Pre-Skeeter. Locked out

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 would need at least my trekking poles.  Where were they?  In the freakin' house with my keys, the land line, my cell phone, the neighbors' numbers and Lucy.

I staggered downhill (at that point, doable, but not pretty) and borrowed a cell phone from a friendly workman.  I remembered the number for my friend and closest neighbor, but she worked for the city and wasn't home.  Next, I called the only other number I could remember--another friend's mobile phone.  She answered promptly (yahoo!) from a tennis tournament 150 miles away in central Oregon.
Nyah, nyah, nyah


Helpful neighbors,
but long distances
between houses
So why didn't I call Earl?  Two reasons: I wanted to exhaust the easy and/or close solutions to my dilemma first before calling someone who worked 15 miles away.  Secondly, I wasn't ready to fess up to being unable to figure out a solution.  So then why didn't I just go to one of several neighbors? Any one would have been happy to help–I just couldn't get to them.  Our neighborhood isn't set up well for someone with limited mobility.  That was an early clue that limited mobility was an issue. "Houston–we have a problem," I admitted.  Where was Skeeter?  Not built yet.

Fortunately, my next call to daughter Heidi and son-in-law Michael, was more successful.  Michael was at home, although Heidi had taken her daughter, Sarah, to swim lessons and wasn't.  Michael called Heidi and she rescued me an hour later.  Sarah had to come in her wet swimsuit.  Our son Jason and his family lived in Seattle at the time and were spared the entire incident.

The lesson:  Too many to count...









Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

We have contact

Image
Skeeter alerted me to an eyesight problem when I realized there were times when I had to navigate precisely while scooting.  I found myself dealing with my deliberate mono–vision by closing one eye in order to gauge available distance.  How much space was between Earl's car and my car, and between the telephone pole and the edge of the sidewalk?  How much asphalt before the road dropped off into dirt?  It was like my old "contact lens" days when one lens isn't in–blurry around the edge (not exactly double vision) .  Hmm, cataracts (at that time in life) , diminishing acuity (OK,  predictable... ) , Ataxia (a typical symptom for some people) ? Around 1993, I had radial keratotomy (RK) after years of wearing contact lenses or coke bottle glasses for being legally blind.  The surgeons gave me one eye for reading and one for distance (mono–vision) .  It was a good solution for someone in the 40s.  But, as I aged, the difference between the eyes was too significant.
Read more

Resume and Update

Image
It's been almost a year since I last blogged. I'd like to think that I was busy, but in fact, I was just too lazy and got overwhelmed at the thought of writing. The other issue is that not a whole lot new has happened and when friends would say, "You haven't blogged in a while," I just nodded my head and stared blankly. I thought maybe it was time to retire the blog and move on.  I mean-- geez! I started this in 2011. There are nearly 200 posts, two thirds of them after publishing my book.  How much blabbing can a person do?  However, the prospect of not being able to blab was just too much to deal with. So, I decided to dig in and update some old posts-- like, "Whatever happened to...?" or "w hatever happened after...?". Going through old posts was rewarding. I discovered that being honest has paid off in that most of my old observations were still valid.  I was relieved to know that there were few instances of "I wish I hadn't said t
Read more

East Coast Roadtrip

Image
East Coast Fall foliage It had been more than two years since we had ventured on our first roadtrip*.  It was time to move from using a walker to a wheelchair.  That was a particularly difficult humiliation bullet to bite.  I thought I had accepted the inevitability of progression, but I found myself whining, "No-o-o-o!"  Was this the end of the road before absolute immobility? Were my traveling days over?  More importantly, would I strain Earl's back and were my scooting days over? 😱 As with previous transitions, logic and practicality won out.  I was so freakin' slow with a walker. I didn't appreciate how frightening my precarious balance was to others.  Finally, I knew an injury was the bigger personal threat and was to be avoided at all costs.  Thelma and Louise ** became a permanent part of my next chapter.  Wheelchair use gave me greater mobility and freedom than I had expected.  It didn't impact my travel, scooting, and I didn't "
Read more