It doesn't happen so often anymore, but there are times in my life when I realize something or am made to see something I have not wanted to see.
When that happens, I tend to shut down. Before, I've deleted blogs or sworn that I'm never coming back, etc. etc.
I'm not saying that now.
But what I am saying is that I've had the wind knocked out of me and I'll be taking some time off here for awhile.
Fair wind and smooth sailing.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
No Limits
One of my fantasies is that I'm allowed to try every form of disability that I want to. Miraculously, I am restored to my ordinary self within a fantasy day or two.
I saw a video once of a Japanese woman who had an insert in her ear that made her gait spastic. I would love to get hold of that ear piece for a day or two.
Blindsimming is easy. All I have to do is take off my glasses, put on a pair of dark glasses, and I'm in business. Actually, it's a lot like every day life.
Deafness? I think my hearing is already impaired. Once upon a time, I had to use ear plugs to get to sleep, but I never took them out for a spin in public.
Most of my interest lies in mobility or lack thereof.
Again, my very rich fantasy life sometimes has been spending days in the House of Solange, an ordinary-looking woman (with the exception of her long leg braces) who can arrange to have many fascinating things happen.
Some go beyond the pale, but it's my pale and I can go beyond it if I want.
It's always satisfying to spend some time chez Solange, but it doesn't do to stay there very long. At all.
I saw a video once of a Japanese woman who had an insert in her ear that made her gait spastic. I would love to get hold of that ear piece for a day or two.
Blindsimming is easy. All I have to do is take off my glasses, put on a pair of dark glasses, and I'm in business. Actually, it's a lot like every day life.
Deafness? I think my hearing is already impaired. Once upon a time, I had to use ear plugs to get to sleep, but I never took them out for a spin in public.
Most of my interest lies in mobility or lack thereof.
Again, my very rich fantasy life sometimes has been spending days in the House of Solange, an ordinary-looking woman (with the exception of her long leg braces) who can arrange to have many fascinating things happen.
Some go beyond the pale, but it's my pale and I can go beyond it if I want.
It's always satisfying to spend some time chez Solange, but it doesn't do to stay there very long. At all.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Dark Wonderland
Last week when I was transferring from my chair to a chair in the restaurant, it took careful planning and a couple of tries because my lower body did not want to move.
I've experienced this a couple of other times in my wheelchair.
What surprises me is that I'm not faking anything. My lower legs aren't working. I don't trust my quadriceps to hold me up.
I don't get a thrill that "oo, look at me, I am what I want to be" because I'm concentrating on the situation at hand.
Those moments of struggle and plotting every move are as real as real can be. For one or two brief seconds, they have been alarming.
After it's over, I'm a little amazed that my mind is that strong. Because surely, that's what's orchestrating my lower body's non-cooperation.
No doubt it is my mind, perfectly willing to hypnotize myself into believing what I want to believe.
I don't know how to emphasize how real and how striking these moments are, how they go into a quiet internal space that I don't think my conscious mind has ever seen.
What, I wonder, is that place like? And what else is in there?
I've experienced this a couple of other times in my wheelchair.
What surprises me is that I'm not faking anything. My lower legs aren't working. I don't trust my quadriceps to hold me up.
I don't get a thrill that "oo, look at me, I am what I want to be" because I'm concentrating on the situation at hand.
Those moments of struggle and plotting every move are as real as real can be. For one or two brief seconds, they have been alarming.
After it's over, I'm a little amazed that my mind is that strong. Because surely, that's what's orchestrating my lower body's non-cooperation.
No doubt it is my mind, perfectly willing to hypnotize myself into believing what I want to believe.
I don't know how to emphasize how real and how striking these moments are, how they go into a quiet internal space that I don't think my conscious mind has ever seen.
What, I wonder, is that place like? And what else is in there?
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Maps Lie
I went to a world-famous museum today, wheeling. I did my due diligence first. The blue badge parking lot was just here. The museum's accessible entrance, right next to it. There was an accessible ladies room next to the restaurant.
