I have lived happily, independently, and triumphantly from my chariot (wheelchair) for thirty-six years now. I have worked as a speech and language pathologist with special children, dabbled in interior design, designed and built my wonderfully accessible home, hosted a multitude of international exchange students (You can read about them in the “Bless This Home” chapter of my book, Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity http://booklocker.com/books/6235.html.), counseled teens and young women in a life coach capacity (as well as boosting their self-confidence through make-over workshops), ran an antiques home gallery, and design(ed) jewelry.
When it comes to entertainment, beauty, and joy, I’m not a high-maintenance kind-of-girl. I am entertained by a good book, an old movie, or stimulating conversation. I find beauty in the simple things, like nature’s seasonal raiment, and sunshine. Living a blessed life brings me joy. But, I’m not going to lie: some days, it sucks living with a disability.
Routinely, the first delight of my day begins by feeding and loving on my 3 cats. Everyone is hungry, wants to play, be brushed, and have one-on-one time.
Once satisfied, the boys–Fred Astaire and Laptop–scamper onto the screened-in porch to relish nature’s activities. Before hitting the office to write and research, or whatever else is on the day’s agenda, I have my espresso and spend more time with Ciati, my only female feline.
Then, there are the occasional days that my body rebels from wrongly used and over-worked muscles. Because I overcompensate, I tend to tense the trapezius muscle in my upper back and my arm’s biceps brachii. This causes painful knots to develop in these muscles. It’s the biceps brachii I misuse to balance, transfer, dress, lift and pour, and type—not their normal uses. Once I realize my overuse, it takes a good three days to heal before I can painlessly use them again.
On such a day this week, a monstrous house spider (Sorry, God. I do not, not, NOT like spiders.) blatantly crept into my kitchen.
I’m OCD about spiders. I know that they are uninvited pests in everyone’s home. I’m fine if I don’t see one; out-of-sight, out-of-mind. But when I do see one, I don’t allow it out of my sight until I have read its rights…or, let me just say, “The last thing on its mind is reading material.”
With focused contempt, I scanned the room for a book or magazine to drop on it, which is exactly what I did. SPLAT!
Whether with a bow-and-arrow, shotgun, handgun, or horseshoes, I was an excellent shot. I may not manually hold any of the above anymore, but I can still judge speed and distance.
It requires skill and strategy to heave the written word in such a way that it lands horizontally on a scurrying target. This takes the printing “press” to a whole ‘nother level. Don’t you agree?
Even though I wasn’t up to par, and that spider stealthily deliberated its exodus, I assuredly dared, with squinted eyes and a frown, “Make my day.”
I felt much better.