Falling Down | Rachel McDonnell

There used to be a television commercial for a company called Life Alert in which an older woman was on the floor crying out, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”  While this scenario isn’t actually funny it became fodder for comedy skits and, back then, I remember being with my teenage friends and mocking this ancient lady’s predicament. The commercial was campy and poorly done and the actual mechanics of getting up off the floor seemed pretty simple for someone not yet old enough to drink alcohol.

It isn’t so funny anymore. After living with multiple sclerosis for over 10 years - getting up off the floor can be very, very, very hard.

I’ve fallen many times over the last few years. I’ve called my husband at work and had him have to drive twenty miles to come help me up. If I hadn’t been able to reach the phone, I would have simply waited… and waited… and waited. My funny MS symptoms and being off balance and out of shape make it easy to fall and impossible to get up.

“I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” isn’t funny. Being in your early 40s makes it seem even worse. At least the lady in the commercial had a good, long run before this indignity struck her. My family worried, I worried, and I figured it was probably time to see what these Life Alert systems cost.

Since beginning personal training with Asghar, he’s worked on two fronts with me. Targeting the muscles that are weak and exacerbate what is physically wrong is one front. He also has insight into the mental games that contribute to and distract from physical wellness. He has given me the tools to stop panicking and the strength to get myself up.

A few days ago, I slipped in the kitchen and landed on my butt. I was unhurt but feeling the familiar dread of being “stuck.” But, I knew I was physically stronger than I was a month ago. I also heard Oscar’s admonition that the “body follows the mind.” It was time for my head to start barking orders. I had the power to get up. I had nurtured the physical over the last month and it was time to have a little faith I could now manage something that used to be impossible. Asghar speaks in grander language than I do. He’d say I have the “inner power and to see the action in my mind and the true potential I have in myself.”

At that moment on the floor I did think of Asghar’s insight, but my self-talk was more along the lines of “get your fool ass up - you aren’t that wimpy!”

I am proud to say I did, in fact, get my fool ass up. I didn’t need an ambulance, a worried neighbor, or a Life Alert crew to do it. I visualized a plan I had confidence in and executed it. I felt the returning strength in my muscles and they ponied up the service I asked them to give me.

I felt so tricky, so flushed with my victory that I sent texts to Asghar, my husband John and everyone else I could think of. (I may have heard a distant “woohoo!” from Asghar as he read the text… Asghar isn’t exactly what you would call soft-spoken.) Being able to say, “I’ve fallen and I got right up” was such a milestone, such an accomplishment that it is difficult to describe the feeling. You need to have spent time waiting helplessly for assistance to arrive to really savor the sense of independence and freedom such a thing can provide.

Not everyone can relate to my situation, but many of us have something we feel physically “stuck” about – something we once did effortlessly that we can no longer do. Maybe it is lifting a child, playing eighteen holes of golf, playing basketball, walking distances, etc.

If you think differently about it, and believe differently about it, well, you never know what you are capable of.

“I’ve fallen and I got myself up!”

Head Up | Rachel McDonnell

I first met Asghar and Susanna when I was referred to them to do the website and signage for Asghar’s new fitness studio. As someone who has dealt with multiple sclerosis and primarily rolls around in a wheelchair, I’m not a frequent visitor to gyms of any kind. (Active avoidance may best describe my gym/exercise strategy) But, in I rolled to the Fitness Loft, ready to give this charming fitness studio my best “online” workout. If I wasn’t a fitness queen myself, I could certainly conjure and create an image of one for this business.

Asghar wasted no time turning the focus from the cyber-world to the physical He’s a gracious host who makes a mean cup of tea and makes you feel right at home. Before I know it, I’m eating a banana and talking about my MS. Warning: watch out when you snack at the Fitness Loft. Invariably, Asghar takes those happy, healthy calories back out of you in the form of exercise.

The physical world, what a body can do and feel and achieve, was something I largely ignored. From my point of view, my MS had chipped away at my ability. I went from a cane, to two canes, to a walker, to a lot of time in a wheelchair as MS claimed my balance, stamina and muscle control.

I made the comment I sort of lived from the “head up.” I had a certain flippant pride in saying it. My body may be out of control, but I was making the most of it - staying busy and intellectually engaged while ignoring the constant noise of my body.

What I didn’t quite expect was the sincere look of absolute sadness and horror my sarcasm yielded from Asghar. It took me back and made me start to think about the real meaning my attitude signaled to others (as well as myself).

I had accepted and acclimated to disintegration. I had fought my MS, sure. I had pushed and plodded and struggled for over 10 years. But I think I always expected that MS would win. I wanted a strategy for keeping what ground I could, but didn’t really think about an offensive strategy. I was too....tired...too...disabled...too...deep in disease to expect much. My neurologist had once said “MS won’t kill you, but it is a progressive disease.”

And progressive it was; sapping my energy, my ability and progressively making my world smaller and smaller. My physical body had become a series of setbacks. Falls, a broken nose, being stuck, being in pain, being inexorably more limited by the disease.

Asghar didn’t buy my “head’s up” philosophy. As a fitness trainer, this made sense. His business was the mind and body working together and creating a whole. But I wasn’t someone who needed to simply get in shape or lose weight, I was someone who had a hard time getting out of a chair.  I was someone stuck in a body that came with disappointment, pain, and a large cache of drugs just to make it through the day.

When Asghar said “he didn’t see disability, he sees ability,” I was naturally skeptical, but I also realized I hadn’t taken inventory of my actual ability in a long time. It felt good to look at what I had rather than focus on what I’d lost.

I’ll write more about what I’m learning. I’m adding to my list of “abilities” all the time. For someone who hates (and doesn’t really get) sports analogies - I’m on offense. I am punching and kicking (well, sort of kicking) the “dis” ability out of my way. I can improve. I am improving. I didn’t know I could until I tried.

I thought about including a photo, but the best way to get this started is to take a picture of my feet. Long ignored, frequently cursed and the starting point of my MS symptoms. I plan on becoming reacquainted with these old friends - and definitely will be asking more of them!