Today, when my Mom walked into my room to get me out of my bed, the back of my right shoulder was itching. I put my left hand in my shirt to scratch it and then I smiled pretty broadly. My Mom asked about that.
I’m not very talkative in the morning, but I continued smiling, and just told her, “I scratch; you move.” I had that warm memory in my mind as my Mom was taking the covers off of me. I explained that Sean told me that I have the best nails to scratch backs, but I suck at scratching them!
I think that was the beginning of the loss of control of my hands. I just told him, “I scratch; you move.” I would then just raise my left hand and shake it, and he would take his shirt off and move himself to make it, so that I was scratching his back.
I was thinking of that memory with fondness because my Mom cut all of my nails to the nub yesterday because I need to not have them to put my contacts in and to take them out of my eyes. Yeah, I still wear my contacts, even though I wear glasses with a prism on them.
I will see my optometrist in July, but I won’t see my neural ophthalmologist until next year.