Ah, the lazy days of summer are now upon us... Unfortunately this often
means air-conditioning hibernation for many MS patients-myself included.
However, this summer I have been blessed with central air so I may have to
hibernate, but at least it’s not just one room. In my old digs, I spent many a
summer day stuck in my bedroom, for it was the only room cool enough for me to
function in. So today, I shall give thanks for my improved housing situation
and the dehumidified freedom it provides.
But alas, this week I must share a gripe as well. On Monday I had an
appointment with my primary doctor whose office is in Budd Lake. So let’s count
the multiple variables that were working against me that day: It was quite hot
out. My aide called out that morning so I had no help getting dressed or putting
on my shoes. I was as devoid of energy as I have been the past month. So-the
odds were already somewhat stacked against me. I did not even bother trying to
wrestle shoes on so I just went barefoot. I somehow made it to my car where I
was blasted with heat and had to sit and be immobile for a bit. But I ultimately
made it into the car and used my handy cloth belt to drag my legs into position.
Hooray, it only took me 90 minutes to get dressed and to the car!
The drive itself was quite fun actually- I hadn’t taken Falcor for an
extended journey in a long time. When I got to the doctors office parking lot,
the handicapped spaces were taken. Mind you, even the ‘accessible’ space often
IS NOT due to insufficient room to deploy my wheelchair ramp. So I parked
diagonally across two spaces, trusting that the handicap placard AND the writing
on the van that states, “ramp installed, do not park within eight feet” would
excuse my having taken two spots. After my appointment was over, I hauled
myself back into the drivers seat (only 15 minutes that time!) and was about to
start the car when I saw it: a note tucked under the windshield wiper. I
couldn’t reach it from the window and NO WAY was I getting out and in again
just to fetch it, so I called back up to the office and one of the receptionists
came down to get it for me. My heart sank before I read it because I just
knew it was going to say something ignorant or worse. It went something
like this, “Just because you have that blue tag doesn’t give you the right to
park anywhere you damn please...” There was more written about how rude and
inconsiderate I was, but I stopped reading. The receptionist, who’s always been
nice to me, said she thought she knew who wrote it, that it was someone from
another office in the building and that I shouldn’t take it personally because
that woman is a notorious b***h. But of course, my hyper-emotionally self was
crushed. Somewhere nearby was a person who probably felt vindicated in writing
that note to me, not knowing the real reason I took two spaces. It’s not like
I drive a friggin Ferrari, it’s a minivan! It made me so unbelievably
sad to think how justified that schmuck felt, how he or she probably drove off
thinking they put me in my place. If only they’d opened their eyes a bit to see
the warning on the van door OR the folded up ramp, were they to peek inside.
That jerk got to feel righteous about writing that note and I just cried out of
frustration. I realize the ‘able-bodied’ world around me cannot always grasp
what it’s like to be a slave to a wheelchair. But there are days when I just
wish they could roll a day in my life-or any handicapped person’s life for that
matter. I often feel there is an unconscious conceit in being able-bodied, that
state of ‘ignorant bliss’ that enables the average person to take their legs or
arms or brain for granted.
