I AM STRONG

I am all of these.  I have been called all of these.  Women who speak their minds are often ignored. If a woman has a disability and speaks her mind the mouths of others are agape in shock. The attitude of others is, "Who does she think she is?" "She should be grateful." (I am)  "She should be appreciative." (I am) I will not keep silent.  These labels are not negative. These labels fill me with pride. I am strong.

Thank you, Jane Goodall, for letting me know that I am not alone! 

 

AGING WITH (OR WITHOUT) A DISABILITY

A better title would have been Second Childhood

 Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."

Said the old man, "I do that too."

The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."

"I do that too," laughed the little old man.

Said the little boy, "I often cry."

The old man nodded, "So do I."

But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems

Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."

And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.

I know what you mean," said the little old man.

~ Shel Silverstein  

MY PERCEPTION (REALITY)

 Have I ever written anything that meant anything to anyone other than myself?  No one here really cares what I have to say. Maybe you don't either. Maybe you read my posts for fun.  Maybe you laugh at them secretly thinking how foolish I am.

I hope you do not think the following is foolish.

Everyone perceives their reality differently. According to Dr. Phil, there is no reality. Just an individual's perception of what is going on around them. 

The way I perceive reality is that I am the s**t disturber here. I cause all the problems by advocating for myself. I send emails. I tell what goes on. I bring up old issues such as the staff not looking up from their phones when I speak. I am supposed to converse with only my housemates. That's the rule. I have tried, but it is hard. The staff here is only required to assist with my physical needs. That's it I also have trouble moving on from conversations when I am upset. I repeat myself.

I am blamed for almost all the discord that occurs in this house. I do not feel that's fair, but another support coordinator is leaving here. This was her second stint here. This SC asked that I go through behavior therapy with the staff. They said if I did they would stay. We are waiting for the state to approve it. The SC is leaving anyway. 

My reality is very scary and uncertain. I wake up every morning feeling sick to my stomach not knowing what the day will bring. Human beings were not meant to live in isolation. Not talking to the people around them. This rule is stupid. And rude. I can't live that way. I find it difficult to respect most of the staff. I try. How can they not answer me or speak to me? I will never understand.

I have no idea what tomorrow will bring. I am not allowed to ask who is working. I was told I will see when they get here.

I have to make plans to go out around my housemate's appointments. Last month a friend invited me to visit her at her job. I asked twice if i could go. I was told yes both times. The night before my outing i was told my housemate had an appointment. The SC did not know if  I could go or not. It  depended on the length of my housemate's appointment. Due to the uncertainty, I canceled.

The administration wants me to assist in rebuilding this organization's staff. They asked if I would like to participate in the hiring process. They want to hire better, more professional staff. We'll see

I am asked all the time why I am still here Truthfully, I wish I were on hospice. I saw firsthand how kind those people were. I Thank God I am not sick.  I sure could use some of their kindness right about now.

I am visiting another LTC in two weeks. I will put my name on the waitlist. I should not have moved here. I know I need help. I will put in the work for as long as I live here.  

In four years no one here has ever really supported me. They blamed me but not supported me.

My reality? The fear of what's to come.

I'M A FUN SPAZ

 

Cher's not the only one who can rock a witch's hat!

I have spent the past four years begging the staff to interact with me. Talk to me Show an interest in me. It has been exhausting. I have shed many tears. The staff here meets my needs, then they do their own thing the rest of their shift. I have finally accepted this.

The staff and I are being required to take behavior therapy to work on our interactions with one another. If I had refused to comply with this company's wishes, I would have been given thirty days' notice. kinda puts things in perspective, huh?  Any staff member who refused would be terminated.

I am nervous too because I repeat myself. The staff wants me to break this habit. I am not sure if I can.  If I have made a staff member angry I can't drop it until I know we are good again. Please send good vibes I hope we can all work together.

Good LTC facilities have long waitlists for Medicaid beds. I am not sure I want to leave. There are days, however, when I know the staff would not bat an eye if I did. There are days when I too think it would be best for everyone. 

