Best Laid Plans

Yesterday I was meant to be moving from Virginia to the new house (new to me) in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Oh well.

Instead, I was sitting in a doctor’s office waiting to hear how long I would need to rest (what is the verb for "convalescence"?). I went into the hospital with pneumonia on December 19^th and came out 20 pounds lighter December 31^st.

Moving is not the problem. The problem is the three days of talking that will be required to interview and hire new personal care assistants. I’ve got very limited energy and air. Even with oxygen, I get winded pretty fast.

So the moving date is postponed and we try all of this again in a few weeks.  

Still Stranded

Well, today I rearranged the icons on my smart phone. Twice. I took a nap and sent out for lunch.

I really, really, really need to get back to work. A little vacation is fine but this is BORING.

We live in such an instant age that it never occurred to me that anything would require more than two or three days to fix. In the past, I've always done loaner wheelchairs or loaner cars. I guess it's pretty difficult to find a loaner elevator.

I expect I would be more upset if I didn't live next door to a fire hall. I've already talked to them about getting me out if there were a real emergency.

We've considered trying to get me down steps in a manual wheelchair but the real problem is getting back up. Plus, I don't even want to think about going up/down the steep fire steps. There have been times in the last 35 years when I have had to be carried up/down steps in my electric wheelchair. Absolutely terrifying. Pretending to be Cleopatra doesn't help much.

Over and above my own fear, I worry about what that kind of stress actually does to the wheelchair or to the backs and legs of the folks schlepping me around. What would I do if  part of the wheelchair just came apart? What would the people underneath me do?

So, I'll just be stuck here for a while longer.

I Don't Do Stairs

Friday morning, I got up, got washed, got dressed, ate breakfast, and left for work. I made it about 200 feet. Right by the elevator button was a large sign printed in black magic marker "OUT OF ORDER." Panic and telephone calls.

I cannot stress too strongly how difficult it is for a school to find substitute teachers at the very last minute. I only live 5 min. from work so I generally leave the apartment about 30 min. before my first class starts.

Lucky for me, the office staff at my school are quick witted and my coworkers are generous. Several folks agreed to give up their planning periods to cover my classes.

I have spent a lot of time in the last 20 years assisting people with disabilities to plan for emergencies. I have written and spoken on the subject!

However, not once since I moved to this apartment (on the second floor with only one elevator) have I considered the possibility of an elevator failure.

Forest. Trees. Enough said.