A friend recently told me I look frail because of the weight I've lost. My weight is at its lowest point as an adult. It's hovered around 116 pounds for the past two weeks or so. Sorry you had to see my deformed toes.
A volunteer will soon come to install a grab bar in the shower for me. In order to receive this service, I had to answer some questions. One of them was, do I consider myself frail? I had to answer yes. I am frail. The lower my weight drops, the more frail I become.
I'm no longer able to do things in the evening. My nausea becomes too much after 6:00 PM, so going out to dinner is no longer an option. I can't drive long distances anymore. I'm too weak for that. The combination of nausea and weakness severely limits my ability to do things I used to love. I don't want to put myself in a position where I might have to vomit by the side of the road or in a public restroom.
Wearing jeans has become a problem too. It's too restrictive on my stomach. At home, I wear sweat pants for comfort. But I refuse to wear them in public. I don't see the point of buying new jeans either. I don't expect to be going out that much longer anyway. I was so weak yesterday, I couldn't even make myself breakfast, and had to go back to bed about a hour after I had gotten up.
When I realize how much I declined in March, I can't help but wonder how much I'll decline in April. Will I still be able to eat solid food at the end of the month? Will I be able to go out at all? What unforeseen symptoms will begin? How much weaker will I get? How long before I can't bathe or dress myself? I'm frail now, and that will only increase.
The slow decline my doctor predicted is happening. To be honest, I wish it would happen faster. I have no interest in this process dragging on for many more months. It's no fun. A quick decline would be preferable, at least for me. I'm ready for this to be over.
I know you don't want to hear this. But as always, I must tell the truth. I think any one of us would prefer a quick death to a slow one. I know I would. But I don't get that choice. My body is still inclined to hang on. My otherwise good health is now my enemy.
The word frail reminds me of an old hymn, O Worship The King by Robert Grant. One of the verses says:
Frail children of dust
And feeble as frail
In Thee do we trust
Nor find Thee to fail