A few people have seen the side I hide until  I am comfortable enough with a person to show it to them. Until I am sure they will laugh with me and not at me. Several weeks ago a staff member told me that I was funny and silly. That positive comment made my day.

I wish the staff would take the time to get to know me. I wish they would forget how I behaved when I first arrived. I regret my behavior.  Living here is totally different than how I was told it would be. I have accepted this fact too.

I refuse to be bummed out any longer by the staff's behavior toward me. I choose to be happy. If they do not want to know anything about me. If they choose to treat me like I am a task that they must complete. That's their loss. I am not blaming myself anymore.

I want the staff to know that I am an awesome person. If you looked up from your cell phone once in a while you might be surprised. I want things to work out for all of us.

I make a mess when I eat. You may not always be able to understand me, but give me a chance.

Get to know me cuz...

I'm a fun spaz.

The things they made me do!

IF SOMEONE IS

This post should be subtitled oops. 

My finger slipped. I accidentally deleted this. My apologies. 

 

ZAPATOS

My therapist had faith in me. She believed in me. She supported me. She never blamed me. She showed me I was worth it when  I did not think I had any value at all. 

She was there when I was scared to death about having to share a room with another resident. She told me that I was strong enough. That everything would be okay. It was. I loved both of the ladies who shared my room with me.  Although it took a while.

She would tell me not to let a bad exchange with another person ruin my day. You see I find it difficult to let an issue go if  I have wronged someone in some way.  It plays over and over in my head on a loop, while I  am searching for a way to make things right.  Searching for acceptance. She'd tell me not to be so hard on myself.  Our sessions were peppered with the ever-popular cliches of therapists. "How do you feel about that?"  "What do you think about that?" 

If I was having a particularly hard day she'd tell me to have a piece of pie at lunch. A piece of the nursing home's cream pie, the flavor didn't matter, would make everything better.

My therapist prepared me for having a roommate. She prepared me for the transition to my current living situation. She told me I would succeed. I was on my way to a better life.  That was four years ago. August  31, 2018.

August 27, 2022, I give anything for just one more session with her.

 One thing she wished for me was that I would become close to some of the staff here in the way I became close to some of the staff at the nursing home. But here I am not allowed to develop relationships with the staff. I can't ask a certain staff member to take me out. The staff is not required to be friendly.    

There is one staff member who assists me in silence. Ignores me when I speak. I would ask my former therapist how to deal with all of it. How to remain calm when I am annoyed. How to let things roll off my back.  Having someone ignore me is one of my major triggers. My therapist knew this. I wish she were here to advise me.

I don't fit the criteria for behavior therapy. I get on the staff's nerves. There is no box to check for that. I am sure they will find someone. Then the staff and I have work to do. I am anxious to get started.

My therapist and I talked about the loneliness I might experience living here. I said it would not bother me, but I was wrong. Not being connected or interacting with the staff when they take me out is a big deal to me. The staff is connected to their phones.  I remember talking about how that made me feel in a therapy session at the nursing home. 

One more session. She'd encourage me, and help me work on solutions to the difficulties I face here.  She'd be positive, supportive, and caring. She might even give me a figurative kick in the butt.

My therapist gave me all of the tools to make it here. She told me I didn't need her anymore. I want to be the strong, independent woman she believed me to be. I can't let her down.

I became obsessed with watching telenovelas. My therapist helped me with my Spanish. In the last five minutes of each session, we'd converse in Spanish. She conversed more than I did. I tried my best. She taught me the Spanish word for shoes which is Zapatos.  The word  Zapatos is synonymous with her It fits. (pun intended) She wore the coolest shoes

  

 

DISABILITY PRIDE MONTH

Image Found on Tumblr

 July was Disability Pride Month. I had the entire month to write a post about it. I will be honest with you  I was not going to write about it. Until July 31st, a friend told me I'd better get to it.  There were only a few hours of Disability Pride Month left. I was binge-watching  Inventing Anna on Netflix. I took a page from Scarlet O'Hara's book. I told myself that I'd think about it tomorrow.

