Tag Archives: wheelchair

Into the Vile

Scarlett had soccer on Sunday afternoon. She and Rob took a trip to a sporting goods store in advance, so she was all decked out in Adidas, including an A.C. Milan jersey. This was fitting, because her soccer class was organized through her preschool, and taught entirely in Italian. It was also fitting because the shirt fit. Haha! #winningatpuns

Sorry about that. I’m not editing it out, though.

With the epic rain we’ve had here in California this month (the phrase “Storm of the Decade” was bandied about last week), the soccer fields were still wet, and extremely messy. I basically ignored this fact, and cruised through the grass in my chair to join the other parents on the sidelines. It was Scarlett’s first class, and I wanted to be right there, even if it did turn me into the abominable mud monster. Read More>

Life on Wheels

It’s Wednesday morning, and there’s a man in my kitchen. I’m usually home alone until about noon, but today is different, because Sal has come to patch up something like 60 divots and gouges throughout our recently renovated house. We were not attacked by starving woodland animals, nor was this the result of drunk Christmas tree decorating or anything to do with the resident 4-year-old. Let me explain.

In 2013, it was getting really hard for me to climb stairs. We lived on the second floor of an old Victorian in the Haight Ashbury neighborhood of San Francisco. One flight up to our door, another flight up to our home. As my legs grew weaker, it became clear that we needed to move. But there we faced a different kind of challenge: finding an accessible place to live in San Francisco, city of hills, multi-story homes and steep staircases. We were still searching when I lost my stair climbing abilities entirely. Rob carried me up and down two flights, every day. Over and over.

Finally we found a home that fit our needs. Read More>

Road Trip

Our drive to Lake Tahoe last week started off well enough. We had snacks. Traffic was decent. Scarlett even fell asleep, and, once we wrestled her out of the bike helmet she had insisted on wearing, she seemed fairly comfortable. Until she woke up an hour later, screaming, “I’M TOO HOT!”

The AC was on and we were doing 80 on the freeway—Rob considers speed limits a suggestion—so her request that we roll the windows down “RIGHT NOW!” was denied. Plus it was 100 degrees outside. We explained to her that she might feel better if she took her shoes off, and we aimed several vents in her direction. She was not remotely pacified, and she handled it like a frustrated four-year-old, kicking and throwing things. Very unsafe behavior for highway driving. By the time we were able to pull off the road and into a gas station, Rob was furious. He pulled her out of the car and set her down on the ground, where she took off all of her clothes, and continued throwing a fit. Read More>