The Glass is Half-Full

  I love it when I'm able to surprise myself. It's kind of hard to do if you think about it - surprising yourself; it's not like you can jump out and say surprise or think something you didn't know you were thinking. You know what I mean? Here's how the feat transpired.  I was parked in Saugatuck at the corner of Butler and Hoffman, near the book store. I needed to get to choir rehearsal and then come back to the store, so my original thought was that I would drive the block and a half and then come back. But it was a busy Saturday and I knew that parking was at a premium, so I  debated with myself about whether I would drive or leave the car and maneuver to rehearsal. You might be thinking, what's the big deal it's only a block. Even in a wheelchair, you should be able to go a block. And I can. But this is a block with a fairly steep hill and a fairly rutted sidewalk. But if I drive t here may not be any parking spaces nearby and I'll end up having to p...

  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 ...

Okay all of you 'struggling to stand' or 'not wanting to have to use a wheelchair' or others that look upon using a wheelchair as a symbol of failure, you're about to get punched. Punched in the figurative sense. I am about to go on my soap box and my Irish is up which means that I'm fairly peeved (though I've been mulling this over for awhile so I'm not as angry as I once was, which means there will be fewer expletives and a kinder tone). If you've read this blog or know me at all, you know that I did not go easily into using a wheelchair as my primary mode of transport. I too, may have had a little bit of your attitude about the wheelchair being sign of failure or of having given up. My sister, Kerri, helped put it in a different light. She said, and I'm paraphrasing here, "It's actually an energy saver since walking is stressful and you're worried about falling - using a wheelchair will take away a lot of that stress. You will hav...

Add insult to injury. My hair is gray. AND thinning!!! And to pile on to my grievances, I am losing weight but most of it appears to be coming from my face and breasts. Yikes. I'm having a difficult time feeling like the hot-mama I used to be or to trick myself into believing I still am. Hell, the wheelchair definitely doesn't help. On a recent bar-hopping excursion (when we crashed our friend's anniversary celebration), we went to several establishments I frequented in my younger and wilder hot-mama days. It was a night of dichotomys. The me that I was would have never looked twice at the me that I am. But I so wanted to jump out of my skin and chair and celebrate like I used to. Okay, maybe not exactly like I used to (I am after all 50 something and the mother of three adult children), but just for a moment and without any recriminating video proof!! But now I'm getting over myself as I realize nearly every woman over 50 probably feels something akin to wh...

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...

It was more than a little ironic that I was reading Gloria Steinem's new book "My Life On the Road" while on our recent trip to California. It was a great book (highly recommend this book!) and was partially responsible for my renewed inspiration to get back to writing on a more regular basis! She wrote from a position of absolute humility and love of humanity that I wish to emulate in my writing. Anyway, the irony was that I'm reading about this independent woman's journeys and encounters while traveling as an independent woman that's become far more dependent on others and experiencing all kinds of encounters! Mostly good, of course - because I am, after all, still relatively Pollyanna-ish! First, when in a wheelchair and flying a whole world of people and service awaits. My first encounter was in the Grand Rapids airport where we were greeted at the Delta counter and told an escort was on the way. I didn't think it was necessary, but kept my mou...

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 s...

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...