Yeah, I know, It's August. Better late than never.

Disability Pride Month is a month to celebrate and remember the pioneers of the Disability Rights Movement like those featured in the Netflix documentary Crip Camp.  They fought for inclusion, accessibility, and to be seen and heard.  I admire them. I  respect them. I thank them. Celebrate Disability Pride?   I was just not feelin' it.

I am not proud of my CP nor am I ashamed of it.  My CP just is. I don't want or need to draw attention to the fact that I am different, that I need care 24/7, and can't do the most basic things without assistance. Why draw attention to the obvious? Celebrate that?  No thanks.  

It's kind of an oxymoron.  People with disabilities spend eleven months out of the year saying they're just like everyone else.  The same. But when July comes around the message changes to, "I have a disability. Celebrate it. Celebrate me.  Look at what I have overcome."

People who wear glasses don't get a month to celebrate that wearing them improves their vision. (Let's celebrate those peepers.)  

I would rather draw attention to my writing ability than my disability but that's just me. 

The ADA was not passed until 1990.  I began my part-time job in 1989. I fought for my college and grad school education. I had people who believed in me enough to turn an idea into a part-time job. The ADA did not exist, and yet I got a job. That is what I would celebrate. 

Enough of my ranting. In July of 2023 knock yourselves out. Have parades, marches, whatever. Celebrate being disabled. I won't be  participating 

I will celebrate my accomplishments, not because of, but rather despite. the fact that I have CP.

I love this video. I aspire to be like Paul. 

Rest in Peace. March 11, 2024.

 

TALK IS CHEAP

 

How important is talking to and connecting to one another in our society? 

Think about it. If there were no conversations, no exchange of ideas, or if the human race did not show interest in or care about one another the Earth would be a boring planet inhabited by a bunch of selfish human beings. There would be no scientific, technological, or medical discoveries to help the human race evolve. We'd be a planet of cavemen fighting and clubbing each other over the head for food and water. Communicating in grunts. How attractive.

How important do you think talking to someone with a disability is?  People with disabilities are ignored all the time. The more severe an individual's disability is the more likely they are to be ignored when they are in a group. What could they possibly contribute to a conversation?  

How important do you think is it to have a connection and to be able to have an open dialogue with the people who care for those of us with disabilities?

How important is it that the caregiver and the client listen to and respect each other?

How important is continuity of care to a person with a disability?  

I am not going to give you an answer. I want you to think about each question. I want you to think about how you would feel if you had caregivers and some of them treated you like you were just a body. 

How nervous might you be if a new staff member was starting and they have never worked with you before?  They have never assisted someone in using the bedpan at night?  The administration moves the staff around. Clients have no say. That's weird because we live here We have to interact with the staff. The administration does not.

I was in the hospital overnight in 2019. The nurses talked to me, they checked on me, and, if they got a call on their cell, while in my room, they did not answer it. Their focus was on me, my needs, and what they could do to make me comfortable.  I asked one of the nurses if I could live there.

I want to thank the SC for taking me with her, while she ran errands, for the past two weeks. We talked and laughed. I felt normal. I felt like a person. 

I want to thank any staff member who takes the time to talk to me. To listen to me.  The staff who does not have their noses buried in their cellphones. Thank you for your help. Thank you for showing compassion toward me.

These have been the most difficult four years of my life. All I really want is for God to call me. I want to spend Enternity on the fluffiest cloud ever. Until then I am proud. I am making it,  I am surviving. I  am not giving up. That's what having a disability is all about.

FYI: The new overnight staff person is awesome. Very kind. She knows her stuff. She does not want me to worry.  Change can be good. #learningandgrowing

Communication is everything to me.

And, it's free

 

LAND OF THE FREE?

I haven't felt like writing a post. I can't write a Fourth of July post about what a great country I live in.  There are cracks in its foundation. In my opinion, democracy is beginning to crumble.

