A home of my own that fits my world in a wheel chair

Moving is never easy. There are countless things to keep track of- packing all your worldly possessions in a reasonably organized and sane manner, updating your address, and above all else-making peace with change. But first, you need a place to move TO. Finding your new ideal home is difficult for anybody, certainly. Now imagine factoring in seemingly trivial things like door width, curb heights, even the placement of a peephole-and you're beginning to see the world from a wheelchair.

Not surprisingly there's not a huge inventory of handicap-accessible apartments in New Jersey. When you're stuck in a wheelchair like I am, the fun aspects of moving like square footage and pretty cabinets go out the window. I was looking for a place where I could shower somewhere other than from a sink and more than anything, somewhere I would not be constantly banging my kneecaps into everything. So I started doing some research. The shortage of handicap accessible housing is scary. No, 'scary' doesn't do it justice. A more appropriate description would be terrifying. Of the limited options available, a great deal were located in urban settings such as Camden, Newark, or Atlantic City- all unfamiliar to a small town gal such as myself. But I know beggars can't be choosers, so I kept at it. The few (and I mean FEW) options available also weren't exactly 'available' because they almost always carried with them a waiting list. I filled out countless applications and placed many phone calls. I figured the sooner I got on a waiting list, the sooner something would become available... That is correct in theory, certainly, but many of the waiting lists were YEARS long. Sure I didn't want to wait that long, but I also was running out of time. My mother is wonderful but she is also not a spring chicken. Our house wasn't in the best of shape and I could no longer just eek by. I needed to move before I HAD to.

About two years pass during which my physical disability was rapidly increasing and my options were no better. Panic attacks were frequent. I read an email from the MS Society about a housing project that was still being constructed in Allendale. There would be four apartments for qualified applicants living with MS. The application itself was extensive, forms from my doctor would be needed in addition to an extensive financial assessment. I remember the application was due by 4:45pm on a Friday afternoon, at the Bergen County United Way offices in Paramus. As a lifelong procrastinator I waited until the last possible moment to submit everything. In fact, it was my mom who drove to Paramus to drop it off, I was just too exhausted. A month or two went by and then I heard back that I had been selected for an interview, not unlike an actor getting a callback. I took my sister along for moral support. The interview went so well I could hardly believe it. On the way home my sister commented that she hadn't seen me so confident in a long time. I hadn't FELT so confident in what seemed like forever, years easily. I felt really good about my chances and felt a familiar spark of positivity. It was the most "ME" I had been in a decade. Still, I tempered my excitement with the reality that I was hoping for one of only four openings. Six weeks go by and it's the end of the summer, decision time. I called United Way to update my phone number and also fish for an update. Their housing services coordinator greeted me with the fantastic news that I could expect great news in the mail. I was out in the driveway with my sister and nephew, I rolled over to where they were sitting. "I got the apartment!" I declared. My sister and I were both crying like fools. My nephew was just perplexed, I think! This was officially the start of something great.