Tag: independence

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An Apple A Day and Disability Aids

With the prevalence of computers, laptops, ipads, mobile devices, and all their gizmos, it sometimes seems that the state of our society is grim.

By the radical technology of the 21st century, we (able-bodied and disabled) appear advanced and are technologically savvy. But, how can we read another’s honesty, integrity, or motivation by relating over a “device.” One-on-one, eyeball-to-eyeball communications are being sacrificed. Learning to interpret interactive body language and the associative heart-mind connections is becoming a lost life-line.

Are we becoming a robotic society?

On the other hand, one can travel faster than a cheetah’s 60mph in three seconds with the touch of a mouse; can explore foreign lands without making reservations…deciding what to pack…waiting in lines, risk, hassle, and expense-free; earn a degree; have a world of knowledge at our fingertips.

As well, today’s mobile apps not only afford mindless amusement but can provide driving directions for travel and beyond to expand horizons.

For those of us living with a disability, there are iphone apps for providing helplines and medical care, apps for functional movement and alignment of prosthetics for the disabled, language learners for learning new languages, as well as providing expressive vocalization for the nonverbal, blind, and physically paralyzed.

The first bite out of the apple wasn’t such a good idea. However, that company with a bite-out-of-the-apple logo is a good thing!

Here I am talking to you on a lighted screen. Via whatever device, you’re reading my letter at home, at work, in transit, or as you wait.

I’m grateful to be communicating. I’m thankful I have a message. And, like many of you who are confined or shut-in due to SCI, illness, injury, or disease, I’m blessed to have a worldwide avenue where my words can travel into cyber space with an echo you can hear.
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I hope you’re not just reading my words. I hope you hear what I’m saying in my letters to you, because Conversations with Cynthia aren’t conversations until you reply.

Let’s talk. I miss hearing back from you.  

R.S.V.P. with your “comments,” questions, and reviews on my books.

P.S. Don’t forget to enlist for my monthly newsletters with health hints and humor for whatever ails you! (After enlisting by adding your email address, remember to confirm my email to you.) 

 

 

 

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SCI Grenades: Weapons of Mass Distraction

For you fellow SCIs, or other involved, animal lovers who have one trouble-making “alpha,” this is my harmless, but effective, ammunition for breaking up pet fights. (I was bullied into its invention because I can’t squeeze a spray bottle to interrupt unwanted behaviors.) Before I get to it, everyone else has to hear my short spiel:

Becoming a pet owner is a big responsibility, and research is tantamount before adopting.

I’m a proponent of adopting from shelters. Even though most are Heinz 57 varieties, you can identify a predominant breed characteristic. Thus said, breed types, temperaments, longevity, veterinary bills (annuals, neutering or spaying, health issues), must be taken into consideration. Too many pets are chosen on looks alone, then rejected because they’re destructive (meaning bored with no exercise), require too much attention, need veterinary care, and/or aren’t suited for the owner/family’s lifestyle.

Please, know that animals should be an integral part of your life, not a possession you tire of, ignore, or abuse. As He did us, God created them on the sixth day and saw that “…it is very good.”

Fred Astaire-the debonair
Fred Astaire-the debonair

Now, to my feline “boys,” Fred Astaire and Laptop. (I dedicated the chapter, “A Little Bit of Heaven,” in Views From My Chariot http://booklocker.com/books/6235.html  to my pets. You know they’re exceptional!)

Fred was a feral I tamed. Two years later, I saved Laptop from being euthanized. All went well until Laptop turned three or four; I can’t remember exactly.

Initially, the skirmishes were tame. They would start out as brotherly grooming—Laptop ministering to Fred. Things were copasetic for a time…until Laptop (a head taller and five pounds heavier) began exercising his alpha-ness.

Laptop begins lovingly grooming Fred’s head and ears then, atypically, body slams Fred to the floor, deceptively licking all the while.

Laptop's deceptive "come hither"
Laptop’s deceptive “come hither”

Fred’s a lover not a fighter, so he complies. But somehow, during the body slam, Laptop maneuvers into a tactical spooning position over Fred as he licks. Fred complains ever so slightly until…with all four paws embracing Fred in a body hold, Laptop goes for the jugular.

If you could feel it, Fred’s screeching would send chills up your spine! The aftermath of cat fur looks like evidence of a feather pillow fight.
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Here’s my SCI-approved device for interrupting an all-out fight, equivalent to the ding-ding-ding of the boxing round timer: an empty 16 oz. plastic water bottle loaded with 5-10 pennies.