A woman's constitutional right to control her body was overturned with the repeal of Roe v. Wade. The government now has control over a woman's uterus. (on a state-by-state basis. My state is red. I am ashamed.) I am not for or against it.  I am pro-choice. A woman's choice is between her and God. It should be no one else's business/

Setting this country back fifty years is the first crack in its foundation. What will be next? Any group that doesn't fit the norm?  And, why do nine justices get to determine what the norm is? 

What will be the fate of those of us with disabilities? When you receive government assistance the government reserves the right to have a say in almost everything you do.

The Ugly Laws were repealed in 1974.  

https://confessionsofadisableddiva.blogspot.com/2021/04/ugly-laws.html  

If these laws were ren instated my presence or the presence of any one of my disabled peeps won't offend anyone. Keep us locked away or warehouse us in institutions. We are a burden on society anyway. What's the difference?

This attitude possibly becoming the nom is what scares me the most.

 

Women, you must keep fighting for your reproductive rights. LGBTQ+  community, keep fighting to be seen by everyone as the unique and beautiful people you are. No one has the right to judge how you live your life.

And to my disabled peeps. We've been fighting to be seen, heard, and equal our whole lives. We can't give up now.

I used to be proud of this country. I still love the principles it was founded on. I hope they are not disappearing.

Our freedom is in jeopardy.  I hope the tide turns before it is too late.

“Women belong in all places where decisions are being made." Ruth Bader Ginsburg

THIS

IT'S NOT POLITICS...IT'S PEOPLE

It takes a monster to kill children. But to watch monsters kill children again and again and do nothing isn’t just insanity—it’s inhumanity. -Amanda Gorman-

REPEAL THE SECOND AMENDMENT

WHAT WOULD ALI DO?

Borrowed from Ali Wentworth's Instagram
(Stolen is such an ugly word.)

I want to write like actress/writer Ali Wentworth. She can find the funny side of almost anything. I want to have the ability to have sharp, funny comeback lines that will stop people in their tracks. Make them either laugh or cry. Hopefully the former. (Although, in some instances, the latter would work too.)

I envision Ali Wentworth's glass to have the tiniest of hairline cracks in it. Her glass, I am sure, is full of snappy comebacks and a plethora of witty lines to handle whatever life throws at her.

Me?  (Well, have you read my blog?) not so much. My glass is not half, empty, half full, or cracked.  My glass has disappeared.  My thoughts, words. and emotions spilled out with nowhere to go. 

If Ali Wentworth had been blessed/with spastic CP, I have no doubt she would find humor in it. For example, when a new staff member saw her sitting naked in her shower chair, while they observed her being given a shower, Ali would probably say something like, "Shouldn't we go to the movies first? Share a tub of buttered popcorn?"

If a staff member called her the B-word under their breath I bet Ali would interpret it as a compliment instead of a vulgarity.  "Why thank you. A bit** is a female dog. I love dogs. I have two. Cooper and Daisy."  Yep. That line would stop them dead in their tracks. Leaving the offender speechless. Mouth agape. (The offending staff member has been reprimanded.)

Me? I collapse into a puddle of tears. My ugly cry leaves them secretly laughing at me. (Score one for the staff.)

I have a rich fantasy life. Hey, don't judge. It helps me cope with living here. (It's either that or a daily shot of Fireball. Making up scenarios in my head is more fun.)

 My current fantasy is that I am having lunch with Ali Wentworth. She has been asked to give the commencement address at a local university. I am honored to be lunching with her at Wasabi Sushi Bar. (Was there ever any doubt? California and Philadelphia rolls. Yum!)  I silently remind myself to remember to take small bites, to wipe my mouth frequently, and if any of my food needs to be cut up, ask the server, not Ali.

Ali is giving me some pointers on putting a dose of humor into my writing.  A serious blog post does not have to be all doom and gloom. I know this. Finding a balance is the key Ali is offering her advice regarding some comeback lines for the times the staff is rude to me as well. 

There is so much I want to ask her. A million topics are running through my head.

Best/worst thing about growing up in Washington, D.C.? 

When did she first realize she had a gift for making people laugh? 

Does she have plans to write another book?

Has she ever considered writing a novel?

How long is the writing process for one of her books?  