What the maps didn't tell me were that:
1. The blue badge parking was on a relatively steep slope. I wheeled down it, but it took extra help getting back up.
2. There is only ONE accessible rest room and it's faux accessible. I couldn't fit my chair into the stall.
3. The restaurant (which was very nice and very pricey) was at the end of another incline. One of the security guards came over and pushed me the rest of the way. Going back down was fun and I have to admit, I was very tempted to just keep rolling and maybe run over some people.
4. Unlike the NY Metropolitan Museum of Art that stocks all of its stores with the same things, this museum didn't. I mean that if, say, you see a book on Andrew Wyeth right outside a Wyeth exhibit, if you don't buy it there, it will be at the museum store. If you find, as I did, a couple of cute doo-dads and expect to see them at the museum store, you won't.
There was something about this trip that took a lot out of me.
For one thing, after awhile, I gave up telling people that I was fine and I didn't need any help, thank you. At least ten people asked me. Ten! And honestly, my shoulders and hands were done. So at the end, someone could have wheeled me home and I would have been just as happy.
I was disappointed at how much the maps lie. I know they don't lie at the Metropolitan Museum, having gone there and rented a chair. And I didn't need anyone to push me anywhere.
I'm taking some Aleve. And then I'm taking a nap.
What the maps didn't tell me were that:
1. The blue badge parking was on a relatively steep slope. I wheeled down it, but it took extra help getting back up.
2. There is only ONE accessible rest room and it's faux accessible. I couldn't fit my chair into the stall.
3. The restaurant (which was very nice and very pricey) was at the end of another incline. One of the security guards came over and pushed me the rest of the way. Going back down was fun and I have to admit, I was very tempted to just keep rolling and maybe run over some people.
4. Unlike the NY Metropolitan Museum of Art that stocks all of its stores with the same things, this museum didn't. I mean that if, say, you see a book on Andrew Wyeth right outside a Wyeth exhibit, if you don't buy it there, it will be at the museum store. If you find, as I did, a couple of cute doo-dads and expect to see them at the museum store, you won't.
There was something about this trip that took a lot out of me.
For one thing, after awhile, I gave up telling people that I was fine and I didn't need any help, thank you. At least ten people asked me. Ten! And honestly, my shoulders and hands were done. So at the end, someone could have wheeled me home and I would have been just as happy.
I was disappointed at how much the maps lie. I know they don't lie at the Metropolitan Museum, having gone there and rented a chair. And I didn't need anyone to push me anywhere.
I'm taking some Aleve. And then I'm taking a nap.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
In Retrospect
Despite what I think most of the time, I really have been fortunate in my life. My physical maladies and injuries have been few. I have no lingering health problems. I think it makes doctors angry that I can be so overweight and yet be so healthy.
I've had the usual scrapes since childhood. A broken foot. Badly sprained ankles. Some cases of road rash when I fell off my bike a couple of times. All in all, well done, me for not being more of a klutz and managing to be in the right place most of the right times.
There have been some close calls, though, some circumstances that would have proved painful, if not deadly. Or really, really inconvenient.
Four or five years ago, a friend had invited me to drive into the city with her to pick up her daughter and go out for dinner. I don't remember why I declined, but it turned out to be the night of a massive blackout in New York City. I think it took her until one in the morning to get home.
On 9/11/2001, I had been scheduled to be at my then-company's Wall Street offices for training. There was a change in my job duties, so the training was canceled two weeks before.
Then much further back, there was the impromptu trip I turned down with my parents. I was going to college in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. It was a gorgeous spring day in March. My mother was recovering from hip replacement surgery and she wanted to get out and about. Although they lived about two hours away from where I was going to school, they called me and asked if I wanted to go for a ride with them.
It was so tempting. Really, really tempting. But I'd done badly during my first semester and was working like mad to rescue my GPA. Despite how gorgeous the day was, even though at first, I said yes, when I looked at the stack of books on my desk, I knew I had to spend the day at the library, studying.
