Photo Kimchi.sg., CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/&gt;, via Wikimedia Commons

Dear Readers, without wanting to sound like a Pollyanna-ish self-help guru, I have found that there is usually something to be learned from every novel situation. For the past week, I’ve been walking around the pavements of East Finchley, but at a snail’s pace – having found that limping seems to exacerbate my existing lower back problems, I am trying to be mindful of every step, and to try to keep my core muscles engaged. And what an experience it is!

As I walk purposefully down the High Road, I find that I’m like a rock in a stream – people pass me on either side if I just continue on a straight path, at my pace. My instinct would once have been to apologise for being so slow, but I’m past that now – there’s usually room to swerve around me, and if there isn’t people have to wait for a few seconds. There’s also a subtle internal pressure to try to speed up, but I absolutely cannot afford another fall, and to be honest I’m feeling stubborn enough at the moment to hold my ground. It takes every ounce of my concentration to put one foot in front of the other, and then to do it again, so the rest of the world can look after itself. Believe me, this is not a natural state for me to be in, but maybe I’m finally learning that self care isn’t just about ‘pampering’, it’s about staying upright and intact.

It’s made me think about what ‘not being able to keep up’ actually means. I remember speeding along the pavement, sighing at the tourists as they dawdle along, getting frustrated at people walking with their headphones on, tapping at their phones, oblivious to what’s going on around them. But I don’t think I’ve ever knowingly been impatient with someone who clearly had mobility issues. I suppose the key word there is ‘clearly’. How many people have I gotten irritated with when they were very sensibly going at a pace that was right for them? I hope that if/when I’m back to full mobility I shall be a bit more patient and compassionate for the slow walkers amongst us, the dawdlers and the distracted, the wobbly people and the ones who don’t seem to look where they’re going. After all, none of us know what’s going on for other people or what they have happening in their lives.

I have also noticed how hard it can be to walk along at someone else’s pace when it’s much slower than our own. I suppose I had lots of practice with Mum, but it feels very important to walk alongside someone with mobility issues, rather than a few paces ahead, however much of an adjustment this requires. There is nothing worse than feeling as if you’re trailing behind someone, especially at a zebra crossing, where the urge to speed up can feel almost overwhelming. I often used to slow down to walk at the same pace as someone trying to cross with a walker or a cane, and I am so grateful when someone does the same for me now. It feels like a silent statement that we’re all in this together. Plus it does wonders for my long-entrenched abandonment issues, but that would require a whole other blog post.

So, how am I doing? Progress is generally on an upwards trajectory, and I”m trying to gently push the envelope of what I can do without tearing it completely (metaphor alert). Next week is a positive flurry of physiotherapist appointments, wound checks and a bone density scan. Plus, I was at the GP yesterday to try to get some answers as to why I keep falling over. My worry is peripheral neuropathy, which my mother had – I checked it out a few years ago, and I don’t have diabetes (the number one cause of the problem) or any of the vitamin deficiencies that can also cause it. My GP did a lot of reflex tests, and there is definitely loss of feeling in both feet, so he’s sending me off for ‘some more exotic blood tests’. Hooray! But getting some answers would be a good thing, I think. Anyone else out there with peripheral neuropathy? It seems like one of those complaints with a wide variety of causes, and not that many cures. Do share!