What makes her chocolate chip cookies unique?   

I want to learn from Ali Wentworth. I keep it professional. I don't want to sound like some geeky fangirl. I refrain from mentioning her husband.  Morning talk show host and political commentator for ABC News, George Stephanopoulos. No matter how intelligent and good-looking I think he is. (Did I just write that?  So much for keeping it professional.)

What would Ali do if she had spastic CP?

What does Ali try to do in her life?

She looks for and finds humor.

For More information on Ali Wentworth, and to add a little humor to your life, check out:

Books  https://www.amazon.com/Ali-Wentworth/e/B001KDS28I/ref=aufs_dp_fta_dsk

Podcast Go Ask Ali.  Available on all popular streaming platforms

Instagram  https://www.instagram.com/therealaliwentworth/

Her 2016 TV series, Nightcap, is currently streaming on Hulu

I BEG TO DIFFER

 

Thomas Wolfe's novel You Can't Go Home Again was published in  1940.  According to the website, Book Browse the title of his novel means "If you try to return to a place you remember from the past it won't be the same as you remember it."

 

I beg to differ.

Back in January, I sent an email to my top three of my besties. My nursing home peeps Julie, Chris, and Nancy. I asked them if they would celebrate my birthday with me.

I knew asking was presumptuous of me. That's why my finger hovered over the keyboard mouse, on my laptop for a few seconds before I clicked send.

Then the what-ifs began running through my head. What if they thought my request was a ploy just to get gifts? What if they were too busy? What if they just did not feel like making the trip?  What if sending that email turned out to be one of the most foolish things I'd ever done?

What was I expecting? My friends had moved on to new journeys in their lives. Even the nursing home had changed its name and management. Everyone and everything had changed except me. We all know you can't turn back the clock. That was, however, what I was hoping for. That was what I wanted more than anything.

And, that's exactly what I got. When my three besties arrived It was like we had never been apart. We talked. We laughed. Julie held my Margarita for me while I munched on vegan snacks. Chris called me Jojo, and, Nancy sat next to me. What more could I have asked for?  

Julie, Chris, and Nancy are like family to me. All three have been my sounding board and my advocate. They have defended me. They had also kicked my butt when I needed it. 

The three of them saw some of my worst moments when I lived in LTC. They could have washed their hands off me. They didn't. I am so grateful.

The hours the four of us spent together on that sunny Saturday in April, were some of the happiest I have had in a long time. I felt a genuine warmth. A sense of belonging. 

I was back in room 502 for a little while. Memories like these ran through my mind.

Chris walks by and throws something into my room. "What was that?  I asked her.  "A ball of snot, " she replies. "You get right back in here and pick that up," I yell. I punctuated my response with the expected,  "Eww." Chris runs back into my room, picks up the aforementioned ball of snot, also known as a wad of crumpled paper, and walks out the door laughing. 

Julie is listening to me ask the same burning question for the hundredth time that week. "Where's the Oikos Greek Yogurt? Yoplait is gross." She never once tells me my repeated questions are annoying to her. She explains to me for the hundredth that my fave yogurt has not come in yet. That same afternoon Juile asks me to play dietary bingo. Ugh.The things I do for my friends. I have to admit I had fun.

Nancy stops by my room before she goes home. We talk about my fear of getting a roommate now that I am on Medicaid.  "No, No, No. They're not going to give you a roommate." I know she is trying her best to keep me in my private room. I know her door is always open to me if there is a problem. If I just need to talk.  Knowing that makes me feel better.

I beg to differ Thomas Wolfe, sometimes you can go home again,

As I write this post I am wearing my sushi socks, I look over at my fridge adorned with photos of us. There are several more on the wall. Pictures of the three of us being goofy. Being us.

I love my sushi magnets. Who needs real sushi anyway? 

It was an awesome day with awesome friends. 

If I had not been a resident of LTC I never would have met them.

I would have missed out on their knowledge. I would have missed out on some new experiences. I would have missed out on their friendships

 

 

TODAY'S POSITIVE

I am excited to announce a new feature I will be adding to the end of every one of my blog posts from this point forward. It's called  Today's Positive.

