Scooter Saga

The evaluation No, not those kind of girls.  As I said, the road trip convinced us that it was time to give up the walker and move to a wheelchair*.  Earl and I knew it was coming, and had, in fact, been talking and researching since the beginning of the year.  When we got back from our trip, I scheduled an evaluation with a Physical Therapist who was employed by our healthcare provider.  She and a 'mobility specialist' (whatever that is) , assessed and measured me in every possible dimension.  Talk about humiliation bullet!  But they wanted to customize the wheelchair and that was our goal as well.  I got over that issue quickly.  The report generated by the evaluation documented every option, but painted a very bleak view of my progression.  Some things are best to move past.  Anyway, they indicated that it would be awhile until my chair was built and delivered (4–6 weeks). Wanting to keep our children informed, we told them what we were planning. The next day, be

Since I was no longer driving*, we had decided to go with one automobile.  In May, Earl sold his BMW, partially because we were now a one car family and partially to get an automatic transmission.  After years of driving fun cars, it was his turn to bite the humiliation bullet.  While we waited for the new vehicle to arrive, we hung on to the Prius. The old car Actually, letting go of the Prius was even harder (for me) than selling the Beemer.  We had bought it in 2008 from our son when he got his corporate vehicle.  It had been my car and taken me through my final driving career.  It had hauled both the old and new motorized scooters and the walker, never complaining (spare me comments about over–personification**). Eight years old and it still only had 45,000 miles on the odometer.  Maybe I was the legendary 'owned by a little old lady...blah, blah, blah'.  In June, we sold it to our nephew for his daughter, so the Prius was owned by three generations of Schumans.  H

I know that's an overused phrase, but it's true.  The major difference is that when I went to previous rodeos, it was pre–ataxia.  Now I have a wheelchair and require help to do most things.  I also drank more previously, didn't mind loud crowds, had a larger bladder capacity*, and was a bit more 'country'.  I hate to say it, but I was also younger . Events advertise that they have handicapped accommodations and they do–sort of.** Parking was close and Earl was able to keep my chair out of the horse poop on the way to the arena.  Fortunately, I could navigate to my seat with help and the event volunteers stowed the wheelchair nearby. But truth be told, rodeos are more enjoyable for people with balance and functioning lower extremities.  It also helps to suspend liberal opinions for an evening, as rodeo lovers tend to espouse more of a conservative world view.  Who needs an Elphaba at a rodeo***?  She can be such a wet blanket.  But, it was so hard keeping my

Disclaimer : Certainly, pictures have taken on increasing blog importance in the last five years, but there are a lot in this posting.  Be forewarned—it's my freakin' blog.  I'd like to take credit, but I can't.  Jason, Elizabeth, Earl, and Heidi took most of the snapshots.  I just requested and appropriated them.  Jason, the amateur photographer, actually got up in the middle of the night and drove to Paulina Peak to get photos of the Central Oregon sky.  That's dedication... Kyle and the bike stamp Our annual family vacation took us back to Caldera Springs (next to Sunriver) and may become the permanent go–to place for now.  I know there are many beautiful places in Oregon.  But the weather is nice, the biking is family–friendly, I can scoot without a guardian, and there is so much to do**.  We had the usual bike accidents, head injuries, and sunburns, but nothing major.  Kyle wore his 'stamp' proudly.  He did tell me not to use the word &