…ought to have them strapped to their ears, or something.
I can’t stand Independence Day. Thanks to a loud fireworks show, I spent a good deal of last night first involuntarily twitching every time a loud firework went off, and then later frozen in place for a really long time. The guy I was with said that fireworks were a good autie test: The two of us were the only ones visibly startling, in a large crowd of people who had gathered outside my apartment building to watch the fireworks. I can’t understand, either, why we commemorate a war with a display that has to be absolute hell for veterans. But anyway. At least this time I wasn’t curled up under a desk like I was last year, although that’d have been preferable maybe.
Something I noticed like always, but this time decided I was going to actually mention rather than relegating it to “things I can’t possibly find proper words for”, was that as soon as my body began un-freezing, my mind started freezing. When I freeze, it generally follows a certain progression, where first I can’t move at all, then I can only move in certain locations or directions and not in others (usually roughly the same sequence), and then I can possibly end up re-freezing in different positions, and so forth. I found that I could understand everything fine, and think and plan just fine, as long as I wasn’t moving. But the moment I did move more fluently, then my mind went rigid in the same ways my body had, and then I could only move along some pathways but not others, and there were giant gaps in what I could understand compared to usual. Which still makes me think there must be some kind of tradeoff going on when that happens, either comprehension works or moving works but not both.
By the way, if anyone ever happens to be present when that happens, be aware that the biggest concern is making sure that I’m changing position often enough to avoid injury. It takes awhile to get a pressure sore, but long before one happens, the pain is pretty excruciating. And not being able to move doesn’t mean not being able to feel pain. (It also doesn’t mean not being able to hear you or see you, so waving hands in my face or shouting louder at me is really annoying and unproductive. Nor, unfortunately, does it mean being unable to feel itches. And I could tell all kinds of stories of the sorts of things people have said and done under the assumption that the moment I stopped moving I stopped comprehending. In fact, the opposite is usually true, and if you don’t want to be written about in great detail later, don’t mess with me verbally or physically when you think I can’t understand you. That includes any of you who stand by and watch while people do these things, too.) The seat of my wheelchair is designed to handle a totally immobile person without causing pressure sores, pretty much any other seat is not. Another of the main concerns is to make sure that I’m not in a position that would impair breathing (anything that bends me in a way where I can’t get a full breath of air).
I also realized that it’s been so long since I’ve had a normal (for me) activity level that I had completely forgotten what can happen when I do. I’m finally getting over the asthma crisis — I hope. And the fireworks were undoubtedly only the last straw. Since realizing I could exercise again without breathing problems, I had a few days ago run all over downtown (including uphill) with someone without being pushed at all, and then yesterday, started an exercise routine, gone to the park with my dog, and watched the fireworks show. I’d completely forgotten there were non-breathing-imposed limits on this sort of thing, and that I might want to take things slightly slower. Then I suddenly noticed I couldn’t move. :-P