Quiet As A Moose

Quiet As A Moose

 

Quiet. I’m writing.

Quiet as a moose.

That’s right.  It’s not a typo.

Moose.  Not mouse.  Moose.

Multiple sclerosis has turned me into a walking, err, scuffling noisemaker.

 

Hospitals could hire me to wake people from a coma.

I don’t understand how it happens.  I am trying to be quiet but the harder I try-the more racket I seem to make.

If there’s a clang…I CLANG.  If there’s a bang…I don’t bang, I BANG.

 

My how times have changed.

 

Lurking in shadows.

Before MS, I was a silent ninja.

Cognitive of every body part, moving through space with stealth prowess.

I could sneak up on a jaguar.

Every footfall, every touch–a whisper, quiet as a feather falling to the floor.

 

Today with MS, I can’t surprise a senior with tinnitus!

 

I crash.  I knock.  I drop.  I spill.

I scrape.  I fall.  I slam.  I will.

(an olde to Dr. Seuss) 

 

What the hell happened over time?  My actions are not intentional.  I’m trying to be as quiet as I was years before.  But geez.

 

Shhhhh!

I blame MS for my lack of muscle control & poor balance.

Blamed for my dropsies and fumblitis.

It doesn’t help that I am using a rollator, walker and two canes to get my ass from room to room.

Seems I am constantly running into doorways, walls and other things solid.  

And I have learned floors don’t give as much as my face.

My dead-of-the-night bathrooms runs ought to be a family affair as I rouse everyone from their slumber with my clatter.

 

I pray I am not alone in this noisy predicament.  I hope to learn that other MSers relate…and that you too make more noise than a symphony warming up.  Let me know your story with a comment.

Quiet as a mouse?  Pffft.

Quiet as a moose?  Damn straight!

Keep moving.  Silently.

   

 

4 Replies to “Quiet As A Moose”

  1. Quiet, no way! I, like you the quieter I try to be, the louder I become and I’m talking Big Bang, Boom!!! I don’t know if I hate the disease or the constant after shocks! Thanks again Doug, you’re not alone 🥴

    1. Joanne,
      Thanks for fessing up. I like your term “after shocks.” We DO seem to move through a room like an earthquake! Appreciate your readership!

Making it official.