I will write a positive statement about said blog post so that anyone reading my blog finishes a post feeling a little better than they did before having read it. 

I want my readers to take away positive vibes from my future posts. Even the ones that, on your first read, appear to be anything but positive. I have come to the realization that there is something positive even in the negative. I just have to look for it.

I added a Today's Positive statement at the end of my last post. You have to read the post again to find out what it is. Sneaky aren't I?

https://confessionsofadisableddiva.blogspot.com/2022/04/forgiving-myself.html 

I may just tell you something positive that happened to me.

 I parked my chair at the end of the street to watch the cars go by on the road in front of me. I met two sweet dogs who were on walks with their humans. I asked if I could pet them. My new friends' names are Riley and Sadie.   Their humans? I did not catch their names. They were very kind and friendly though. I met our mail lady too. She was smiling. Very friendly. All of this made my day

This afternoon friends are stopping by. Two friends I will be meeting for the first time. Until today we have only communicated via social media. They are friends of a friend of a friend of mine. Tomorrow I will see my nursing home besties for the first time in three years. I am anticipating lots of laughter.

Stay tuned for more of Today's Positive. I am excited. I hope you are too.

FORGIVING MYSELF

Whatever it is.

Forgive yourself.

You did your best.

Let it go.

Will Bowen

If you are anything like me you have a hard time forgiving yourself. You beat yourself up trying to fix things. Make everything right. You want approval. You want acceptance. You are probably nothing like me. You probably do not give a flying fig what anyone thinks of you. You are my hero.

The major thing I need to forgive myself for is moving here. I did not listen when I was told it would be a mistake. I have been told this organization has never had a client like me. Someone who is her own advocate., Someone who has tried to promote positive change. 

I talked with a staff member recently about how I felt when they are on the phone while providing my care. They did not get it. I am done. The staff wants me to change to accommodate them. I forgive myself for failing to do so. 

I forgive myself for causing staff members here to leave. I was told a long time ago that I do not have the power to cause staff to leave.  Their behavior is the cause of their choice to leave. 

I forgive myself. I did not follow the rules. My friends did not follow the rules when visiting. The staff is not required to offer assistance in any way when I have guests. They are not required to wash dishes when friends visit. My friends were called rude. Neither my friends nor I were aware of this rule. Now we are. 

When I host a gathering at this house I must extend an invitation to my housemates. I must forgive myself. My sincere apologies to my housemates as well as this organization  I have two gatherings coming up. After those are over I will meet my friends outside of this house  

I forgive myself for talking about my friends. The staff is sick of hearing about them. They are also tired of hearing about my dreams. My dreams are what keep me going. Without dreams, we die

I forgive myself for crying all day when I am upset or my feelings have been hurt. I can't let things go, These are called my behaviors I want to talk it out. If I report anything the staff won't talk to me. That's what I am dealing with today. Silence.

I forgive myself for not responding properly when the staff tells me to shut up. I was told to tell them to shut up right back. I will not stoop to their level. I have been told, unless someone puts their hands on me, to let it go. They are just words.

We have a great staff here. They are all about keeping us safe. I forgive myself for the times I questioned  their authority and judgment 

I own my mistakes. I own my behavior. I can't carry the burden forever. I forgive myself. 

I forgive myself for stalling in regard to changing my living situation. I have said many times that I stay for my big room and bathroom. I am scared. I know it is coming.

Today's Positive: I have a large room and a toilet to myself. That is so much more than many elderly people and people with disabilities have.  #grateful 

65 BIRTHDAYS

65 birthdays. I am excited.

 In a few days, I will have celebrated 65 birthdays.  I will be celebrating with friends I have not seen in a few years. I know we'll have an amazing time.

When I was young my birthday represented another year to accomplish all the things I wanted to do.

It also meant trying to hit as many restaurants as we could. The goal?  To get as many free birthday desserts as we could. Free dessert? My mom was in. 

