It’s not my strength in spirit, or desire to help others that has kept me alive far longer than many expected. I am stubborn and I refuse to accept my limitations because I have no patience for assistive devices that move like molasses. Yes, I do realize how childish that sounds after typing it, but I’m okay with it. When I had to stay off of my foot for forty-five days, I used scooter at Target. I picked up everything in that stupid front basket and limped to the cash register, and I still moved faster than that scooter.
People tell me all the time how strong they think I am. They go on about how I continue to live life bravely. I’m not strong. I’m not brave. I am deep in denial, and I want to look good. Does that make me a shallow person? Look deep into my eyes. Aren’t they gorgeous?
Sure, it used to bother me that I can’t wear the four inch heals everyone else gets to wear, then I discovered shorts with Ugg Boots. I know, it sounds weird. And the shorts aren’t even that short. But it’s a great way to keep my body temperature under control, which is important if you have Raynaud’s. And it doesn’t hurt that Ugg Boots look good on me.
The love I feel for my son and the thought of dying too young if scleroderma hardens my body sure is sad, but that’s not motivating enough to get me to exercise. But do you know what is? It is the remote possibility my son might have to see me ride a Rascal Scooter in Target, with an oxygen tank wearing velcro shoes. Sure, I want to be around for my son, but I want to be around for my son and have an ass so perfect, one could bounce a quarter off of it. Is that wrong?