Gathering my Courage

Until my mobility became more limited, I never understood how much courage it took for a disabled person to just leave the house.

There's so much I took for granted that now I have to consider in detail whenever I go anywhere.

Can I get my wheelchair out by myself? (It's 50 pounds)

Will there be someone who can help me get it back in the car? What if no one's walking by? (Also, the embarrassment of having to ask a total stranger for help)

Will there be snow? Wheelchairs have wheels -- they don't maneuver well AT ALL in even the smallest dusting of snow.

What if the curbs aren't ramped? I might have to drive on the street.... (A bump of 1" is impassable for the front castors without significant help. Also, wheeling on a street when I am below sight level for any car backing up or pulling out is ... terrifying)

All this fear runs through my head parallel to the excitement of going shopping by myself. (I am an introvert. Going shopping by myself tops my list of Things To Pamper Myself)

Case in point, the other morning, I had a haircut appointment downtown. I got out my Huli-Huli (wheelchair) by myself (Yay!) and turned it on. Very low battery. (Oh no!)

Drove myself down the beautifully renovated downtown sidewalk, that has FANTASTIC ramps onto the sidewalk (Yay!) and got to my hair salon. Asked if I could charge my chair while I get my haircut. My chair won't turn back on. (Oh no!)

So here I sit, feeling conflicting emotions that batter at my courage. It's a beautiful space. The sun is shining, there is pleasant music playing and everyone is so kind.

-- but I'm stuck here if the battery is dead. 

My car is a flurrying (my personal f-word) block away, and I can't even get there. I can literally see it from where I sit. I'm close to tears. I feel so pathetic. 

But then, my husband comes to my rescue and swings by.  He takes one look at it, presses the power button, and it immediately turns on, just as it should (Yay!)

And then the full weight of my see-sawing, turbulent emotions crashes down on me, because it is at that moment I realize - I had been pressing the wrong button the whole time. 

Ugh. I'll go on more solitary excursions again, just . . . not till until after I regain some equilibrium.