CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY EIGHT: HANDICAPPED

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY EIGHT: HANDICAPPED

“Handicapped”: What the heck does that mean? In golf, it’s a good thing, because you can play and beat better golfers if your handicap is high (artificially or actually). So playing golf with a handicap is good. On the other hand, living with a handicap is not so beneficial, except for the premium parking spaces you can legitimately use. Oh, and yes, there is a sympathy factor, not so prevalent in these days of selfies and an overall sense of personal entitlement. A few older women try to make up for what the rest of the population chooses to ignore: “Move this handicapped person to the head of the line!” “Let this handicapped person sit down and rest!” “Open the door for this handicapped person!” “Let’s get some breakfast for this handicapped person!” All of those acts of kindness are greatly appreciated, as they underscore my “handicapped” status.

My handicapped status is still relatively new and very strange. My right leg was amputated below the knee on March 24, and this is now July 12. As I sit in a wheelchair to write this Blog, I feel the constant nerve pain in the end of my right leg, not phantom pain which also occurs, but real needling, piercing nerve pain, with an occasional electric jolt through the entire body. Hmmm. If you had asked me last year what I would be doing this year, I don’t think I would have mentioned learning to walk using a prosthesis. But as I bounce from bed to bed and chair to counter in my apartment at Marina del Mar, trying to walk again – and feeling like a ball in an old pinball machine – that is my primary goal, nay my only goal, these days. I lurch around on my prosthesis, not quite putting all my weight on it (it hurts!), and I feel a lot like Frankenstein’s monster. Maybe I should try that wide open gait, with the stiff knees, which the monster used. I am assured by Terri, the super-patient maker of my prosthesis that I will walk again without using parallel bars or walkers. Also, Hector, the double amputee, who works with Terri, tells me I am making great progress. But for me, great progress would be driving again and hiking and walking at a faster pace than a snail.

Being “handicapped”, for me, means restricting my social actions. I can’t drive myself anywhere. Period. How’s that for isolation? Oh yes, the darling Admiral drives me to all our doctor’s appointments and to stores and to restaurants, but you know, how about a quick trip to Starbucks? Or a visit to the Wild Bird Refuge? Or return to my tai chi classes? And how about doing this driving, while the Admiral is busy working on a database? That way, the Admiral would have his life back too. Now he does most of the heavy lifting for both of us – grocery shopping, pharmacy visits, laundry, post office – even if I am a passenger in the car sometimes. Driving, my friend, is freedom, pure and simple. And I want to get back to driving as much as walking.

Being “handicapped” means watching television more hours of the day than ever before. Thank God for Wimbledon and the women’s World Cup and the Warriors NBA championship run. I would have watched all those programs without being handicapped. But I have watched far too many hours of CNN and MSNBC for any healthy individual. True, I can talk about all the “breaking news” (give me a break!), particularly that news that “breaks” over three or four straight days, with the same videotape in the background (example: New York prison escapees). I don’t regret becoming addicted to Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy, because I love games, and I have won so much virtual money on those shows. Well, maybe, I have a touch of regret about this addiction. But I have found that C Span is my favorite network – what a constant variety of talking heads. C Span is at its best when it is repeating verbatim the oral arguments before the U.S. Supreme Court justices. You can hear for yourself how parochial (in every sense of the word) Justice Alito is or how risible Justice Scalia’s comments are. And you can bask in the glow of the wise words of Justice Ginsburg or the sensible questions of Justice Breyer.

With all this television watching, however, I have neglected my reading, except for Dear Life (Munro), The Girl on the Train (from Louisa), Euphoria (King), and Pat Duval’s bio of his transition from a de jure segregated neighborhood in Florida to a de facto segregated neighborhood in California. My friends have been so thoughtful to send me Great Books to read, and I will read them, but I am a much slower reader these days. I attribute it to the recurring pain, which makes it hard to concentrate. But I think that’s an excuse which lets me play stupid card games on my IPad and IPhone. As you, dear Blog readers, are my witness, I hereby disavow card games for reading books!  Of the books I have read, I recommend Euphoria wholeheartedly – short and oh so sweetly written. It’s a fictional account of one part of the life of Margaret Mead in the South Pacific. I’m sure the real account of this time in her life is just as exciting. How would you like to submerge yourself in another culture for years? I submerged myself in the German culture for a year, and it was hard to stop dreaming in German once I returned to the USA. However, I did not have to give up any of my creature comforts to do that. I can’t imagine living among very primitive (in our eyes) people in an environment with no amenities, lots of bugs and snakes and terrible diseases, all the time not knowing if they are planning to have me for dinner, literally.

For those of you who are reading about my handicap, my amputated right leg, for the first time in this Blog, I know each of you has your own physical challenges, maybe a fear of flying or fear of heights, or a bad knee or back, whatever. Until the amputation, I led a charmed life, physically. I was able to run and hike and bike with reckless abandon, any time day or night. I treasure those years, and I plan to return to them. I know that the path back to normalcy or independence is kind of twisted, sometimes uphill and often obscured, but I will stay on it until I achieve my goal. I am told it is a realistic goal for me to walk and hike again, unaided by walkers or crutches. With those assurances, I will proceed to bounce from bed to bed until I can put my full weight on my prosthesis and walk like a “normal” person. It’s time for baby steps, even as I dream of running through Toro Park. And in the meantime, the Admiral and I will continue to avail ourselves of the choice “handicapped” parking spaces, because we will have to go back to regular spaces soon enough.

If you are not “handicapped”, enjoy your independence to the max. If you are “handicapped”, be grateful to all the people who help you to be as independent as possible. I am very grateful to the Admiral, who has had to think about my needs as well as his own – every single day. I am also very grateful to those of you (Barbara and Brenda, you’re the best!) who have visited me and raised my spirits. When I’m walking, I will return those visits and try to raise your spirits, if they need raising.

I feel a political rant coming on, what with the entry by Scott Walker into the clownish race for Republican presidential nominee on Monday, July 12. But I’ll withhold further comment until his next colossal blunder, like comparing Union-busting to the destruction of Isis or calling Ronald Reagan’s firing of air controllers his greatest foreign policy action. And what is your view on evolution, Governor Walker? By now, you should have a programmed answer fed to you by your army of consultants. No more spontaneity for you! Every day I feel more and more like I’m living in a banana republic, a third world country, whenever I contemplate the Republican candidates for President. Thankfully, I don’t think about them often. Just focus on the good things: the creation of a new national monument, the increase in the number of people eligible for overtime pay, the millions who now receive health insurance, the sacrosanct right to marry extended to all, the saving of the Fair Housing Act’s anti-discrimination clauses, the removal of the Confederate flag – and the indefatigable Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Live long and fight for justice every day of your life.