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Rockin' and Rollin', Mostly Rollin'

Emerson Marie and me. Taken last week at Chrissy Field in the Golden Gate Park

I've written in the past about my travails with this damned MS - mostly about falling in very public places and trying to overcome the embarrassment of landing in full view of many and at awkward moments. I've written about trying to overcome my concern of 'what others think' and probably vowed a gazillion times to move on valiantly with my life with MS. I wrote about being 'too sexy for my cane' and then having to reluctantly move on using a walker for my primary mode of transportation. Well, today, I am without my cane and my walkers sit in storage! Not because I'm too sexy or I've gotten stronger and can now do marathons (even it I could, I wouldn't! I've never understood running unless it was running to a party or away from my past. I mean you're running, often in public, and getting all sweaty and parts are jiggling for all to see and I have knock knees so I'm sure I'm a comedy skit for someone who witnessed my previous attempts. And it makes you pregnant - but that's another story!). 

Sorry for that digression - but running in public should probably be a future essay.

I no longer use the cane or walker because I've moved on to a wheelchair. After three falls while using one of the previously mentioned, now gathering dust, walkers - I'm now four-wheeling. Like my previous transitions, however, I didn't move on gracefully and this one is probably the most difficult. Well, not probably, but definitely the most difficult. 

I knew it was coming. It was a struggle to walk. There was a time last summer when I was at Meijer (for those of you unfamiliar with this store, it's a clean, Midwestern version of a sprawling Walmart superstore where you can get your salmon and bait, lingerie and hunting gear - you get the picture.) and walking to the check out. I was bone tired and ready to get to the car so I could sit down. I must have been quite the picture, because the manager was walking towards me and then looked back to see lines in the other check out lanes. He immediately went to the open lane next to him and said he'd take care of me here. I then had first class assistance to my car, loading my groceries. At the time,though, I just thought it was great service because it was a new location but in hindsight I realized because I must have been seriously dragging holding on to the cart for dear life. I was often so tired after shopping, that I didn't have the energy or ability to unload the groceries once I got home.

One of the falls using the walker actually occurred after a Meijier trip (pun intended). I was trying to bring some of the loot from my car in the garage into the house on my walker, when I twisted my right ankle (the foot that had healed from a break in May) and couldn't stand. So I made a couple trips, crawling, from where the groceries were spilled in the garage into the house. I left the rest in the car. I sat on the floor and cried - partially from pain but mostly from recognition that I just couldn't do it anymore. And I prayed for clarity and discernment - asking God if I should be trying to still trying to walk. When I looked up, the first thing I saw was the wheelchair I had been using when I'd broken my foot. I'd say that was a pretty clear answer to prayer.

Funny thing about prayer - God always listens to our prayers and He answers our prayers but not always in the way we want or when we want. I had been praying prior to incident in the garage, but I'd been asking God to give me the strength to keep walking. I kept falling, then even when using the walker. This time, I prayed for His answer to what I should be doing - and the answer was the wheelchair in the corner. 
So, I'm rolling. 

When we had our recent trip to California (more on this next), we were having drinks at the Top of the Mark with a group from the conference John was attending. My conference buddy, Andrea Darr (she will be another essay!) asked me to dance. The band was playing disco (I love disco because there is no better music to dance to!) and Motown (the second best music to dance to!) and I hesitated for a second or maybe a nano-second before rolling onto the dance floor. Here's a funny thing when dancing while wheeling, you become a center of attention. (Kerri, I'm sure you could have told me this!) The lead singer in the band, came out to dance a bit with me and fellow dancers surrounded me - one man tried to spin me but I kind of freaked about my chair moving and stopped the spin! I wanted to get up and dance, so desperately I longed to get on my feet and do the hustle or bust a move, but I knew God had me in the chair and in the chair I would stay. Dancing the night away - well not really because John and I were still on Eastern time and left the party about 45 minutes later.

So, I'm still rockin' and rollin'. But mostly rolling.


Comments

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

When an ass is so much more

  Body image. Body positivity.  Or about coming to an appreciation for a previously much maligned back end.  In junior high (that's middle school for all of you non boomers), I was given the nickname "big butt Bowen". It was a nickname that stung because I did indeed have a large ass. I tried to mask it, a difficult endeavor since the current fashion (and remember this is junior high when fitting in was paramount) was wearing hip hugger jeans with midriff tops and my disguise of choice were peasant blouses or dresses. That style choice earned an additional nickname, Mama Cass. For those of you that don't know who Mama Cass was, she was part of the Mamas and Papas and known for her beautiful voice but also for her large body.  All about Mama Cass I was cruelly nicknamed at a time when nicknames can really mess with a girl's psyche. And I spent a lifetime as that girl with the messed up psyche. I'm sure there are more than one of you out there that can relate. B

Peter Pan no more

                          It's time. Peter Pan had to grow up.  For nearly 18 months of his life, Matthew dressed in this costume. In this picture it's new, just out of the box. He picked the costume out of a catalog and when it arrived, two weeks prior to Halloween, he asked daily if today was the day he could finally wear his Peter Pan costume. He didn't like the hat and only wore it on Halloween, but the rest of the costume he wore daily! You read that correctly - DAILY. He wore it to Meijer (for those of you unfamiliar with Meijer, it's a cleaner, friendlier, more 'upscale' version of WalMart), to church, to play dates and preschool ... Heck, he was three and adorable and it worked for him!  (Yes you read that correctly, he even wore it to church on one or two occasions when it seemed arguing with a three year old about not wearing a costume to church was not a battle worth waging. He once mentioned the priests wore dresses . . . I don't think Joh

Cabin fever made me do it!

Like nearly ever person in West Michigan, I have a serious case of cabin fever.  I won't waste your time however, complaining about the two-hundred feet of snow that's fallen in the last two hours. I won't share about the twenty or thirty times I've had to shovel my walk today as gusts blew it right back in my face. And I certainly will not lament about the temperatures that hover around negative double digits making your nostrils freeze together within moments of stepping outside. To bore you with tales of how we have to shovel areas in our yard so that our large dog and can do his 'duty' because the snow is deeper than he is tall and dogs for whatever reason cannot poop in the same place twice, is not what I will share. You will not hear about how when I open the slider to let aforementioned dog outside, gusts of wind blow drifts of snow inside and require a shovel to once again close the door.  Nor will I share how some roads around here are drifted shut be