Musings of an Old Guy with an Unwanted Companion in a 140 Year Old House

 According to medical literature on Google I do not have escalaphobia-  the fear of riding escalators. Escalaphobia is related to bathmophobia- the fear of stairs or slopes, not to be confused with climacophobia, obviously the fear of climbing.  Unlike people suffering from acrophobia, the climacophobic are not afraid of heights, but become fearful when they have to climb.   None of these should be confused with illyngophobia-the fear of vertigo.  I just wanted to understand why I had trouble descending an escalator last week and found myself trapped in Google, descending further and further away from my initial dive into some understanding.  My plunge then became cute, entertainment instead of true understanding. On the site titled ,very well mind (not capitalized),in addition to the aforementioned related phobias, I found headings such as Negative Experiences with Escalators, Escalator Myths Debunked, Escalator Safety and of course, Seeking Treatment. I’m pretty sure battling phobias is hard work, so I’ll skip the jokes, although I imagine phobias might be easy pickings for late night TV. 

     To the point, I don’t have a fear of escalators or any other phobia that I am aware of, but I do have Dermatomyositis (DM), which may sound like a phobia, but is a physical condition in which almost no one has heard of, including most medical people.  In males, it afflicts five out of 1,000,000 people, which might explain why local family doctors might miss it as they glance at their computer screens, trying to capture the correct words to please the insurance companies. (But that is another story).

     I approached my descent at the Barnes and Noble bookstore with little trepidation, but soon found I couldn’t make the first step.  My brain first tried my left foot and then my right and kept going from right to left. Sometimes my foot actually left the ground; sometimes I was unable to begin the lift as my foot wouldn’t leave the ground. With great discomposure ,  I looked around and found no one observing me. As I sit here trying to analyze the true reason why I looked around, it is not clear to me.  Was I simply avoiding creating a logjam, making sure no one was waiting to go for a ride or more likely I didn’t want people to think I was an old man (I am 70) afraid or unable to get on the escalator.

But that’s not it, I have DM.  I need a t-shirt with big letters on the front and a definition on the back to explain this unwanted companion that travels with me.

The back of the shirt would be filled with bullets that would only begin to explain my journey the last few years:

*I was confined to a wheelchair last year

*I lost my ability to walk

* With treatment, I am getting stronger

*I may flair and regress

*I’m not lazy; I ran an ultramarathon just before getting sick

*My balance was severely affected.

*I still don’t know what I can do

*I still don’t know what I can’t do

* I have done my PT; I have the certificate of completion

     I could go on, but back to the escalator.  My brain doesn’t always talk to my body, the way it used to.  I am left with a bum leg that feels as if I have to drag it along wherever I go.  I am still discovering my legs and what I can  and cannot do.  It is a great epiphany to discover something new I am able to accomplish. I celebrated with delight when I could climb my way to the upstairs in my home.  I still approach this effort cautiously, especially coming down.  Each day brings a new reason to celebrate.  

 You would have to observe closely to notice I have a problem and it would have been pretty clear to you if you had been trying to go down the escalator at the bookstore behind me.  In hindsight ,my effort lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like I was tying everyone’s day up.  I did take the step; I don’t remember which leg led, but it does matter in everything I do.  I have to think before I take steps on anything but a flat smooth surface.  My brain has to analyze what is ahead of me like never before.    

Postscript:  I did run into a different set of escalators a few weeks later. After having conquered the previous escalator, I never thought for a moment I wouldn’t be riding down after riding up.  But I couldn’t.  Despite having Becky beside me to lend a shoulder, the mechanics didn’t work out in my brain. I never could analyze a way to take that first step without imagining tumbling headfirst.  No stairs to be found, so I rather humbly road the elevator down one floor.  ( Those of you who are older and follow football will remember a linebacker for the Miami Dolphins, Nick Buoniconti,  He later became an attorney and we worked in the same 17 story building in Miami.  He was never shy about sharing his thoughts on people riding the elevator for one floor. This always stuck with me, which added to my self-inflicted my humility.)

I may never run into another escalator, but it does trouble me that I have that fear now.  Should I just avoid them, use the stairs, practice somehow or simply ride the elevator with my hat in hand?