That Awkward Moment When Your Body Betrays You

I have learned in life that there are going to be times when your body betrays you.  There are going to be those awkward moments when you want it to do something, but it decides that it's just not having any part of your plans.  Depending on what it is that you do in life, you may experience this betrayal in various ways, but at some point you will experience it.  I'm sure that it has to be a universal truth.  

I'm going to share with you a few laughable moments where my body has betrayed me.  

To begin, you need context.  I have Cerebral Palsy.  This has taught me that my body is extremely creative in coming up with new ways to make my life interesting.  I've learned that when I encounter new people, it's probably one of the first things that I should tell them...you know, get the elephant out of the room.  I've also learned that it's fun if you can do it in such a way as to surprise them, like saying "I'm not smashed right now, I just have Cerebral Palsy."  Basically, it's not going to affect your life much if you know me.  If you're walking with me somewhere and we encounter stairs, it's polite that you offer me the side with the handrail...or if there is no handrail and I know you well, a shoulder or arm to use as one is also appreciated.  If you're my best friend and you know how to read me, you're also allowed to offer me help if you see that my body is in the process of betraying me.  Other than that, you're good.  

One of the particularly annoying (and sometimes hysterical) "symptoms" (side-effects?  I don't know.) of CP is what I call "shaky hands".  This means that my hands (and actually my entire body but it's only visible in my hands really) trembles...sometimes not much, but sometimes I could make Jiffy Pop like a pro on the stove without even trying.

These stories are about how my body betrayed me with the "shaky hands".  (By the way, it's more than OK to laugh...I laugh about it.)

1.  Please don't fail me, I promise I passed kindergarten:

So the problem with shaky hands is that they're completely unpredictable and can strike at any moment.  Usually their favorite moments are precisely when you're going to be doing something where someone is going to notice that you're uncontrollably shaking...or that you can't perform fine motor skills.  

You can imagine, then, the horror I experienced while I'm defending the first chapter of my dissertation and they get started...and I was supposed to take notes.

I could barely hold a pencil, much less imagine how I was going to write, but I was determined.  I summoned up all my will and told my hand to behave.  I told it that we were going to write words on the paper.  In fact, I put so much energy to talking to my hand, that I could hardly pay attention to what anyone was saying.  I managed to scribble out some illegible words, and then I noticed my director just staring at me...or rather at my hand.  Great.  That helps.

I realized how ridiculous this must look.  I have written a chapter that four great academic minds are complimenting and I cannot write any better than a one year old.  I panicked...were they going to fail me because I appeared to lack the basic skills of a small child?  What were they thinking?  At first I considered taking notes with my mouth.  I've never tried to write with my mouth before, but it couldn't have been any worse or looked any more bizarre to them than what was taking place.

Finally, I pretended that I was done taking notes.  I put the pencil down, put my hands in my lap, and tried to avoid using them for the rest of the meeting.  Luckily they didn't fail me just because of my lack of motor skills...but I'm sure it gave them something to talk about.

2.  I love Chinese food!

I love Chinese food, especially in leftover form.  It's way better as a leftover than it is when you first get it, kind of like Italian food.  

One day a friend of mine is visiting and we're sitting down to have Chinese food.  This friend, luckily, was well seasoned to shaky hands and therefore they didn't need any explanation as to why my hands were shaking.  

I pick up my fork, dig into my rice, and before the fork can make it to my mouth, all the rice had been shaken off.  So for a little while I ate the chicken.  I could stab that.  

But it made me sad, because I loved the rice most of all and really wanted it.  So then I got a great idea.  A spoon!  I was so thrilled because even though some of the rice shook off the spoon, a lot of it made it my mouth.  

But then there was another problem...the chicken, when scooped up on the spoon inevitably shook off...

No problem.  Just use both.  Luckily my friend didn't bat an eye at the fact that I ate the rest of my meal alternating between a fork and a spoon.  She's lucky that worked because I was seriously considering just going at it pig trough style...or maybe going full caveman and eating it all with my hands.  

And people wonder why I don't know how to use chopsticks...

(Yes, I'm fully aware that the silverware pictured looks like it got run over, but that's the best I could do.)

3.  Sometimes you just need coffee:

I really need coffee in the morning.  I am not human until I've had it.  The problem is that with shaky hands, doing things like pouring liquid from one container to another or even moving cups/bowls full of liquid can be pretty messy...extremely messy in fact.

Getting coffee grounds from the jar to the coffee cup is no exception to this.  They go everywhere. I've been grumpy enough in the morning that I've actually considered just taking the coffee jar and pouring it directly into my cup...no measuring, nothing.  It would be the best plan...but the coffee would probably kill me.  

