Death by Chair, Life in Chair

Or, Chairs—A Love Story

The chair in my lair where I sit and braid my hair.

Perhaps you’ve heard that sitting is the new smoking—that the effects of our sedentary lifestyles are harmful to our health and we all need to be taking more activity breaks from our office chairs and sofas. My colleagues and I used to joke about “death by chair” when we’d stand creakily (at least my knees were creaky!) to go for a coffee run or sunshine break in order to take a break from all that sitting.

These days, my days are spent almost entirely sitting in my chair. The options for activity breaks are fewer; the opportunities for scenery changes are limited. I now call it “Life in Chair.”

“How we spend our days is of course how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour and that one is what we are doing.”—Annie Dillard, in The Writing Life

This chair has allowed me to be relatively comfortable most of the day, share a space with my family and dogs, and also work. It has enabled me to be both present and productive. 

Life in Chair began in response to my back pain—it was the only place I could sit with any pain relief. Now as my mobility has precipitously declined in the past two weeks, life in chair has taken on a slightly different dimension: since I cannot stand or move independently, leaving this chair requires . . . more chairs. So a new cast of characters have been added to Life in Chair, specifically my walker with a seat that allows me some measure of moving around, and my shower stool (which might be the most indispensable chair of all!). 

Do I miss life beyond chair? Of course. (More on that later.) Do I think most people should in fact take more breaks from sitting to move more? Yes. Am I grateful for my collection of chairs that are making life here possible, productive, and present? I am. 

I do like this view from my chair.

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Some Updates

At the end of last week, I had my in-home assessment from the occupational therapist. This was both a helpful and hard visit. She was able to see me move in various daily activities—and her recommendations were not surprising but still difficult to hear. 

·      We need to add a hospital bed for me. I don’t disagree, and the district nurse team will start arrangements on Monday to get it delivered. But it also feels like one more piece gone from the old normal rhythms and routines. 

·      I need to prioritize safety over physical therapy. I don’t disagree—but I was still hoping that I would have a list of activities, a plan to pursue, some sense that I was going make improvement happen. I wanted something to do. I wanted more than, “Be safe.”

·      Stairs are a no-go. I think it’s fair to say that she found it slightly terrifying trying to get me up and down the stairs, based on facial expressions and how tightly we were clutching each other. I don’t disagree—and limiting me from upstairs in our house is something we can work around. The much more significant challenge is that our house does not have a ground floor, and there is no way to leave our house without navigating a long flight of stairs. This presents all sorts of complications that we’re still thinking through. 

A final few notes: The strength and sensation in my feet and legs continues to be highly variable. Saturday they felt a little better; Sunday they were worse again. I’ve also had some nerve pain in one arm, which I mention in part because it has limited how much typing I’ve done the past few days, and I might not be able to reply to messages very quickly for a bit. 

And we have learned that we will get the CT scan results this week. We appreciate your prayers as we wait, as we hear, and as we learn what it might mean moving forward.

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