Scooter Saga

A common question I get is, "Do you still drive with your Ataxia?"  The answer is yes–sort of.  I drive familiar, short routes (breakfast, hair appointments, etc.) , in the daylight .  Other times, I rely on Earl, Sandie,  family and friends.  But if there's a scooting opportunity, I scoot.  When the time comes that I don't feel safe, I hope to turn in the car keys before they are taken away.  However, I have to admit it'll be a struggle when they "pry them from my cold, dead hands" (well, scratch the dead part) . But it will be one more humiliation bullet, no matter what. I don't drive exactly like an old lady, but close.  I'm more cautious.   I avoid the stereotype often attributed to elders.  First of all, I'm tall, so my head shows way above the steering wheel.  Second, my hair color is blond (blue doesn't become me and I don't gray well; my gray hair would look like dirt).   I follow the speed limit, which may be slower t

Whether it's poop, pee, gas, snot or saliva––I'd like to choose when, in whose presence, and where it exits.  Ah well...such is the life of an Ataxian.  Fortunately, I have understanding family and friends.   Another reason I love Skeeter–she doesn't care how gross I am.   I watched a movie the other night (of course).   Harry Belafonte's character and Anthony Hopkin's character were having a drink and trading barbs about the effects of aging. Harry Belafonte:  "At least I don't have to get up three times a night to pee." Anthony Hopkins:  "At least I get up." I'm not quite that bad, but I've come to look at the bowel and bladder more globally, like the nose and throat– increased sensitivity . I haven't had major issues yet, but I sense they are coming.  Perhaps it's advancing age or the Ataxia, but I've noticed increased bladder sensitivity and decreased capacity. I've always had a capacity less than ma

As our annual family vacation approached, Earl asks, "do you want to take Skeeter or your trike?"  It was only to the Central Oregon Coast for five days. "Both.  We can load them in the van and, being inanimate, they won't argue about sides, who's touching who or ask if we're there yet." Tammy, the turtle Parking lots work The first day there, it was just Heidi, Michael, Sarah, and Kyle and bike riding was the activity of the day.  We had always gone to Central Oregon where bike riding was a major deal–not so on the coast.  Parks everywhere–not a decent bike path in sight.  But since six-year-old Kyle was breaking in a new bike, a big parking lot would do.  The setting was beautiful and between a dune and a lake–hard to complain.  Besides, I'm used to going around in circles and fortunately, the grandchildren are still biking at my speed and skill level. They're also at that great age where everything is fun–that's not going to