I can vaguely remember Lola's post-stroke days, when we had a couple or so physical therapists helping her get back up and about. It wasn't easy. I can see in her eyes the frustration of not being able to do what she wants. It wasn't easy and sure as hell it ain't pretty as well.
I remember she had to hold on to something just so she could stand up. My arm used to be one of those things. I was young and at times I would just wonder why she couldn't stand on her own. I felt nary a jerk on my arm yet it still seemed as though she needed it. My Lola was both beautiful and strong, but what she had to go through then, it wasn't pretty at all.
I forgot how it felt like to be afraid that something will act up or give up on me. It has been nearly 2 years since I had last felt something quite unwanted. I guess I was due to face another one.
The first of June meant the first in a long while that I was genuinely afraid of the inevitable. I was never the one to dream about living the white-haired, nay, completely bald life. I'm just a tad too realistic to dream about. And my bitterness of Sunshine taking off when she had just eclipsed half a century doesn't help either.
And so the first of June saw me crumble five times. Yes five times. Climbing a few steps, getting down the stairs, alighting the bus, getting off a cab, and standing in our room while i was about to drink water. All five times I imagined seeing the same frustration my Lola had in my very own eyes. I was a wreck. Alright, the first was totally unexpected and that should have given me a hint. But no, even when I totally expected it, the next three failures seemed even more daunting, each after the other. I was confident, though, that once I stand up, I'll be fine. Then the last one hit me. And as I lay down after it, I realized I had been taking these things for granted. My mind needed but one slip to think of something else and these things gave in.
I know I needed to rest. I wasn't really afraid of not being able to make use of these faculties in the near future. I know that since I could still feel down to my toes, they only needed some time to rest. And so I worked from home the following day and yes I was able to stand with a bit of pain. The fear of collapsing was still there but I had more control of them than last night. It was like learning how to stand up then walk and sit down all over. Another day after and I got myself to take a cab rather than risk anything (more like me still being afraid of taking the bus). I was able to get off the cab quite fine and the rest of the day saw me trying to climb up/down a flight whilst holding on to the rail. It was painful and there were times when it felt as though they would give in again. At the end of the day, I still took the bus (yeah, holding tightly on the door while stepping off).
I walked gingerly, albeit slowly, from the bus stop all the way home. It was nice that the sun wasn't in the mood to scorch me that afternoon. I was able to, with every step, absorb each sight that I have taken for granted. It was an improvement, really. And there's the fulfilment of being able to do these things again.
While I was lying after that last crumble, I promised myself that I will not let this happen again - the ME being helpless and causing Bibi more problems. I don't ever want to fail like this again. I have to be strong for my family, and ME being helpless just doesn't cut it. But I know this now, it doesn't hurt to appreciate the little things again while living life in slow mo - and I don't need another part to break down to see that.