Not My Finest Moment

It’s been a frustrating few days. My wheelchair footrest has been broken, and I’ve been trying to get the company, California Home Medical Equipment, to fix it since May. I won’t even go into all of the mishaps between then and now, except to say that they finally picked up my chair on Wednesday, and left me with a loaner that makes the electric chair seem like a lounge seat on Air Force One.

The loaner chair was rock hard, and too big for me, and I couldn’t reach the button I needed to push in order to switch the chair from driving mode to seat adjusting mode. It was a very uncomfortable two days, and I called the company right away to tell them I needed my chair back. They were supposed to make many changes to it, switch out the battery, revamp the armrests and the controls which are becoming harder for me to use, and do a general maintenance check since the chair is now two years old. But I couldn’t stand one more day in the loaner from hell, so all they fixed was the foot rest, and now I’m getting my still-flawed-but-sorely-missed wheelchair back. Read More>

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The Human Condition

I’ve been trying to write a blog post for the past week, but all that comes out are the ramblings of a crazy person. It’s been so hard to collect my thoughts, and I’m not sure I’ve done it here successfully at all.

Case in point, I’d like to start with a completely random digression. I’ve known a few crazy people in my life. The woman in my college town who yelled at canned goods in a bus stop alcove. The guy in the same town who used to stand outside the bagel store in his Delta Gamma sweatshirt (according to him, he was a member of the sorority), hassling frat guys and flirting with girls. When I went in to grab a cup of coffee and a bagel, he would sit with me and talk about his upcoming wedding, which was probably imaginary. But it was a welcome break from studying. Everyone called him Scanner Dan, I guess because he used to count things. Dan was short, bearded and far older than the average person that I encountered on State Street. He would sit across from me at a round table, his grubby fingers and greasy hair setting him well apart from the rest of us. Still, he was a part of the college experience. The word at UW Madison was that there was a psychiatric hospital across the lake and that when people got out and went to halfway houses, some of them just started hanging out on campus. It makes sense, I suppose, and is probably something I could confirm with a quick Internet search. But there are crazy people everywhere. Anyway, I don’t think I’m one of them, I just think my latest unposted blog efforts have seemed a little… unhinged. Read More>

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The World at Large

Last night, Rob, Scarlett and I watched Ghostbusters. I’m not sure if it was an advisable choice for a six-year-old or not, but it’s too late now, so I don’t want to hear your thoughts on that, Dad. (P. S. I love you!) Scarlett seemed to really enjoy it, particularly the fat green blob attacking a New York hotdog cart and the scene where Ray fell out of bed in the middle of the night after a ghost unzipped his pants. “Is this part going to be inappropriate?” she leaned over to ask me. “Um.” I said.

Rob hadn’t seen the movie since 1984, so I tried my best–mostly successfully–to not quote along with the entire thing, the way I am perfectly capable of doing. Ghostbusters is rated PG, which means Scarlett should definitely be able to see it, since most of the Pixar and Disney movies she watches are also rated PG. But apparently things were a little bit different in 1984, because I’m pretty sure you don’t hear the words prick, pissed, bitch, ass, shit or goddammit in, say, Finding Dory.

Why am I talking about Ghostbusters? There seem to be so many other things to discuss, both ALS related and otherwise. Read More>

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