I am really quick on my feet (pun intended) when it comes to excuses. It's a skill I honed as a teenager. Mom: 'What is this pack of cigarettes doing in your purse?" Me: "They are not mine! Judy asked me to keep them so her Mom wouldn't find them." Mom: "Why does the car smell like smoke?" Me: "Some boys were leaning in the window at the drive-in--I think one of them smoked."
I made excuses with such conviction, even I almost believed them. So falling down (a lot), dropping things, and any number of other odd physical happenings were easily dismissed with excuses. If I went jogging and got blurred vision after only a mile, I wasn't drinking enough water. If I tripped and fell over a line in the sidewalk, I wasn't paying attention. If I woke up in the middle of the night with the room spinning around... well that wasn't quite as easy to dismiss, but I did. Hey it was gone in the morning, why dwell on it. If my foot went to sleep (that tingling sensation) and wouldn't wake up...oh well... must be poor circulation...and it doesn't hurt...it will go away eventually...and if it doesn't --so what.
And if I was careful, no one would even notice the limp--unless I had a glass of wine in my hand. I was at an art opening one evening--had just arrived minutes before and picked up a glass of wine. I walked by an acquaintance who said to me, "don't you think you've had enough, Meredy?--you're staggering." --really--he said that!
That was pretty good evidence that I wasn't finished with diagnosing the limp. So in March, 1999 at an Easter Brunch Party, my cousin Janet said enough is enough. Go to Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville and find out whats going on. It had been more than 6 years spent in excuses and denial...it was time...I was 50 years old.
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