I am beginning to get worried by my legs.

Often over the past month, I’ve had a lot of trouble standing up. I can stand, that’s not the problem really. It’s more being able to stay standing.

I have to use something to pull myself up so that I can get in that standing position, so that I can pull myself upright. I can feel my legs spasming at the very thought, the very notion and I know that no matter what I do they will protest.

Loudly.

Once I am standing, I feel as if I’m going to fall, as if I am falling forward. I imagine the ground rushing up to meet me, hard and fast like a one night stand.

It frightens me a lot more than I care to admit that I’m losing control over my body. I once thought that if I just kept going, just kept going, like that little engine that chugged so bravely up that hill, that I would be okay.

That everything would be fine.

Part of dealing with a disability is to ignore it, I think. To pretend that it doesn’t exist and prove others wrong by doing the opposite of what they say. According to doctors and therapists I’ve had, I’m supposed to be in a wheel chair.

I will not let them put me in one.

But I wonder if, to some degree, they were right when they said that there would come a time where I could not walk. I do not want such a time to visit me, I want it to stay as far away from me as possible, if you please.

I know that my legs are not as strong as they once were, that the spasms are happening more frequently, that I’m less and less comfortable, no matter what I do. I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t ignore it anymore, where the pain I was so blithely able to push away is now fighting me with a vengeance.

I am not going down without a fight, however. I refuse. I won’t let it happen.

All I have to do is take things one day at a time, one step at a time and hope, hope, hope that the next step I take won’t be as painful as the one before.