Write On!

              I could put more weight on my feet and lose some weight from my body.
I explored assisted living, as I require assistance to get my socks on
and off. There are places in Edmonton and Calgary, but at a price and with
time restrictions. I was determined to swim. No question. But how to get out of
the pool?
In February we returned to the Sundre pool. I said I would fall into the
pool and worry about getting out later. This I did and enjoyed a half hour of
luxury, stretching and walking in the water. Then it was time to exit. My helpers
were so enthusiastic, they pulled me out of the pool and I went down on my
knees. With the kind help of five bystanders, I was put upright and teetered
embarrassedly off on my walker back to the dressing room.
My husband and I discussed ways and means to assist my exit from
the pool. After much discussion, crafting of designs and exploring materials to
use, we came, I thought, to a mutual conclusion of just how the apparatus
should work, and what it looked like.
The management and staff of the Sundre Pool were considerate, kind
and helpful. They were most supportive of the idea, suggesting the appropriate
times I could use the pool and agreeing to store the ladder at the complex
between swims. My initial embarrassment and clumsy efforts were minimized
as the staff assisted my efforts to facilitate the swim.
Several days later my husband proudly brought his creation into the
house and I burst into tears. We had extensively discussed the project, and
my mind had locked onto my interpretation of the required aid. This ladder he
put in front of me was so different from what I had anticipated. My mind had
created something smaller and more manageable for me.
Like many handicapped persons, I longed to be independent. To be
able to lift the aid in and out of the pool myself. That was what I had imagined.
Just a little right angled apparatus allowing me to lift myself out of the pool.
This ladder, the real thing, was built to sit on the floor of the pool, and hook
over the handrails. It would require someone to set it up in the pool before I
could use it. My mind was locked onto my interpretation of what was needed.
This was not what I had envisioned. Not what I wanted! My mind
exploded in so many different directions. How could my husband's ideas and
mine be so far apart when we had spent so much time exploring the situation?
How could he not know what I wanted? This would not make me independent.
I would still need an assistant. Giving up my idea of independence was a
struggle, although the reality of my present situation is that I need help.
My husband is also growing older, and is some years older than me.
He had taken time and effort to achieve the results he perceived were
required. I wanted to swim. To swim or not to swim was not the question. How
to get out of the pool was. He wanted to help me get out of the pool, and to
that end, created the necessary aid. So why was I so distressed?
The older I get, the more stiff and stubborn my thought patterns seem
to be. Like the stiff, unworkable joints of my body, my mind refused to work, to
give up my idea of what I needed. I could not make a quick shift to