Walk with me, through my world.

I have a hard time understanding some things.  

Like how insensitive people can be. And self-centered and uncaring. 

Like drivers who inconsiderately speed around, paying no mind to pedestrians, bicyclists, those pushing babies and young children in strollers, and people in wheelchairs. 

Or, like joggers who won't slow down and use caution while passing me in my wheelchair when we share walking/bike paths. 

Or people who spit on the sidewalk. Who wants to inadvertently walk/roll through that and track it into our homes? 

And then there are those that litter, completely clueless to the bad example they set for the countless children watching their actions.  

Sometimes I feel very annoyed after such people cross my path. 

A woman working at Denny's in my town came to open the door for me (AFTER I beckoned her with the appropriate hand-gesture.)  She opened the door and then stood directly in the path of my wheelchair!  

I politely told her she was standing in my way to get through the doorway, after which she griped sarcastically, "I don't know what to do!" 

And then, there are all those drivers in my town who ignore me in my wheelchair as I attempt to cross streets at crosswalks and at traffic signals. 

They speed on past me, never even slowing down, as if anyone not in a vehicle is invisible to them entirely. 

On another day, I encountered two clueless young women at the local bagel shop who handed me the key to the restroom, after which I followed their instructions to go down a narrow hallway only to discover 3 feet from the restroom door there was a step. 

To make matters worse, the hallway had boxes and supplies stacked along the side, and was too narrow for me to turn my wheelchair around to exit the hallway back the way I'd come. 

I had to back my wheelchair all the way out of the hallway, which was unduly stressful. I was even more upset the workers DIDN'T THINK to realize a wheelchair needs a ramp to traverse a step! 

It has been 23 years since the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) was passed to mandate equal access be granted to those who are differently-abled. It is not only cold and calloused, but illegal, for business owners to not, know about and willingly provide, reasonable accommodations so that disabled people can be included. 

We should not even need a law directing folks to be helpful so that those who use wheelchairs, canes, and walkers, as well as, those who walk unaided but with great difficulty, can be included and go places abled-bodied people go. 

Even when folks do not personally have any disabled or elderly and frail people in their lives, it only takes a small amount of imagination to become aware of the obstacles which exist that are barriers to access. 

Long before it became difficult for me to walk, when my children were little, I taught them to be aware of and helpful to those around them who were having difficulty. After all, isn't that the right thing to do?

In my view, a little awareness and empathy can go a long way to helping us all become better citizens.

empty as a pocket, with nothing to lose

Well, my fingers are stiff from the swelling of arthritis and my mind is fuzzy from... what? What is causing my brain to short circuit? Mid-sentence I cannot think of the next word I was going to say, sometimes. Five minutes after I see something, I cannot recall what I saw, sometimes. I have trouble remembering details, sometimes.

Someone with whom I used to be close commented a few months back the reason she no longer made time to sit and talk with me was she didn't like hearing me repeat things. Remembering her words makes me shudder, feeling old and worn out, no longer useful or entertaining. I've become an annoyance, like a lamp with a loose bulb. My brain flickers on and off, sometimes. It is very disorienting and scary. Is it a temporary condition or the start of something more sinister?

Is it because I am depressed, or, is it the antidepressant medication I take? You know, they do not tell you that you will still feel depressed, even though you take the meds. I find it oddly amusing that the only difference is that being depressed seems to matter less. I think the reason most people go off their medication is because it doesn't make their depression "go away," and they mistakenly think it should. The holidays are especially tough times to get through for those of us struggling with depression.

I am surprised to see that my last post was a year ago. It seems like just a few months have passed. Has it really been two years since my beloved Patrick died his horrible death at home from esophageal cancer? I still miss him so. He was a Brooklyn, New Yawk man with a heart as big as Texas. A little short man with very long arms that could reach all the way around my oversized body, to wrap me in delicious hugs, sweeter than double-fudge brownies topped with Hagen Daz coffee ice cream.  A kind and loving man, not easily forgotten, who treated all he met as if they were the most important person on the planet. My own short-comings are the reason that happy memories are no match for the profound grief I feel, because he certainly left me with many wonderful memories. When I'm alone I still hear his deep voice and gentle words in my ear, singing to me as he often did. My heart aches in my chest and tears burn hot paths down my cheeks, then drip down to soak my shirt. My nose runs and I don't want to wipe it. Just let it drip, like the pain oozing its way out, slowly, slowly, a little at a time. It used to be daily, but has now been weeks since I last cried. I don't yet know if that is a good thing.

It has been months since I had a hug. As a person who thrives on acts of affection, I am dying of thirst as if in the Sahara. My secret pocket is empty. You know? The imaginary pocket where we store all the magic warm fuzzies? Those are the feelings we get from the warm embrace of a child, a close friend, or a lover, which can be stored in the secret pocket next to our heart, to be brought out as needed when there's no one around when we need a hug. And, now that I am in rural Oregon, with no children, grandchildren, family, or close friends nearby, I find it very hard to get through each day.

Everything in and around me is empty. I found a place to live one week ago, so my bank account is empty (after shelling out $1,204 for a lease.)  I came to Oregon with only what fit into 3 suitcases so my new house is empty. I spent all morning on the phone trying to find a bed. I had to beg the Rescue Mission furniture store two blocks from my house in downtown Roseburg to give me a bed, since I have no money and my air mattress went kaput at 6:15 this morning, tossing me and all my blankets onto the floor. The task of getting off the floor and into my wheelchair was so pitiful it was comical. And, after crying about my knees hurting, I did laugh, because I was so happy I did not have to call the fire department guys to help me get off the floor.  My refrigerator is empty, never mind it is 3 days before Christmas (my disability and widow's benefits make me ineligible for food stamps.) 



As empty as I feel right now, there are things for which I am grateful. Today, it was having friends get out in the rain to bring over and set up, my beat up old donated bed.  I am grateful for the friends and the bed.

Even though I am poor and my depression has me by the throat today, it is the little things that make me feel rich, sometimes.


My life right now is pretty much like Paul Simon sings about on Graceland,  

"Empty as a pocket, with nothing to lose...  but she's got diamonds on the soles of her shoes."