Sunday I walked down to the main office of the Vancouver International Film Festival to buy my gold pass to this year's festival, which starts on Sept 30. It was hassle-free and the newly repaired sidewalks down Davie to Seymour St were smooth and easy, but coming back was another story. I had brought my cane, thinking I would need it on the uphill trip home, but my right arm was so weak that it was practically useless. At a couple points I had a real struggle to make the grade, especially beside the Scotia Bank Dance Theatre and crossing the lane ways where the sidewalk ramps and uneven asphalt made each step precarious. I had to take baby steps, inching my way onto flatter ground bit by bit, careful to keep my balance at every point.

I was aware of many eyes watching me to see if I needed help or if I might fall, trying to make sense of my predicament. I have learned to ignore them and to try to appear calm so not to alarm them. Regardless, the trip home was very disconcerting. I have always managed this stretch of road better, and I had hoped it would be easier this time with recent ramp improvements. Back home, I felt the echoes of past feelings of horror and despair returning. Clearly, I won't be able to master these simple challenges much longer. The day that I will need a scooter, the day I have resisted for so long, is drawing closer.

Breathe deeply and exhale slowly. Dispel fear from my heart. There is only the present. All else is illusion. Life is a wondrous miracle, not a threat.