The other night, my husband went to the Boston Lyric Opera’s production of the Marriage of Figaro. I was so excited that Jake wanted to go ( a “Deadhead” — he’s a recent convert to “serious music”, since listening to Robert Greenberg’s lecture series, How to Listen to and Understand Great Music).
But, after we bought the seats, I found myself anxious about this, and only then did I remember why, many years ago, I stopped going to theater (other than movie theaters). I hated buying tickets, in advance, that usually were a lot of money, only to find that the day of the event, I wasn’t doing well or I’d be in a position where I had to struggle with some physical difficulty. It wasn’t a conscious decision. I just stopped doing it.
We could only get balcony seats. Good news is they weren’t expensive tickets. Bad news? Where do I start? We had to walk 5 steep flights of stairs – and then down narrow stairs with no railing to get to our seats. So, there I am wobbling with my bad balance and gripping Jake’s arm ’til it hurt — and I look around wondering how other people made it down and realized I was surrounded by octogenarians. Once, again, I was obviously in worse shape than the people around me, even if they were decades older.
We were stuck in the middle of a row in which the seats had no leg room — and when I say no leg room, it was so tight that if someone had to go past you, you couldn’t just move your legs to one side or even stand and let them out. You had to exit the row. Two problems, I can’t sit in one spot with my legs going into spasm for more than one hour AND I have to go to the bathroom frequently. Oh, I forgot about 3rd problem We were so high up, it was so steep, and my balance made it hard for me to walk without falling, that I’d fall on everyone in the row as I’d make my exit in the middle of a scene. Did I mention I don’t like heights?
The good news (and there is some) is that it was such a great production that at times, I forgot about my physical misery. I also was able to use what I’ve learned from Anne Weiser Cornell, Focusing and Pain (see my entry April 29 07), and that helped make the pain sensation easier to bear.
But, here’s the dilemma. I find myself approaching situations that have some unknown with a measure of anxiety. And, that’s not good because when I’m already keyed up, I can’t address what’s going on as clearly. I’m not as able to “manage” my sense of pain — nor make good decisions about what I should or shouldn’t be doing. Also, I just don’t want to stop taking risks (and it’s sad when going to the Opera is taking a physical risk!) or putting myself in unknown places.
It is easiest to be in my own home. Ahh, home sweet home. But it’s not enough.
Rosalind
Nickie says
I don’t know very much about MS, but have a nerve condition myself, and what I’ve found works well for me is to ask for “accessible” seating. There is usually enough room for me, and I don’t have to deal with balance issues on stairs. Also, it gives me more room, so that my pain can stay somewhat managed, and I still get to enjoy the concert.
Rosalind Joffe says
Nickie, that’s a great point. But that’s the challenge when you’re in the “unknown”. I didn’t know this would be a problem until I was well into the concert But, thanks for sharing. Rosalnd
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