me one. I am not lazy; they are not easily accessible.

But the exhaust fan in the bathroom is so loud -- I did not want to holler over it, so I decided to grab a towel myself. I stood up, holding on, and reached to the towel shelf. I felt one, then my knees buckled.

I quickly recovered and stupidly decided to try again. This time I fell. I was holding on so I was unhurt, and on the good side the noise brought in Dad who helped me up and got the towel.

FA? Not as cool as I make it seem.