Personal Terror

As a person with a disability who is trying to age in place ,i.e. live independently at home, my home and maintain a job, a regular job working regular hours( 40) per week. One of my worst terror is that something might happen which would force me to loose some of the independence I have clung to over the years of my life. These last few weeks as I have, once again, reentered the medical arena I have been come keenly aware at how much these medical folk can have an impact on your life if you let them.
Yesterday, I went up to University Hospital to have a “Doppler” done on my leg. I have had some swelling and coloration on y lower leg for some time and Dianne was becoming quite worried, I finally called my primary care doc and she was also concerned and wanted me to come in for this Doppler which she was hoping would show if I had blood clots in the leg and make sure the veins were OK. I was encouraged and relieved when the doc reported that everything looked good, no clots and venous was OK but I needed to consider wearing ted hose or compression stockings!?!! Right now as I sit and type these words I am physically repelled at the thought of wearing compression stocks. It is not so much as having to wear the socks, as much as having to have someone else put these socks on and then take them off. This is one thing I know I cannot do my self do to he strong elastics used in the socks for the very purpose of pushing the blood back to the heart. My doc also ants me to wear them 23 hours a day( one our they can be off while I do my hygiene routine) WRONG! I hate to see myself as the non-compliant patient but that is what I m becoming. I still have not taken the pills she prescribed, water pills, which are supposed to rid my body of extra water=means trips to the bathroom. Hey, I work for a living, I don’t have time to be hold up in the john every thirty minutes and I sleep nude, thank you very much, I don’t need rubber band socks putting the squeeze all through the night. But again the biggest fear is not being able to do these things by myself, independently. I am up at 4:30 am and have to be dressed, fed and out of the house by 5:45 am –I don’t have time compression socks! But this all whispers to me “you are getting old, your wearing out, you have to have someone help you.
I just struggled in the bathroom trying to get my pants back up after using the toilet—I rarely do use any toilet but my home facilities but every once in a while I am on my own out in the world. It took me an hour from start to finish but I eventually got my pants back up and myself half way presentable just barely and should do until I can get home. I am always surprised and pleased I can still these activities of daily living by my self but the day is coming when I won’t be able to and that day terrifies me.