Not this time, Homer

Some people will tell you The Simpsons is no good anymore. I disagree. Not an episode goes by that doesn't leave me laughing out loud ... and it almost killed me.

I saw an episode recently where the family visits the house Marge grew up in. The woman who lives there now invites them in and Marge says something like, Are you sure? The woman replies, As long as I don't have to feed this one, looking at Homer, who stage-whispers to Marge, 'Tell her no deal."

This little exchange had me rolling.

This morning, after I welcomed my sister home by waking her up to help me off the floor, I showered and was getting dressed. You can't wear a seat belt when getting dressed. Normally. that is fine. Normally, though, I don't think of Homer and his whispers.

Today I did.

Fortunately, I reached a bar and a shelf as I started falling out of my chair laughing.

Don't get your hopes up

I have sort of been looking for a new handcycle, so a few months ago I asked my wheelchair guy if he sold any. He pointed me to AmTryke,  a company that sells them online.

I looked and got a little giddy: The company also sells foot-powered cycles and has a bunch of adaptive equipment that seems like it would enable me to ride again. Even better, they work with physical therapists to get you the right trike.

Since then, I have been in touch with the company trying to find a therapist. There are chapters nationwide, but none real near me. And the contacts at the evaluation sites sort of nearby were out of date. The company suggested I contact chapters to find a therapist.

I sent a bunch of emails out, and the chapter in southern Virginia answered and said they could help.

I am trying to keep my expectations low, but ... At least they'll hook me up with a better handcycle, right?

Sorry, polar bears

Whenever I am showering, I think of our director.

Wait, I better explain that real quick.

He tells a story about being on vacation with his extended family, and as he says:

Several years ago, my middle brother's wife was yelling at her teenage son for doing what teenage sons do, staying in the shower for about 40 minutes. After several episodes of yelling at him, she just screamed, "Matthew, polar bears are swimming in the Arctic because of you!"

He goes on to explain why the United States wants to prohibit commercial trade of polar bears, arguing that while a changing climate is the greatest threat to polar bears it is not the only one.

 Whenever I am in  the shower, I think about that story. I am damning polar bears to swim in the Arctic. Even my director's nephew's name is right.

But it is the Friedreich's ataxia really! I can't take fast showers, at least not if I hope to get clean. I could take cool showers, I suppose, but since I am cold most days this seems like a bad idea.

Maybe I could say, "I think of polar bears while showering," but really does that sound less weird?

Ugh

I told Mom Thursday night that it is no fun coming home to a quiet house as I have been doing because my sister and family went to Maine for Christmas.

The next day I set about proving how dangerous it is, too. (Why is everything getting dangerous? )

Every day I have been alone I have had to call Mom for help.

The first day I fell shutting the door. I learned that bathroom tile is harder than slate because I smacked my forehead on the mudroom floor, but it wasn't as bad as when I fell in the shower. Technically it is my fault because I did not fasten my seat belt, thinking I'd be in my chair just briefly.

The next day I called her from the bathroom floor. I had showered and dried off and all. As I transferred to my chair, my knee nicked a piece of the chair and spasmed. Down I went. I called Mom and said, I am fine but might be on the floor when you come up. She just put my slippers on and then I was able to stand OK.

Last night was the worst. I was about to get on my chaise, so I wanted to empty my bladder first. I got to the bathroom in time, but slipped and wound up crouched in front of the toilet. I tried to get back up but succeeded only in trapping my leg between the transfer pole and the wall. Oh, and my bladder decided to empty itself while I was on the floor.

The real trouble was my phone was on the table by my chaise. I did not want to get into my chair since I was unclean. So I backed my chair up, then laid out on the floor and pulled myself using the chair toward the phone. I also pushed with my legs. I finally got to my table and could not reach the phone, so I pulled the table over until the phone slid off. Then I called Mom and suggested she bring Dad because there was a lot to do.

I am pretty sure that left to my own devices, I could have recovered from all of these falls. I had shoes on or nearby. I was near poles or something I could use to stand. But ...

I am guessing I won't fall tonight, in part because Dad is over here watching TV. Not sure if he or Mom thought that up. Can't really blame them.

My Moby Dick, emphasis on dick

The Urinator went from really gross and annoying to somewhat dangerous Friday, and I am not sure what I am going to do.

I went to the bathroom Friday morning, and there was pee on the seat. I had to go, so going downstairs was not an option. Neither was going back to my office for Clorox wipes. So I wiped the pee off with toilet paper and sat down.

It was then that I noticed that he had left a little puddle of pee on the floor and my foot was in it.

When I was finished using the toilet, I learned that pee is kind of slick. I stood to clean myself off ... or tried to. My foot slid on the pee. Luckily I was holding on. I finally managed to clean myself and pull up my boxers. I then transferred to my chair and moved to a dry area to pull up my pants.

I talked to the woman in the office who uses a chair, and she said I have to tell people. I agreed, although I still doubt anything can be done.

I told my boss, and he gave me a harsher note he had already written based on this speech (transcript). It was quite good. He also suggested I talk to the building services manager.

He liked my boss's note but thought it went a little far. He promised, however, to do something.

Not fast enough, though. No new signs appeared yesterday, and every time I used the bathroom I had to clean the seat off.