Too many straws

One day 10 or 15 years ago, the stand on my newest action figure, Moishe the Wild Thing, didn't fit. I kind of lost it.

That's the first time I really knew what it meant to be the camel, whose back was broken by one last straw.

It has happened since, to be sure, and the straws are building up these days.

• Mom is not recovered yet. Every time  close my eyes, I see the incident.
• People in my extended family are hurting.
• I got a keyboard recommended by an assistive technology specialist, and it is not making me type faster.
• Work is kind of overwhelming.
• A friend who said they would text didn't.

Chest-protected

I got a chest strap today that is the independent-use one I asked my wheelchair salesman for months ago. The world of durable medical goods is not known for speed.

It buckles in the middle of my chest, and it seems pretty easy to do.

Much to the chagrin of a certain person I live with, I won't wear it all the time. That would weaken my already wimpy trunk.

But I will wear it when food or drink is involved.

I think it'll help.

My life

The morning, I sat down so hard on the toilet that it took my breath away.

A few days ago, I coughed at my desk. Just a little cough but enough to send my face into the desk, unfortunately right where the bumper ended. I put my hand to my face, and it came away bloody.

No matter how much I exercise or try to improve my situation, I am still going to cough and smack my desk or sit too hard on the toilet.

It is unlikely to get better but very likely get worse.

I'm the truck

I watched episodes of The Last Kingdom last night till after 1. It wasn't that it was riveting (it is). I just didn't want to close my eyes, afraid of what I'd see.

But after the episode where someone killed someone (spoiler-free!), I had to sleep, so I shut my eyes.

Unbidden, unwanted but expected, pictures popped in front of me from earlier that evening: Mom in front of my chair, me unable to stop, her getting her legs caught and falling, her on the ground with my chair on her leg, neighbors rushing over, an SUV stopping to help, one neighbor running back into his house for paper towels, the paper towels getting bloody, the guy from the SUV feeling her foot, a cut on a temple, Mom holding her side. They went on and cycled back again.

 I broke Mom. (X-rays say I just bruised her.)

Now, my sister has to help me like Mom does, at least for today.

My sister came into my room this morning and told me Mom was Ok but felt like she'd been hit by a truck.

Mom joked a while back that we'd be in trouble if she ever got hit by a truck.

I never thought I'd be the truck.

Ankle violator

To get my teeth ready for braces (or brackets, as Dr. Ralph called them), I had years of appliances: bionators, expanders, whatever. (Autocorrect wanted to make bionators into violators. That, too.)

The new orthotic for my left ankle is like them -- I need it before the original brace does any good.

I wore it last night without a problem ... with that leg. My right leg was jumpy.

We'll see what happens tonight. I am going to wear a sock because it was fitted with one.