falls.

I am not sure why I use to take photos after a fall. I have a lot of them. I fell quite a bit. There was a time that the staff at the ER knew me by name and loved it when Delsie would visit. There were a lot of ER visits. Staples, X-rays, broken bones, bruising...it comes with the territory. It accompanies the diagnosis of FA. I hate it. But at the same time, I marvel at the resilience of my body. I always seem to bounce back. My body does at least. Kind of. The progression of this disability has been so gradual. The subtle loss of things is tormenting.
I had forgotten what it feels like to feel stable. Stable enough to get out of bed without falling. The balance to transfer in the bathroom without crashing on the bathroom tile. The ability to not have to think about the placement of my feet or the formation of words are foreign to me. Life was exhausting. I felt like I would be a "shut-in" in my 30's.
How quickly we adapt to things. After I fell in the bathroom yesterday, I was acutely aware of how my body was improving, slowly yet gradual. The war wound from yesterdays fall was minimal. It won't be noticed by those who pass. But I cried. I always do after a fall. Except the wailing was different. Normally my screams are motivated by utter despair, anger and a feeling of hopelessness. Followed by a towel to wipe off the blood or ice pack to soothe the broken bones. The fall yesterday came with screams and plenty of tears. But this time, my crying was filled with hope. And the only desperation I felt was the urgency to get back on the drug. There is hope. I can feel it. Physically and emotionally.