Normally, a rigorous shake is enough to send them running in opposite directions. But, when the battle has reached a screeching fever pitch, it’s expedient to hurl the device into their midst.

Since I can’t hop out of bed to break up night skirmishes, I’m armed with three in my bed; otherwise, one is in my kitchen and one, in my office. There have also been surprise attacks when I have thrown whatever liquid was in my hand. Clean-ups suck!

I digress. This morning, Laptop had two of his “Submit!” demonstrations over Fred. I was semi-armed for the second.

The skirmish erupted in the kitchen at the east end of my six foot long table. I was at the opposite end without a grenade, but my vitamin bottles were out for my week’s daily dosages. I grabbed the nearest, shook it for all it was worth, like pulling the pin, and hurled it into the battlefield.

Well, this one wrought a triple whammy of distraction: the warning rattle, the explosive landing, and the shrapnel of 60 vitamins ricocheting everywhere.

It worked! But, instead of running for cover, they acted like drug-sniffing cats.

As penance for not screwing the cap on tightly, I picked up each capsule, one by one; and some, over and over and over. Sort of like writing on the blackboard: “I will tighten my vitamin bottle caps. I will tighten my vitamin bottle caps. I will tighten my vitamin bottle caps…”

I will not soon forget!

 

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No Compute-Grrr

Rarely am I silent, but last week was one of those times, for two reasons: I was without a computer, and I have been on bed rest to avoid a breakdown–SCI side effect: decubidus ulcer, that is. So, this will be short ‘n sweet, ‘cause I’m still on the mend.

I’ve been procrastinating the purchase of a new computer; not that my old one hasn’t given me grief. Let me tell you, “It has!” Especially when preparing my colorful, picturesque monthly newsletter, “Chariot Notes” for you. (I always include something to help simplify your life in “What’s New,” a joke or humorous incident in “Chariot Chuckles,” and a Note from me. I’m missing talking to you if you’re not on board!)

demented computer
demented computer

Anyway, I’m still learning to navigate this digital world, so my brilliant, gracious friend, Amanda, has been tutoring me long-distance. She’s acted as a VERY PATIENT computer instructor. But, on most of our telephone conversations/hands-on instructions, my screen acted like the demented evil identical twin—showing disturbing DISsimilarities to Amanda’s screen and displaying paranormal behaviors, like disappearing (timing out) before I could “save” my time-intensive works and grossly distorting what should be on my screen!

There were times that I was so bullied by my computer’s disruptions, compounded by my physical and mental disabilities, that I was forced to email my contents to Amanda for her to format it for me.

No longer! I bit the financial bullet and charged it. But, the evil twin possessed the new computer’s hard drive by transferring its dementia through the installer’s hands to fry it. I blessed the second computer; it escaped the evil one. Though it talks in a different language, I’m learning to translate!

As for my boring, but expedient, bed rest: you may see my body lying there, but I’m long gone in my imagination on one of my oft’ soul-soaring adventures

http://conversationswithcynthia.com/2012/09/14/soul-soaring-no-wheelchair-needed/    ‎

Let’s meet somewhere. Shall we? ‎

 

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Be Your Favorite Color

Here’s the hook: The only way to find out what “be your favorite color” means is to read my new book, HOW TO BE THE BEST YOU-from A to Z. It’ll be worth it!

My purpose for writing Views…was to share a little of my journey adjusting to disability and to open discouraged hearts with hope. No matter the life interruption, there IS life after. As a follow-up, HOW TO BE THE BEST YOU is to open eyes and minds to discover that purposeful future.

Aware of the many advanced self-improvement books written by highly educated doctors, PhDs, scientists, etc., I decided to write one on an elementary level, a four-part 101, of things that worked for me. I begin with leading clues to discover the real you, and how-to get to know yourself after losing touch.

Part Two is the common denominator for the sober awakening that life has passed us by—the impact of thoughts on physical, spiritual, emotional, and mental health.

Part Three offers 6 states-of-mind to assist in identifying what roadblocks may have detoured you on your journey of self-discovery. They are: boredom, denial, excuses, laziness, fear, and ingratitude.
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And of course, a tongue-in-cheek Part Four on my deep thoughts to stimulate yours. Like, what’s a burp? And, how-to prevent them; as well as, a chapter on the association, connection, and benefit of color in our lives. You CAN be your favorite color!

No matter what has delayed the fulfillment of your destiny—never knowing, parental brainwashing, incident/disability, or forgetting—it’s never too late to discover your north star, your passion and purpose in life.

