In October 2010 (I think it was the 8th) I was no more than two minutes into my journey to a friend’s house when I realised I was no longer well enough to drive. I couldn’t trust myself to turn right. I couldn’t trust my brain to tell me if there was traffic coming… My arms were too heavy to keep them up on the steering wheel. I couldn’t move my head fast enough to look left and right because it felt as if it was full of water. My vision was blurry and I couldn’t tell if I was hallucinating or not. I went straight back home and got a lift. That was the last time I’d driven myself to a friend’s house.
That friend moved house about three years ago and I have never driven myself to her ‘new’ home, or the one she lived in before this one come to think of it.
That October evening back in 2010 marked the beginning of the end of my independence.
In December 2014 I reached yet another driving milestone though. I drove myself to her house. Stayed for a couple of hours. Then I drove myself home. It seems fitting that it was to the same friend’s house that I last tried to drive to that evening in October. It rounds it off nicely. If there is no more progress after this I will be content. More than content. I will be ecstatic! I can’t yet do it regularly or reliably but we can’t have it all can we?!
And do you know? I haven’t had to eat upstairs in my bed, alone, even on Bed Days for a good few months…
I don’t dare say that things are going okay…
M.E. myself and I 