I am not exactly sure if I know what defines normal daily activities mean anymore?
That slide can happen incrementally, so you don’t notice it. A little less every day, until you are astonished that you can’t recall how long you have been the ‘state’ that you now find yourself in.
I have always been a proud woman. Born with a ‘stiff upper lip’, or perhaps conditioned by British parents how to have one and maintain it, be ever resilient in the face of little choice, and ‘get on with it’, like many people, just simply do.
We handle our lives, without fuss, fanfare or posting about the injustice of our challenges, to Facebook.
Walking is a considered a normal daily activity. For many a given activity that is taken for granted, as something that you can’t lose.
For some of us limited by injury, disability or a chronic health condition, you soon realise that the only real ‘power couple’, that you need to truly focus on, is your feet.
Sure you can equip yourself with aids, walking frames or wheels, but it is far better that these choices be only temporary, while you are recovering.
If you have no choice, then all of us that do, I suggest that we collectively start appreciating the simple freedom that we possess at the end of our legs. I have been dragged into that realisation myself.
For the majority of people, our feet are our main mode of transport.
If you lose mobility, your world shrinks quicker than your dreams of climbing the Himayalas, walking the Kokoda track, trekking through London’s Portobello Road markets or strolling through fallen Japanese cherry blossoms.
You will call victory, managing the weekly grocery shopping without being in crippling pain.