So this evening I had the brilliant idea that since my new AFOs provide better stability when I stand, I should try and see if I could take any steps without assistance. No, I do not know why I temporarily forgot the fact that the last time I attempted this stunt I face planted with astonishing speed and force or the fact that I have a hard enough time maneuvering with my crutches. It seemed like a brilliant revelation and a great way to prove that this disease is not progressive, that I am getting stronger. There might have been a little stubborn pride and will tangled up in my brilliance, a touch of denial, and some strong desire to take back control. So step one was standing without assistance, which is dangerous in and of itself because with my trunk muscles weakened I have a difficult time maintaining balance. In physical therapy, the therapist was literally able to knock me over with two fingers pushing my chest, back, or side. I am a living Weeble Wobble only I do fall down. That right there should have illuminated the predictable outcome of my brilliant idea, but I was so caught up in my revelation that common sense became uncommon. I managed to stand with my feet spread out in a wide stance (nothing dainty or feminine here, I had work to do). Then step two - moving forward. Hmm. This is the part that is really tricky, because with my crutches I use my upper body to puch upward and then just kind of drag, thrust my lower body along for the ride. I twisted at the waist but nothing happened other than a near fall. Okay, so my legs feel like they somehow weight about 500lbs yet are as sturdy as tiny twigs and I seem to have no motor plan for moving them forward without holding on to something. That should have been a red flag, but I was still being stubborn. A few more twists and I looked like a robot set to self destruct dancing. I finally somehow managed to clear the ground by about 0.001 millimeters with the bottom of my right foot while twisting and my foot ended up maybe half a step forward as my arms spun wildly in the air. With all of the wild arm spinning and hip twisting and flailing, my left fot cleared the ground by the same 0.001 milimeters and ended up maybe a half step forward. Yea, woo hoo, two steps. Except I was not done flailing and fighting for balance, and the fight was not in my favor. As I plunged to my knees and broke a further forward fall with my arms my pride also took a spill. The hardwood floor was not the most ideal of landing surfaces, and both my knees and pride are going to be banged up. After sitting on the floor for a minute having a good old fashioned pity party, I creeped my way over to my wheelchair (just those two half "steps" and the forward fall behind me) and hauled my dejected self back into it. Sometimes my body feels better in terms of the muscle spasms, and the dysphagia, and the constant nausea, and the horrid weakness, and the fatigue, and everything else and I think maybe, just maybe I am "getting better", maybe I will walk independently again or even with assistance as a functional skills, maybe this will all go away. And then I test my limits, and hopefully all that I bruise is my ego and my pride when the truth knocks me down. So tonight I have an ice pack on my pride and a few new bruises on my knees. Both will heal with time.