My Life- A Journey, With Ataxia Along For The Ride

A Fantastic blog by Jason Wolfer (I met Jason at the National Ataxia Foundation conference 2017 in San Antonio )

And Then I Went On To Say…

After posting my last blog, which was a compilation of some previous quotes and pictures from previous writings, I decided to do a follow up. This blog contains more samples of things that I wrote in previous blogs, and again, I am including some pictures that I had used in some of those past writings. Hope you enjoy…


There have been times when I will get the sudden impression that I can run, or at least jog slowly. I used to be a runner, it shouldn’t be too hard, my leg muscles should remember this and know what to do, right? Uh, yeah, they’re like, “What’s this thing called…running? Nope, sorry, don’t believe we’ve ever heard of it before or ever had the pleasure.”

 I suppose it is a good thing that I never aspired to run off with the circus as a kid, although I probably could have had a lucrative career as Clumsy The Clown, where everything I try ends up in an epic comedic disaster.

 For example, is it so crazy to want to simply get out of bed at three a.m. to check the plumbing in the bathroom without the drama of shaky legs, and feeling like I am trying to stay on my feet in a ninety-mile an hour cross wind? 

 Apparently, there is a smaller office behind the main mind's office that is a control room of sorts. The way it was explained to me is that the job of this little office is to translate orders from the main office, and then to send them out as mandates to the other departments. The problem that has developed is that the person in charge of the little office and ensuring that it runs smoothly has become unstable and highly unreliable. He calls in sick half the time, and when he does show up....well, he's not all there if you know what I mean. The lights are on but nobody's home. And I can't fire him. Believe me, I've looked into it but he 's got some kind of iron-clad contract. I don't know, it all seems like internal politics to me. 

I never received any external summons, but thirteen years ago at the age of thirty-eight, I did accept delivery of an internal call to a version of Mission Impossible, named Ataxia Impossible. Actually, I didn't so much as accept the delivery as I had it thrust upon me, and over these last few years, it has been like watching a movie.   

 Cords are another thing that I have issues with.  If they are not jumping up off the floor to try and trip me as I am walking by, or stepping over them, they are forever wrapping themselves around my ankles. I really don't understand their problem because I treat them nicely. I never harshly yank them out of the wall sockets or use them for a quick pick-up game of jump rope. 

 The Venetian Stairs.- Stairways everywhere, in every part of the world, would be required to be fitted to have this capability. The idea would be that every stairway would have a rod at the top and one at the bottom that could be accessed by a handicapped person and twisted so that the stairs would fold flat, like window shades, and become a ramp. Not a bad idea, huh? There should be an official watch group set up to go around and identify all the public hazards that are caused by stairs. Maybe I should form a group, named, Be Aware, Don't Forget Ataxians Living Life, or B.A.D. F.A.L.L. for short.