My socially awkward moment of the day came when I took my trash out. The dumpster rests on a platform that is a standard curb height. I used to just use the dumpster as a balance reference, but when I went out with just my cane, it was not pretty trying to lift the dumpster lid ~and~ throwing in my small bag. So I took my walker the last time and it was much safer (and I don’t know if I looked smooth doing it, but I felt like I did). Sooo, I actually looked forward to using my walker this time (it’s great stability for a single step with no railing AND fits perfectly on the lip of the platform). As I stepped down to cross the parking lot, a new neighbor from an adjacent building was exiting her car, 20 feet from the dumpster. She ended up lifting the lid for me. It was quite kind of her. In the moment, though, it surprised me. I am improving in strength and doing more generally, but before going out, I had consciously gone through my action sequence (like a seasoned athlete), which is how I knew to take the walker. It’s funny, but I was kind of disappointed I didn’t get to play the game I had just prepared for (insert any of numerous sports analogies here)–and I said something to the effect of the walker enabling my independence, and then caught myself and said a sincere thank you instead of rambling when I wasn’t sure whether she had said anything else. The dumpster lid is unwieldy, afterall… and now that I think of it, she very well could have saved me from a fall. I’m not afraid of falling, but I’m well aware of the disastrous immediate and delayed consequences on us folks with neurodegenerative disorders.

This kind of stuff isn’t really new. I’m just writing more to be writing. And if you have Big Brain Academy Wii Degree, and want to compete/assist me with my cognitive rehab, then drop me a comment or email. If you made iþ this far, I figure you are so inclined.