I confess I got this idea from an earlier post. Copied the concept as a compliment to the original (unknown) author while using words to describe my own Ataxia experience
Progressive cerebellar ataxia, type 6 - male
Ataxia
I slur my words; I cannot write, not even sign my name.
I drop my food; need help to bathe, to others I look lame.
I’ve fallen down and hurt myself, so I try not to fall,
When I dress I sit on bed, or lean against the wall.
I’ve cramps a lot, rush out of bed, to make them go away.
I bite myself, I spill my drink, I choke most every day.
I once might mow the lawn or do some work around the garden,
Now walking’s hard and I am tired of hearing that word “pardon?”
I see some jobs I used to do now looking so neglected
and pretend that I’m okay - at least to be as expected.
My sense of humour - it is still there, but I must concentrate
Sorry I can’t turn round, or I’ll end up prostrate!
I used to like a meeting, a networker I would be
Now if people want to meet, they have to visit me.
I can still drive but then can’t walk, so shopping I can’t do.
Unless you need a chauffeur, then I’m no use to you.
Internet shopping has changed a lot, from looking at nice gear
to research a good walker, and aids that are not dear.
Some days are good, some days are bad, but wobbly they all are,
Ataxia only goes away when in bed, or chair or car.
Many of my peers, of course, have illness at their door -
I may wobble and slowly move but I do not ask for more.
My heart and lungs are good it seems, I visit the gym too,
and feel less sorry for myself - I’ve seen what smiles can do.
My wife does everything she knows I cannot do
without a moan (she sings all day); she really pulls me through.
So each morning that I awake I’m grateful for the day.
Although I’m not as I was, I have no pain to take away.
Just been unlucky so the doctor says to get such a disease,
so I’ll wobble and I will smile but hope for a cure - please!
I’m grateful for this forum where you can have your say
and appreciate support received from Ataxia UK.