Dear loyal readers,
There seems to be an inexplicable force in the universe—possibly the same one responsible for tangled headphones and disappearing socks—that prevents me from writing monthly blogs as intended. But fear not! The last 60 days have been packed with excitement, progress, and a few laugh-worthy moments that I just know you’re dying to hear about. So let’s dive in, shall we?
March kicked off with a visit to the eye doctor.
Good news: everything is stable. Great news: my doctor managed to swap out the new meds (which my body apparently hated with the fiery passion of a thousand suns) for the trusty old brand. The result? My overdramatic body finally stopped throwing tantrums. Hurah!
Remember that skill I was revisiting when I wrote my last soap opera—uh, blog?
Well, I’ve been spending a lot more time perfecting it. While my blog skills have been MIA, my white cane skills have given me a sense of independence. Sort of.
It started with a new diet and some weight loss, which helped me move around a bit more. This led to me calling in the experts to help me revisit my cane techniques. My goal? To learn a few short, familiar, low-stimulation routes in my area. These paths come with strategic benches, because just being able to move doesn’t make me a ninja. Or a dragon. Why can’t I be a dragon?
Apparently, white cane skills work on the same principle as riding a bike—once you learn, you don’t forget. You just need to shake off the rust. And while my memory has more holes than SpongeBob’s Square Pants, I’ve memorized those routes and can now walk them solo. With generous use of those sitting spots, of course.
But no, I haven’t ditched my wheelchair.
It’s still my go-to for longer outings or days that involve more walking than I signed up for. Plus, winter is my Kryptonite. A white cane is great, but sadly, it doesn’t have lightsaber powers. (Missed opportunity, really.)
My diet isn’t just making me happy—it’s making the diabetes nurse grin like a tortoise who just found a shortcut.
My sugar levels are looking good—better than last time, even. While I still need to stay on medication to keep my liver from acting like Stitch on a bad day, I’m proud of my progress. My secret weapon? The diet. Shhh. Don’t tell anyone!
To round out March, we visited a convention for the disabled and visually impaired.
Tons of organizations were there showing off gadgets and gizmos aplenty. I saw everything from musical cushions (yes, really) to hybrid rollators that turn into wheelchairs. I learned how to withdraw money from an ATM while blind—headphones make them talk! I even joined a workshop on using AI, and walked away with some practical goodies like filter glasses, spare cane tips, and—wait for it—a weighted plushie.
Actually, two weighted plushies. I got a cat for myself and Jessy got a dog. These cuddly companions are designed for pressure therapy and help reduce pain and anxiety. They’re soft, fluffy, and very judgy when you sit on their couch.
April 1st was no joke.
The pain I’d been dealing with for the last couple of months decided it wasn’t leaving on its own. So I had a procedure involving needles—while awake. Naturally, this terrified the bajeebees out of me. But in the end, it wasn’t nearly as bad as expected. Healing may take six weeks, but I’m already noticing improvements.
One condition for using my white cane solo was wearing my hearing aid.
Now, I have a love-hate relationship with the thing. It feels like a “fix” to some people, which I resent—but I get it. While outside, it helps with safety. Mine’s old and once got lost in a rainstorm, so it’s basically the soggy sidekick in this superhero duo.
So, I visited the hearing specialist. A beep test surprised me: turns out you can recover from long COVID—at least where your ears are concerned! Unfortunately, I still have CRS. That’s the kind of glitch you just learn to live with. A new hearing aid has been ordered—hopefully one that makes my ear less like a decorative doorknob.
Life in between?
I’ve been going to the day center, doing some gaming and streaming, and keeping up with Skype (or Teams… but let’s not open that can of digital worms) chats with Dad. I’ve even carved out time to read books!
And that, dear readers, brings us to the end of an eventful 60-day rollercoaster—and the beginning of… well, who knows how long until I write another blog. Shall we aim for 30 days this time? Just pretend to believe me.
Until next time, stay fabulous.
CRS Life 