No matter how many times I try to explain how I feel to my family, they don't seem to understand. Every day I come home from work, park my car in the carport, walk down the driveway, up the stairs and into the house. By the time I reach the living room I have to stop and rest my legs-they just don't feel like they will carry me any farther. Every day my husband asks me why I'm standing in the middle of the living room. Every day I tell him I'm waiting for my legs to catch up.

Then the other morning as I came out to work in the garden with him I told him my legs were particularly bad and I was moving really slowly. No sooner did I make it down from the house to the yard when cut his finger, would I go get him a bandage. I said sure, but why don't you come with me, it will be quicker. For some reason he couldn't comprehend why he had to toddle along with me, and so he didn't, and stayed down in the yard bleeding. When I finally came back out he had the nerve to ask me what took me so long! I just about threw a potted geranium at him!

Is my family just really dense? Any of you run up against similar situations?