Looking at the World

through disabled-colored glasses is quite different. And those glasses have really opened my eyes.

I pretty much can't go anywhere alone. I can't drive, and there is only so far I can push myself in my wheelchair.

Jerry and I try to lead as normal a life as possible. When the pandemic began we started going to TraderJoe's and Costco every other week together, and we've kept that up. Except now in Costco I riding one of those electric scooters with the shopping basket in front, which in reality,is much too small for a a Costco run, but we make do.

But until I rode in one, I didn't realize these electric carts are invisible. People are reading email or texting while they are shopping, and they decide to stop walking and text back in the middle of an aisle, leaving no room on either side for me to pass. Or they block the way waiting for a free sample. I say "excuse me" a lot in Costco and do my best not to get angry.

In Trader Joe's I carry a basket on my lap. When it is full, we are done. It works out okay, although there are still a few excuse mes while people, you guessed it, are stopping to read their mail or text.

This past week was Restaurant Week, and boy howdy did I feel disabled. One restaurant has a no-step dining room, but it had been taken over by a birthday party. The other dining room had to be gotten to through an alley, a back door, and just a "couple" steps. Two young waiters lifted my chair to get me there. Another restaurant had no valet parking that night, despite their website saying they did, so a friend wheeled me in while Jerry went a couple blocks to a garage. Another place (yes, we like Restaurant Week) had an easy entrance but it had pretty tight quarters so a couple people had to stand to let me through.

And then, of course, are the places I can't go to at all. And some of them are places I really like. I am so tired of asking, Are you accessible? Some places don't have th courtesy to let me know after I've sent them an email, so for more than one reason I won't go there.

But all this brings me to last night. While I might have still been disabled, I felt included.

Last night Jerry and I went to a Barcs fundraiser in the form of a dog wedding, held in the ballroom at the Lord Baltimore Hotel. Anybody would be fortunate to get married there, so Lily and Nugget were two lucky dogs, indeed.

What I did not know before I got there was I would be asked to carry one of the bridesmaid-kittens down the aisle. You bet I said yes. After a glass of surprisingly good Maryland Cabernet, it was time for me to pick up my tulle-festooned kitten. I was asked if I needed help but I was pretty sure with my strong left leg and one arm I could make my own way, and that was true except getting over a bit of uneven flooring, and one of the photographers leapt up to get me across.

Barcs, as you likely know, is so important to me, and to be included in this event went beyond special. I had so much fun with it-- picking up the little kitten's arm to wave to people, and mingling after the ceremony so people could pet the tiny bridesmaid.

There was a photo booth and people at my table made sure I was included in the group photo. Also, there were several roving photographers and one got a lovely shot of Jerry and me. In the photo I am standing next to Jerry, no sign of being someone who rolls, instead of walks.

So yeah, I am disabled, and if things go the way I hope, some day I will walk again. Perhaps not as fast or nimbly as I used to walk, but I will walk. Not everyone is so fortunate.

For now, I get around in a wheelchair and to a lesser extent with a walker. Once I am more mobile, I do not think I will forget my experiences as someone who is not quite as visible to the rest of the world, and I hope, to me, they remain visible.