That's Not Why I'm Here

For the moment, I'm not participating in any boards or forums. Lately, on one board in particular, it's been the crips vs. the bloods, people calling each other out, and ya know, that's not why I'm here.

I'm here because I have few other outlets for my experiences with BIID. I just want to write about my experiences, what happens, what doesn't, any changes in me that occur as I slowly start to deal more with my experience of BIID.

I'm not the crusading type. I'm not someone you'll see on TV being interviewed about BIID, although kudos to those who have the nerve to do it. I'm not going to reply to someone else's post on that person's blog about how evil and demented people are who have BIID.

There are other conditions/illnesses that I'm dealing with right now and engaging in a dialogue with someone who already dislikes what I am likely won't end satisfactorily for either of us.

To those of you with BIID who can engage in these dialogues, who have the privilege of being able to be upfront about it without losing your job, I say bravo or brava and carry on the good fight.

Excelsior and so on.

You Know Who I Am

I've been to a couple of consumer and trade shows that deal with DME. I went to buy some new gear for my chair and also to check out that the chair back was appropriate for me (It is. All Nature rejoices.). I also went to buy some items that could help with pain because at the time I was dealing with pretty bad back pain.

There must be some secret code, maybe a secret handshake among the sellers, I don't know. Or perhaps I'm being paranoid. But one person in particular, I'm fairly sure he knew I have BIID.

Mostly, no one asks questions unless they're actually physically fitting and measuring you for a chair. When I was in the process of getting a new to me but used chair, I got some questions about the typical use I make of my chair and level of injury. (I only use it when I want to cover long distances. L1 due to a cycling accident which makes me sound way more badass than I am.)

There may be knowing looks. I have no idea if these guys go back to the hotels around the convention center and exchange stories. I suspect they go out for a couple of drinks, some dinner, then fall into bed because they know tomorrow is another day or tomorrow is another day when they have to schlep everything back into various trailers.

They may know who I am, but they don't call me out on it. Because I am jaded, I think it's because my money is as good as anyone else's, including Medicare.

Out and About

Because of some physical therapy I had to address another issue, I'm finding my upper body strength is increasing. This is good. This is very good. There have been some situations that I've been able to power through that I haven't been able to before.

I need to go out more than I have, but have to admit I live in a very inaccessible part of the U.S. If a wheelchair became a daily part of my life, I would head west or at the very least, head someplace where most things are new. And fairly flat.

I know a lot of people complain about getting too much attention when out in their chairs. I've heard that people say rude things to them. This has not yet happened to me. A woman who was coming out of a store held a door open for me and I told her she'd better move unless she wanted her bare toes rolled over and we both laughed.

But no, no one has come rushing to my aid. I'm figuring this out. It's working.

I've spotted a couple of people who looked like they were just about to come rushing over when I turned around and got myself out of whatever small jam I was in.

Kids notice me because I'm at eye level. Maybe a couple have been pulled away from me. I have no objection to that because I don't particularly like children.

But sales people leave me alone. I like that. The most I ever buy when I go out and about is a snack and the clothing stores I go into have beautiful clothes that range from sizes XXXS to M. I am XXL, so it's all just so much window shopping.

I feel about this invisible in my everyday life. It doesn't bother me.

I wonder how it would be if I was with another person. Would that attract more attention? Is it so unusual to see someone in a wheelchair alone? I think it must be, because I can only recall one time when I saw a guy in a wheelchair by himself. (He was crossing Times Square on an autumn evening.)

No. No more invisible than usual.

But it was good to be out and about. I have to do this more often. Much more often.