Scooter Saga

The fortress One day, when I was certain I didn't yet need any assistive devices (Skeeter was way in the future) , I was emptying the garbage, when I heard the garage-to-house door lock behind me.  "No problem," I thought.  I'd just use the hidden spare key.  Then I remembered the old Hide-a-key case had been damaged and I hadn't gotten around to replacing it.  "No problem," I thought.  I'd just call one of my neighbors to help.  My cell phone was in the house .  I could hear Lucy barking--probably wondering why I hadn't yet come back in the house .  I had never trained her to open doors, so that wasn't an option.  After trying every door and window, I had to face up to having really locked myself out of the house.  Would this help? My next door neighbors' house was under construction and I could hear workmen.  I'd just stroll down there and borrow a phone from one of them.  But, my strolling days were over and I knew I

There was a time before Skeeter, before a rollator/walker or even trekking poles... In retrospect, I think I was trying to convince myself that I wasn't noticeably disabled.  Although I'm somewhat of a denial advocate, this attitude often got me in more trouble than it benefited me.  I actually thought if I acted normally, no one would think something was amiss.  They did.  People who knew me well, knew right away something was up, but casual acquaintances and strangers just thought I was impaired for some reason.  Pick your impairment of choice--drugs (nope) , MS/stroke (nope) , dementia (not yet), alcohol (probably) .  But, that just wouldn't do.  Pretending that my struggles were only internal and not obvious, wasn't compatible with preserving my self-image. In the middle of a nice day, I decided to drive down to a local bike shop to buy my husband a birthday gift.  I did and drove home.  At the time, I had a dog, Lucy, who felt her "job" was to fri

I don’t have a chip on my shoulder,  really  I don’t.  Well maybe a little one, when I encounter the stranger who, recognizing some of my physical disabilities and assuming cognitive deficits as well, speaks very LOUDLY and s-l-o-w-l-y to me.  OK, a big chip.  It doesn’t happen often, particularly when I’m perched atop Skeeter and perhaps my ability to run people over is a deterrent.   Being female and blond, I've always encountered the prejudice, but I don't brush it off as easily now.   A little background.  When my father died, he left a CD to my children, Heidi and Jason.  I had thought the gift would go into his second wife’s estate and despite some legal efforts, I figured I had tried and that was that.  My father was no Warren Buffet–either in assets or business sense, but the children had families of their own and could always use some extra money.  So when the bank called me and said the CD funds could be claimed, I promptly made an appointment with the banker

A year?  It's hard to believe that Skeeter was preceeded by a rental scooter in Tucson when I had my initial mishap in a museum bathroom (the first of many) exactly a year ago.  She and I came back early from Maui (3/26 8 pm) in order to go on our annual "girl trip" in Tucson (3/27 6 am) .  Hey, trips to the sun are tough, but someone has to do it.  Since I flew home sans Earl, the airline was particularly helpful and my friend Ed and his son-in-law Jason met us (me and Skeeter) on the other end. Now that you have the picture and can see trouble coming, let me just say we had a great time in Tucson except for the start and finish.  Since my worst nightmare is not being on time for a flight, I set two alarms for 3:45 am, figuring that would give me plenty of time to shower, get dressed, repack, and insure that Skeeter was ready to go.  Even though my Ataxia keeps me from moving fast, by 10 pm I went to bed confident that I could travel, repack, set alarms, and get up