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I am not a terribly nostalgic person – and that’s just as well, because things change at light speed when you’re living with PSP.
Over the last few months, I’ve given up my career, my car, and the ability to drive. I’ve lost the ability to walk more than a few steps with a walker. I’ve given up food in the conventional sense, now relying on pureed meals and liquids to avoid choking. I’ve even surrendered half of my house, moving downstairs into a renovated unit designed for disability access, just to avoid the treacherous assault course known as the stairs.
At some point, I’ll have to give up more. I imagine I’ll eventually submit to the doctors’ request for a feeding tube and 24/7 care. Being precious about “things” is not a good trait to have with PSP – it makes short work of them.
But this afternoon, I had a thought. In the bedroom I now use downstairs are two items given to me by grandparents I loved dearly: my late grandfather’s binoculars, taken from a German soldier in North Africa in WWII when he was a British Army Officer, and a pair of his reddish gloves. There’s also a bronze statue of a bison made by my late grandmother on the other side of the family, which I adored as a child.
These are just things. Yes, they trigger happy memories, but my mind is steeped far more in their examples than in their possessions. My grandmother – unique and stubborn in ways that weren’t always easy – suffered a terrible stroke that left her paralyzed. Yet she fought every single day to live independently. She wouldn’t give in. It’s not the bronze I remember her by.
My grandfather was simply the kindest person I’ll ever know – a true role model of generosity. At 4 p.m. every day, he treated himself to a whisky. That’s what I remember.
So, what’s my point? Things are transient. They’re just that – things. What matters are memories, relationships, and the actions we take. If living downstairs, eating carefully, and avoiding falls keeps me going longer, I’ll accept all of it.
Of course, change of this magnitude at this speed is difficult. It’s easy to say it doesn’t pay to like “things” – but it certainly helps. I’m still working out the bumps: the hot water thermostat is upstairs, as is the Wi-Fi reset, and most of my clothes and towels. I won’t elaborate, except to say I recently had to search for the largest kitchen towel I could find and take a cold shower. But that, truly, is not the end of the world.