Our conversation went something like this:

"Mom, my birthday was a week ago." "What"s the difference? They don't know that," she"d reply. Mom's birthday was two weeks after mine. That meant the free dessert thing would go on another week or two after hers. I would be so embarrassed.  Now it makes me laugh. There was, however, one stipulation. No singing, please. The servers at a restaurant sang Happy Birthday to me once. I was mortified.

65 birthdays. I am tired. I am over having caregivers. I am so done with hearing their phone conversations while they care for me. I am over them scrolling through their Internet feed. I have tried to explain how it makes me feel. They don't get it. I feel these activities are more important to them than I am. I am over being cursed at, yelled at, and ignored when I speak to my caregivers.

My caregivers are amazing people. I like them. They are smart and funny. I do not always like their behavior.

I do not look forward to sharing a room in an LTC facility.  While there is more staff in a nursing home,  the space must be shared. I know that and I accept that. I hope to become a volunteer at a nursing home. I have a lot to offer. I hope I will be allowed to prove that. I want to be a part of the LTC community again,   

I miss my mom. I don't know what God has in store for me, but I guess God is not ready to call me. I have asked him to. I hope whatever his plan for me is I make Him as well as myself proud.

I want to do something meaningful for the remainder of my life. I want kindness and understanding from those who take care of me, The majority of the staff that I met when I was a nursing home resident were extremely kind and helpful. I am still in contact with many of them.

Two celebrations. My friends and I will eat, drink (The margaritas will be flowing.), and be merry. Meaning I want to laugh until I can't catch my breath. I want my 65th birthday to be epic. I want to forget about all the negativity. I want to focus on the positive. I want to be happy 

65 birthdays, 65 years. Can you believe it? I am still here.

Does anyone have a Margarita?  Let's get this party started.

To contribute to my fundraiser for VOYCE:

 https://www.facebook.com/donate/483527216847648/7537983182909035/ 

To learn more about VOYCE:

https://www.voycestl.org/

.

MY VIRTUAL VACAY

I see palm trees. I see white sand. I see water so sparkling clear that when the sun's rays bounce off of it I am momentarily blinded by its intensity. Sitting in my beach wheelchair I am close enough to the water's edge to feel the cool water lap at my does and the squishy sand between them. Bliss.

Healthline Medical

I am sipping a Margarita and eating sushi.  A Mariachi band is playing in the distance. I watch the sunset in hues of purple with a hint of pink, orange, and gold. It is God's masterpiece.

 The most handsome man I have ever seen sits at the table where I am sitting sipping my drink. (He'll realize his mistake in a minute. He will make a clumsy attempt to apologize for his error before retreating never to be seen again.)

He seems not to notice my disability/powerchair. He also does not notice that I am sipping my cocktail through a straw. Or, if he has seen it, it does not seem to bother him. 

What is wrong with this dude?  Any other man would have bailed the minute he saw me. 

A powerchair does not attract. A powerchair repels.

www.tripsavvy/com  

 We begin chatting. We discover that we share many of the same interests. Movies.  Music. Art.  We both have great admiration for the artist Frida Kahlo. I tell him that It has been a dream of mine to visit La Casa Azul.  "That is the main reason I have traveled to Mexico, " I tell him.

"I have a friend who works as a tour guide at La Casa  Azul. I could arrange a private tour for you if you like. Tomorrow?" he asks. (I knew that he was a local because of his accent and how handsome he was. Muy, muy guapo. Omg. I hope my mouth didn't fall open when he asked.)

"That"s very kind of you, " I said. I get so nervous by his offer that I start to cough. My words sputter out between coughs. Nothing is more attractive than watching a disabled woman choke on her own spit. He'll surely head for the hills now.

He waits until my coughing fit ends before saying, "I would be happy to make the arrangements for you. I have one request, however, (I knew there would be a catch.) May I  join you on your tour of the museum?"

Wait. What did he just say?  I silently promise myself that I will look into getting that hearing aid. I must've misunderstood him.  He repeats his question. No need for that hearing aid. I understood him perfectly the first time.

