Monthly Archives: September 2009
Last week, Dave and I went for a walk after dinner. It was a little later than usual, 7:15 pm or so, but the weather was perfect and we decided to head out around the neighborhood.
We always really enjoy these walks, taking the chance to check out landscaping and, in Dave’s case, look at antennas (he has a thing for them) and driveways (since we are in desperate need of a new driveway). By the way, have you priced driveways lately?! Good grief. Ours, however, is really in a bad way and I’ve been teasing Dave about having to mow the driveway because weeds are growing up everywhere through the cracks. So we stop and sigh every time we see a new concrete or paved driveway (both far, far out of our price range).
As we’re walking (longer than we originally planned to because it was just so pleasant outside), I realize it’s getting dark faster than I expected it to. I guess it’s another sign that summer is coming to an end, with the days starting to get a bit shorter. It’s actually getting dark so quickly that I begin to worry about Dave. I can tell he’s walking slower and having a harder time than when we first started out. Because the leukemia robbed him of his balance, he gets his balance from his eyes now. If he’s in a dark room and it’s harder for him to see, it makes him weave and wobble. This is why we never go for nighttime walks.
As darkness descends, one of my CI batteries dies out. It’s on my left CI, my better ear (and the ear I always keep next to Dave when we’re walking, because he hears out of his right ear only). I signal to Dave to stop, switch CI batteries to power up my (better) left side again, and hand him my right-side CI and the dead battery to put in his pocket. We continue along, both hearing from one ear only, moving slower and slower as it gets darker.
Another 5 or 10 minutes pass, and my other CI goes out. Thankfully we’ve been heading back towards home ever since we realized how quickly it was getting dark. Now it’s really dark and Dave is kind of weaving around on the sidewalk. As my second CI goes off the air, I laugh and tell him he’s going to have to just listen to me talk all the way home. I can’t really see him to lip read if he talks too, and anyway, it’s too hard to try to look to the side to lip read while I’m walking. It makes me weave around too.
What a pair we are! If anyone saw us, they would probably think we were drunk, weaving and wobbling our way home.