I am learning how difficult it is to have a family member being disabled, especially when it comes to finding handicapped parking spaces. Sometimes I see people hop out of their cars in one of these reserved spaces and I want to yell, "HEY! YOU CAN WALK! WE NEED THAT SPACE!"
I'm also learning about handicapped friendly doors. You would think all doctors' offices would have that handicap button that you mash and the door magically opens, but they don't. The best doors are the ones that push inwards, not the kind that have to be pulled open; otherwise, one of us ends up contorting their body which is no longer limber, so the other one can roll through.
This morning Truett went to rehab where Zachary, the PT, had Truett walking on a treadmill. I posted a picture on Facebook which showed Truett all harnessed up walking on the treadmill. Many of you commented about the great progress or how wonderful that he was walking; however, he can only walk under strict supervision, or being harnessed. Zachary was reminding Truett that we walk from heel-to-toe so that's what Truett was practicing. Then I found myself standing up and paying attention to how I walked. Zachary was right: heel...toe...heel...toe.
Reload.
We certainly didn't plan our day right today because after rehab Truett and I had four hours to kill before his eye surgeon's appointment. "What do you want to do?" I asked, and Truett suggested we go look at something pretty. So we headed out to Micanopy, a lovely town. Then we drove to Paynes Prairie. "Great," I thought. I can take photographs." But Truett decided he wanted me to roll him out on the dock. "Jeeze! That means I have to unload that wheelchair and load it back up!" Then I felt guilty.
Unload.
"Okay, come on," I said. Then I felt all better.
Reload.
Next, we decided to have lunch at Red Lobster, which, by the way, have unfriendly doors.
Unload.
We ate, and I loaded the wheelchair back into the Acadia. Whew! Unloading it is fine. All I do is yank on it and pull and hope it doesn't land on my toes as it lands on the pavement. But, reloading the wheelchair is a different story. I don't think I'm tall enough or don't have long enough arms or something, so I struggle and struggle and in it goes! Whew!
Reload.
One hour and fifteen minutes left. "What do we do now?" I asked. Then Truett suggested we go to Books-A-Million. "Crap!" I bellowed. "That means I have to unload and reload that wheelchair! UGH!" Once again, I felt guilty and said, "Okay! Let's go!"
Unload.
Reload.
Truett bought a large magnifying glass and three books. "Uh, Truett. Why are all those bruises on your arm? Could it be that you race through the house with your scooter on full speed, banging into walls?" Poor baby!
Finally, we went to the eye surgeon's office.
Unload.
That's when I realize my husband can't be left alone for more than ten minutes in a doctor's office before he starts rummaging around. "Hey,look at this," he says.
Finally, the doctor saw Truett for about five minutes and decided the stitches will come out of Truett's eye next week, the same day as rehab, only four hours later.
Reload!
At last we made it back to Fort White; but I told Truett that next week we're not running all over the place with me unloading and reloading that wheelchair. Nope. Next week we're going to a movie! That should kill at least two hours.
You go girl!
Posted by: Lou Hollis | May 11, 2011 at 04:41 AM