A million thoughts run through my mind. The one at the forefront is What will my PCA Trish say? Trish has given me my freedom on this trip. However, allowing a man I know nothing about to accompany us to the museum would test her limits.

"Why?" I ask bluntly.

"Por queue?" he asks.

"We've just met. I am guessing you saw me sitting alone and thought you'd be kind to the woman with the disability. Do your good deed for the day. Am I right?" I can feel my anger growing. This has happened too many times in my life. I let my guard down. In return, I got a massive broken heart.

"You could not be more wrong. I saw a beautiful woman sitting alone. She looked like someone I would like to get to know. I was wrong. Even though we have a lot in common, you are too angry. You are too negative.  I like positivity. Your disability is a non-issue as far as I am concerned. I was taught not to judge people on outward appearances. To see the person first. My name is Diego. Rodriguez. I  manage the main restaurant in this hotel. Mucho gusto," he said, shaking my hand and then dropping his business card in my lap to prove he was telling the truth. 

"Nice to meet you," I reply. I tell him my name. My head is down. I avert his eyes. My voice comes out in a whispered embarrassed tone.

"If you'll excuse me my break is over/ I must return to my duties at the restaurant." Diego begins walking away.

"Diego wait. I would be honored to have you join me on my tour of La Casa Azul," I tell him.

I finish my Margarita. Hit the joystick of my powerchair and begin the walk back to my room where Trish I waiting to help me get ready for bed. How was I going to explain my evening to her?

It took all night to convince Trish I had not lost my mind. She kept repeating that question over and over.  It was five in the morning before Trish gave in and we finally got to sleep.  Diego and I had agreed to meet at the museum at ten o'clock.  There would be no time for an extra few minutes of sleep this morning. Wake up, do my morning routine, and head to the museum. 

. 

Wikimedia Commons Peter Anderson

 Diego was standing at the accessible entrance waiting for us when we arrived at the museum. I introduced Trish to Diego. I could see her stern demeanor soften as she shook his hand.  Diego introduced his friend, our tour guide, to us.

I loved La Casa Azul with its vibrant colorful kitchen. The rooms were left as they were when Frida Kahlo lived there. I  definitely felt her presence.

My favorite area was the courtyard and garden. I imagine Frida sitting in the garden alone enjoying the quiet while her beloved monkeys and birds keep her company. I imagined her entertaining guests in the courtyard. Enjoying relaxed conversation in the same way Diego, Trish, and I were doing now.

Our tour ended much too soon. I promised myself I'd find a way to return to The Blue House someday. Diego said he had to get back to work. He invited Trish and me to dinner at his restaurant that night, our last night in Mexico. Tomorrow we would board our flight home. The magic of Mexico would end.

"Thank you for the invitation, but I am tired. I have to pack. You two enjoy the evening without me," Trish told us. I give her a grateful look.

"I will reserve a table for us, he says, nodding to me. I told him that I would be sitting at the table where we met at six o'clock. "We will have cocktails on the patio. Then I will escort you inside to our table," Diego tells me.

Our last evening together was better than anything I could have imagined. The sun was setting as we sipped our drinks. My final sunset in Mexico did not disappoint.  

We went inside to find the chef had prepared a feast for us. Everything from taquitos,, and fish tacos to a vegetarian stew. For dessert, flan, and churros with a rich chocolate sauce for dipping.

We learned about one another in the two days we spent together. The most surprising thing for us was how much we would miss each other. We promised to email and video chat with each other. Diego promised to visit me.  We had no idea what the future would bring. Life was not about guarantees.  

We finished dinner, and the patio was illuminated by tiny white lights strung through the trees. We sat in silence. I knew it was getting late. We had an early flight in the morning.  "I should go," I told him.

. 

Diego was wearing a pin on his lapel of the flag of Mexico. He removed it from his lapel, placing it in my hand. We kissed. Then he was gone leaving me staring down at the pin in my hand wondering if the past few days had been real or only a dream.

"Feet, what do I need them for. If I have wings to fly.” ― Frida Kahlo  

Artist Louise Gustafson