They called me four hours later. They'd been rear-ended by some drunk going 50 mph while they were going 45 mph. Luckily, my parents were unhurt, although I think it set back my mother's recovery a little bit.
The car wasn't driveable so they got my aunt to come pick them up and had the car towed back to town.
Later when I went home for spring break, I saw the car.
I saw where I usually sat. The drunk's car had pushed the trunk forward to the point where, if I'd been sitting there, I would have gotten hit hard (if not smushed). It would have hit me a little below the waist.
At the time, I thought, my legs would have been broken. My knees would have been smashed.
I think that would have been the least of it, really.
Set forward, who knows what would have happened to my mother?
And what damage would have been done to me? Specifically, my spine.
I'm grateful I wasn't in the car that day. The physical damage would have been the least of it. If I had caused injury or worse to my mother, that would have been nearly impossible to live with. If she had survived intact, what would have followed would have been years of unbearable dependency on them. My mother's attitude would not have been good.
The house they lived in was completely inaccessible. I know I would have wanted to go back to college as soon as possible, but would have found that campus inaccessible.
Now I would like to think, maybe it would have forced the issue sooner for me to be out on my own. Perhaps I would have moved to the West Coast, found a college there. And likely would have stayed there.
There are so many points in our lives where we don't realize that we're making a life altering decision. Taking this road or that, going for a Sunday drive or staying at school to study.
I wish there was a machine to let me see what that one decision, reversed, would have meant to me.
I've had the usual scrapes since childhood. A broken foot. Badly sprained ankles. Some cases of road rash when I fell off my bike a couple of times. All in all, well done, me for not being more of a klutz and managing to be in the right place most of the right times.
There have been some close calls, though, some circumstances that would have proved painful, if not deadly. Or really, really inconvenient.
Four or five years ago, a friend had invited me to drive into the city with her to pick up her daughter and go out for dinner. I don't remember why I declined, but it turned out to be the night of a massive blackout in New York City. I think it took her until one in the morning to get home.
On 9/11/2001, I had been scheduled to be at my then-company's Wall Street offices for training. There was a change in my job duties, so the training was canceled two weeks before.
Then much further back, there was the impromptu trip I turned down with my parents. I was going to college in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. It was a gorgeous spring day in March. My mother was recovering from hip replacement surgery and she wanted to get out and about. Although they lived about two hours away from where I was going to school, they called me and asked if I wanted to go for a ride with them.
It was so tempting. Really, really tempting. But I'd done badly during my first semester and was working like mad to rescue my GPA. Despite how gorgeous the day was, even though at first, I said yes, when I looked at the stack of books on my desk, I knew I had to spend the day at the library, studying.
They called me four hours later. They'd been rear-ended by some drunk going 50 mph while they were going 45 mph. Luckily, my parents were unhurt, although I think it set back my mother's recovery a little bit.
The car wasn't driveable so they got my aunt to come pick them up and had the car towed back to town.
Later when I went home for spring break, I saw the car.
I saw where I usually sat. The drunk's car had pushed the trunk forward to the point where, if I'd been sitting there, I would have gotten hit hard (if not smushed). It would have hit me a little below the waist.
At the time, I thought, my legs would have been broken. My knees would have been smashed.
I think that would have been the least of it, really.
Set forward, who knows what would have happened to my mother?
And what damage would have been done to me? Specifically, my spine.
I'm grateful I wasn't in the car that day. The physical damage would have been the least of it. If I had caused injury or worse to my mother, that would have been nearly impossible to live with. If she had survived intact, what would have followed would have been years of unbearable dependency on them. My mother's attitude would not have been good.
The house they lived in was completely inaccessible. I know I would have wanted to go back to college as soon as possible, but would have found that campus inaccessible.
Now I would like to think, maybe it would have forced the issue sooner for me to be out on my own. Perhaps I would have moved to the West Coast, found a college there. And likely would have stayed there.
There are so many points in our lives where we don't realize that we're making a life altering decision. Taking this road or that, going for a Sunday drive or staying at school to study.
I wish there was a machine to let me see what that one decision, reversed, would have meant to me.
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