The Glass is Half-Full

  I have had two very different experiences shopping in the past week. At two different stores in two different cities. While in Grand Rapids for a dermatologist appointment (nothing major found, just a couple zaps/freezes - which is amazing for this fair-skinned lass who had had more than her fair share of sunburns!), I decided  to check out Horrocks Market. It's a store I visited once or twice in Lansing and they opened this GR location near our home in Kentwood a few years after we had moved. I have always wanted to check it out and last week seemed like a perfect chance. First, the ramps into the store are very steep and making rolling up a feat my abs and arms did not appreciate. The store did not have a motorized cart that I could see, or the little shopping carts with wheels (love the ones at Walgreens). So my now noodle-y arms and my chair wheeled through the store with my shopping bag from Aldi. I enjoyed exploring but not 'shopping' because my bag could only hol...

  I understand that there are those who may believe my use of the term 'gimp' is derogatory or demeaning. I do not use it lightly or to belittle anyone, it's just a lot easier for me to than 'disabled' or 'handicapped' because it uses a little snark or humor to something that could use a little of that. Or in this case, I specifically want to make light of my situation so that it doesn't feel depressing. For you or me. Let me try to explain.  One of my pet peeves is the look of sympathy I get from well-meaning people. Like, "Aw, sweetie, I am so sorry that you are less abled, confined to a wheelchair and less able to live the full, active life that I lead."  I am in a wheelchair most of the time and my life is different because of that but in truth I never wanted to run a marathon of play pickleball or climb Mt. Baldhead (I've done the latter too many times usually bringing up the rear of the group I was with and/or being cheered on by the ...

I'm not prone to host pity parties. In fact, the last one I had was over five years ago when I transitioned to the wheelchair. It was a good one, if memory serves, and over forty pounds joined me where they lingered, resulting in a long miserable hang-over. But, it being a pandemic and all, I felt like hosting another pity party. I mean it's a fricking, once in a lifetime opportunity, right? Here I am, gimpy and immune compromised and shut-in for three weeks. I have my "co-workers" John, Matthew and Delaney here with me, Facetime and Zoom for human contact. But I miss my friends, family, WW coworkers and members, people at church, my pharmacist, Bill at the gas station, the owners and staff at a couple restaurants, the florist, the smart-ass cashier at Aldi, the wonderful people at the vet's office, all the healthcare workers I'd be seeing at the oncologist's/neurologist's/optometrist's/dentist's/family doc's offices and all the ...

 I loved Ireland - being there felt strangely familiar. Ive heard it described as the place fit my skins or something like it but more poetic or lyrical. We’ve been home for paver a month, but I feel it calling and know I’ll be back and to what village or townIwil be staying. What I didn’t love, about my Motherland, however, was how difficult it was to get around. And ‘m not talking the driving on the left side of the road. I’m talking about the traversing the sidewalks and buildings while in a wheelchair. I didn’t expect alterations to the old buildings;I didn’t expect an elevator in Blarney Castle just so I could kiss a stone to gain the gift of gab (Lord knows I’ve got that already) or even an accessible entrance to the inn in Kilkenny built in 1264 (though strangely enough they had an entrance with a portable aluminum ramp). What was unexpected, however, was the lack of accessibility at some more modern buildings. And it was that oversight that’s has me appreciative of our ow...

Rain, rain, go away. Don't come back another day. My hair is frizzy. Barometric pressure makes me dizzy. If I go out, wet I'll be. No umbrella hand free to protect me. I'm no Longfellow! And I don't think I'd win a poetry slam, but you get the idea. Rainy days, even when they're not Mondays, get me down. Because when you're navigating the world while four-wheeling, rain presents additional challenges. Last week, for example, the wind was blowing hard enough to blow my wheelchair seat cushion off my car where I'd placed it while removing my chair. It landed in a puddle, upside down, and rested there long enough that the absorbent material in the comfy cushion absorbed quite a bit of water. I may have let an expletive fly, because a store clerk who was standing up against the window under the protective eave, smoking a cigarette and looking at her phone, actually looked up. She didn't come to my aid, but she looked up. Thankful...

I've been in my wheelchair now for over a year - sometimes it seems like 20 and others times seems like days. Depends on a lot of things including my mood for the day (whether my 'get-up-and-go' got up and went), the weather (let's face it even the heartiest of Michiganders don't always want to venture out in blustery, snowy or icy days) and what's on the agenda (if I have a date with my hubby or going to see the not-so-little Piggins). Another variable, about my attitude towards the wheelchair, however is what I believe I will receive from some people when they see me in the wheelchair. What I mean is, some people see ME in a wheelchair and others see me in a WHEELCHAIR. Many times someone will see me coming and give me a look of sorrow or pity - it's a look that gets under my skin and makes me want to scream "You don't see me -I'm not pitiful I'm in a wheelchair!" (actually, what I want to scream sometimes includes a few four-letter...

I'm fairly new to this four-wheeling life. I try to maintain mental balance by not venturing out too much on my own in unknown situations. (That was a way of saying, I don't take too many chances or I'd get frustrated!) But I threw caution to the wind a couple times this past weekend on Mackinac Island - and only a couple times did that pungent Mackinac Island wind (you know what I'm talking about those of you that have been there - a strange mixture of horse dung, fudge, popcorn and lake breezes) blow me over. First, the Island overall is not wheelchair 'friendly'. It's hilly off main street and if you're in a manual wheelchair (especially a lesser one like mine) going uphill is a challenge best overcome by going backwards if alone or by a really strong pusher (thank you John!). And if you're alone and going backwards in a crowd (and isn't there always a crowd in downtown Mackinac), you're likely to get plenty of; stares, offers for ...

I put my pride aside and got my ass off the grass and into the wheelchair. {I spent a couple minutes deciding whether to put an exclamation mark after that declaration or to put the period after that statement. I think the period better suits my mood about getting said ass into the wheelchair!} On July 4, Saugatuck has a wonderfully unique parade that includes quirky participants like the artsy-fartsy campers at OxBow art colony and the LGBT members of a local foundation along with the more traditional participants like Girl Scouts, fire trucks, and local politicians. It had been a couple years since I had been to the parade, this year, though, my Mom and sister were in town and I wanted to take them. So we loaded up in the van, including Kerri's wheelchair and my own. Once we parked, John asked if I wanted to use my chair and I initially balked but then remembered that it can be a long, hot parade and it might be better to have a place to sit. So, I acquiesced and took the cha...