So here's how it goes on a typical shaky hands morning.  I put the coffee cup on the counter and we have a staring match.  I get a spoon and the jar out.  First I'll try to be all cool about it and put the spoon in the jar and then very, very carefully...shake coffee grounds all over the counter.  I'll usually do that once or twice.

Then there's another tactic:  The quick transfer.  This one is great.  This is where you hover the jar over the coffee cup with the idea that you can quickly remove the spoon and drop the grounds directly into the cup.  It's a good idea.  Usually it turns out more along the lines of remove the spoon, drop most of the crystals all around the cup, and get a little into the cup.

If you repeat this practice enough, though, you'll eventually get enough in the cup...and you'll have a great big mess to clean up...after you finish your coffee of course.  

So there you have it.  When you're life fails you, and it will happen at some point if it hasn't happened yet, as  annoying as it may be, try to laugh at it and figure out an alternative.  Sometimes you have to be very creative, but eventually you'll figure out some way around it.  

The Time I Learned I'd Never Climb Mount Everest

I am not accustomed to snow.  Rather, I should say that I wasn't accustomed to snow, I've had a lot of lessons about it since moving to a place where I'm often forced to deal with it for more than one or two days a year and in more copious quantities than the light dustings I saw as a kid.

Let me tell you a little about snow.  

When I was a kid, I thought it was awesome.  I was wrong.  Snow is not awesome.  It's about the most non-awesome thing that exists, second only to ice.  Unfortunately the two go hand in hand, making them almost the same thing in my mind.

It's pretty when it's falling.  It's pretty in the morning, when you look at the blanket of it covering the ground, untouched.  Then it ceases to be pretty.  It's just dirty, messy, nastiness that gets trampled down and refreezes to form ice.

If I'm at home with my pajamas, my couch, and Gus, this is fine.  However, on days that I have to work, I despise snow.  

So here's a little adventure I had the first time it snowed here.  It was also the first time that I really, truly accepted the fact that I would never even attempt to climb Mount Everest.

Outside my apartment, leading up to the main road that I need to get on in order to get to work, there is a sidewalk that runs up a sloping hill.  It's not that bad of a hill on a regular basis.  It's actually a nice little hill.  Here's what it looks like normally:

(Ok, so maybe there aren't really any happy flowers...it's actually lined with dog poo and pieces of people's cars who have misjudged if it was their turn to go or not...but the flowers are nicer.)

I realized, however, that my happy little hill has a dark side when it's covered in a blanket of snow and ice.  The first morning that I had to walk to school after a ridiculous (in my opinion) snowfall, I wasn't too sure about things.  I toddled across the parking lot and made my way to the sidewalk.  I looked up the little hill that I had climbed so many times before.  Except now it wasn't a happy little hill.  Now it looked more like this:

Now that the little hill was covered in ice, and taking into consideration that I had experienced enough difficulty toddling over the flat parking lot, this was a major obstacle.

But I had to get to work...so I started up the little hill.  And then something strange happened...I slid back down.  I realized this wasn't going to be easy at all.  I started up the little hill again, a little faster and leaning forward.  

And I slid back down.

Third time's a charm, right?  So I started up again, a little faster and leaning so far forward that Icould have almost been crawling up the hill (and I was considering that).  I reached my salvation.  A guide wire coming down from one of the electrical poles, and I clung to it.  

So here I was, clinging to the guide wire.  If I let go, I was going to slide back down the hill.  For me, that wasn't an option.  I realized, however, that going forward wasn't a choice that was mine to make either.  So I just stayed there...at first feeling very, very sad and sorry for myself.  I couldn't go up and I didn't want to go down and the stupid snow had left me with no other option than to stay there, feeling pathetic, and hanging from that guide wire like a fish on a line.

I wasn't really sure how long I could stay there, though.  I did have to get to work eventually.  I was going to have to solve this problem because hanging on the guide wire was not going to get me anywhere in life.  

Then I realized how nice and salted the roads were.  There was hardly any snow at all on them...it was nothing like the treacherous sidewalk.  Finally, I made a decision.  I let go of my precious wire and slid backwards down the hill, like I had predicted I would do.  I toddled off the sidewalk and into the road.  Bingo!  I could walk up the road!

And I did.  And to anyone who honked at me, I do not apologize for any gestures you may have found offensive.  When they learn to salt the sidewalks as generously as they do the road, I'll consider using them when it snows.

I know now, though, that if I could not climb my little hill in the snow, there's absolutely nothing in me that would even DREAM of trying to climb Mount Everest.