Put me Down with Dignity.

Put me down with dignity.

I left the house today. After many years of agoraphobia I just decided I was going into the town centre. I got the bus, faltering for a moment with juggling my walking stick with my handbag. The disabled seats were taken up by two young men, I didn't argue, what was the point? Getting off the bus I nearly fell, my knee locked as it does so often, I have cartilage problems, but you don't want to know all about that. Neither do I, I just wish it would all go away, but I'm stuck with it.

Yes, I know that people are starving, homeless and have lost many of their family. I care; I donate from my meagre benefits every time a tragedy strikes in some corner of the world. I have a roof over my head for now, but that could soon change when I can't pay my credit card bill. Of course I used it unwisely, I needed to eat, maybe I could done the world a favour and elected to starve. But I could not subject my two cats to do the same or to be put down.
Handy phrase that one, it should apply to me as well'. They shoot horses don't they? '

Before I left the house I used my catheter, yes, I have bladder problems as well. They aren't very discreet, but it's the NHS who decides what sort you get. I don't normally leave the house, so the bulky bags are what I get. Try stuffing those in your handbag?

I digress, on to my expedition in the great unknown. I don't recognise anything, the whole town centre has changed. Maybe it's been longer than I thought, or maybe I am truly out of my skull!

It's hot and I'm feeling it. Too many years of sunbathing have taken its toll on my skin. Now I cover up my legs and arms. A quick glimpse of reflection catches me unawares, is that really me? Tough shit kiddo, yes its you, a circus freak, the great white whale. Actually that's not true, whales are graceful, not like me who manages to get knocked about and now my bloody walking stick is on the floor. Kids in love are not going to notice some old biddy with her walking stick.

Maybe this has been a big mistake, I'm not fit to be out on my own, but I wanted to be normal for a short while. I walk unsteadily to the main shopping centre, but its being renovated and its closed. What do I do now? I wanted some craft materials, what if the other shop has closed? My head starts to spin and I want to run and get the taxi home, but if I go home with empty arms, what have I achieved? It could take another few years before I step out of my front door again.

One foot in front of the other, that's the way to do it. Don't think of distances or of arriving and finding it closed. Be strong be positive, that's what the shrinks would say. Fuck them! Every step, every minute is sheer agony. I'd like to wire them up and get an image of how I feel.

The shop is open and in relief I start to babble. Shit! I'm articulate; I can spout off lines from the plays of Shakespeare, quote Byron and Shelley. Name at least 70% of all Britain's' kings, so why am I talking like a complete moron? Is this what I've finally become; a woman who prices bits of felt and lace to make her own cards?

I make it to the bus stop; I have my disabled pass and can't afford a taxi. I stare into space while a couple of kids take up all the waiting seats. I could get annoyed, I could tell them to respect an older person, but I'm too worn out and in my heart I know I'm giving up again.

My house is my sanctuary from the pain of being nothing in a world where once I was something important. As I wearily descend the steps, I wonder if I will ever truly live again?
Walking up the road I see a woman who looks the spitting image of my mother before the long slow decline of Parkinson's disease and just for a moment I remember her strength and pride. I want to be like her, but I don't want to become senile and sink into an everlasting decay, maybe its not too long before I say, 'put me down with dignity.'