The Floor and I

I grew up in a 900 sq. ft. house that my father had built with the help of his brothers. They installed radiant heating, a series of hot water pipes, in the concrete slab. On cold winter mornings the floor was toasty and warm. When I was 10, I must have weighed all of 65 pounds, and I was frequently cold in the winter. So in the mornings I could be found on the floor in the bathroom where the radiant heating worked most effectively through the linoleum. My sister would pound on the door and shout “Ronnie, get out of there; I have to get ready for school”. Sometimes my brother would join me, and then we were twice as difficult to budge.

In the 1970s I developed a primitive practice of yoga. I learned to take the position of the plow and stretch my legs and back. I was taught in the course of actor training that the floor was my friend. I was encouraged to get friendly with it and know where it was at all times. I’m not sure what actor training is like today, but in those days we spent a lot of time on the floor, being snakes and bears and what have you.

In the 1990s as MS began to impact my locomotion, I developed methods to assist myself. I would lean on furniture and eventually had grab bars installed in the bathroom. But like most humans, I get distracted. One weekend Tom was away from home visiting his mother in Florida. I was transferring from my chair to the bed with the aid of a tall pole installed in our bedroom. I could usually make the transfer in one smooth movement, but my legs didn’t really have the strength to hold me up. So on this particular evening, I pulled my pants off and accidentally slipped to the floor. I couldn’t get back up. I tried to crawl up into the bed, no dice. My arms weren’t strong enough. I thought about spending the night on the floor, I could pull bedding down on top of myself, but I would still have the same problem in the morning unless I wanted to spend three days on the floor. So I reached the phone off my nightstand, and called my next-door neighbor, the San Diego police officer. He came over and got me into the bed, and told me I would be surprised how many times the police get called for similar situations.

I don’t spend much time on the floor anymore. Today most of my transfers are assisted by someone. But if I make a misstep, my old friend the floor is still there, waiting to embrace me with open arms.