Helping (is) Out

 

A recent event around the My Odd Sock household brought to light another ugly reason to despise multiple sclerosis.

You see, I can’t do much to help.  

Lending a hand is like having all thumbs.

Pitching-in is more of pitching-out.

Over time, I have learned it is best to back-up and stay out of the way.

 

And that’s not my character.  I loathe laziness.  I always want to do more than my share.  

Over and above.

But MS has strip-mined my balance, strength & endurance to the point of being a bump on a log.

 

No, that’s a Trump on a stump.

I said bump on a log.

Whatever.

 

Hosting a party, get-together or gathering becomes frantic chaos for my wife while I bask in the warm glow of ineptitude.

 

 

With nothing better to do, I should don a blue vest and be a greeter at the door.

“Welcome to Walmart.  Drinks in the fridge.  Napkins on the table.  Help yourself.  Wipe your feet, kid.”

 

 

 

Forced to sit or lean, I take up too much space in our small kitchen to do dishes. 

Using canes makes it difficult to help clear-away trash.

Meanwhile, noise & commotion turns thoughts to pudding and speech to skin of said pudding.

 

I hate to play the MS card once again, but I totally place my ill feelings on this disease.

How does one correct it?

It is best to simply accept it.  Accept your new limitations.  Swallow your pride.  Bite your tongue.  And find others ways to do your part.

Hmm, easier said than done, right?

Yeah, I hear you.  I’m right there with you…..at the front door.

“Welcome to Walmart.  Food in the kitchen.  Don’t touch that, kid.”