P.S. Because of the fancy formatting, fun fonts, and novel use of color, HOW TO BE THE BEST YOU http://booklocker.com/books/6811.html  could not be converted for iPad, Nook, and Kindle readers. It’s one-of-a-kind! I’m working on a PDF for you who are digitally addicted.

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GPS For Barriers

Today’s conversation is about barriers–wheelchair accessibility. Realistically, they’ll always be there; it’s important to have an alternate plan when you are confronted by one. I’m prescribing two do-s.

The first do is to b-r-e-a-t-h, not react.

You represent all disabilities. Huffy behavior and hateful words maim our name. If you must show your fanny, moon yourself before addressing the powers that be. Remember: They most probably had no say in accessibility regulations; and, you may be the only disabled person they ever met. Please, make it a pleasant experience.

The second do is: connect to your GPS, Good Problem-solving Skills. Here are a few of my peeves, along with their solutions.

Parking spaces: I know all landscapes can’t be leveled, but at least handicapped parking spaces SHOULD be on level ground. I wouldn’t mind wheeling a block just to avoid a teetering transfer. I love the look of charming cobblestone streets and brick sidewalks, but just like the measured lines in concrete sidewalks, rolling over them ushers in rat-a-tat-tat spasms for me.

Sometimes, this is unavoidable. But, when I have the choice of a handicap park on an incline or a level regular parking space, I choose level and wheel a little further. No big deal.

Air-pump hinge doors into restrooms: I bulldoze through these difficult doors that I otherwise can’t push or pull open. After my first entrapment, I patiently waited for a savior to enter. I now ask assistance from someone behind the sign-in desk or waiting room to listen for my, “Help!” to come rescue me.

When I’m in an auditorium or conference center, I remind a friend or person sitting next to me, “If I’m not back from the restroom in fifteen minutes, PLEASE come release me.”

Commode seats: What’s with the open-ended, horseshoe-shaped commode seats! Good luck? They trap my skirt tails, and their sharp molded edges are painful!
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I have a GPS, but it’s a “Girls only.” (“Comment” me for my solution.) For you guys, it appears to be an anatomically obliging feature.

Hotel rooms: Traveling is always a roll-of-the-dice. I’ve figured out the places where I travel regularly, but for overnight or extended stays, hotel accessibility is like interpretive dance: “You mean what?”

Most hotels are accessible to the letter of the law—national regulations. When I request a roll-in shower, the floor is slanted toward the drain causing me to, literally, spin-a-wheel in my turns, sort of like an out-of-control dance. Then, there are the hotel beds that Jack (in the beanstalk) couldn’t climb into. What are the designers thinking!

Since I always have a travel companion, we call housekeeping for someone to assist them in heaving me into bed at night. Thankfully, I can slide out in the morning.

For those metal-encased glass doors I can’t budge when shopping, I yell to the first eyeball contact: “Can you please help me?” Please and help are good words. I use them often, with gainful returns.

What GPS assist you in circumventing physical barriers?

 

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Pause For A Cause

I don’t talk much about my problems or the disheartening ramifications of my SCI. I take them to God. That’s where I vent my frustration, cry, and fuss. Then miraculously, I can suck it up, redo whatever, or start over. I believe ‘start overs’—second chances—begin in hope. It’s the pauses that make it possible to start over or to cut a new trail in the actualization of new dreams. Let me use the comma as an example.

A comma is a punctuation mark that represents a pause to the eye of the reader. Whether used to delineate a list, give emphasis to a word, separate words and phrases of words, the comma gives clarity of interpretation. Like in the saying, “Life is just, not fair.” the comma clarifies that happenings in life conform to some fact or reason, although they may not be fair.

For instance: My car ran off the road, up an embankment, and flipped back down onto the road, landing upside down on its roof. The wreck was caused by the fact that my rear tires had a blowout. My SCI is its result. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t something I deserved. It happened.

As with the saying example, I used a pause—the comma after “just”—to accept it, re-evaluate, and clarify my options then, reconfigured my old dreams and created new ones.

WITHOUT the comma/pause, the sentence reads: “Life is just not fair.” Have you omitted the pause that could give clarity to your situation/disability/illness? In belligerence or bitterness, have you ricocheted off every hopeful course of action offered to you to better your life, to adjust to disability? Do you find yourself repeatedly boomeranging back to the same bad attitude of ingratitude and self-pity? It’s a self-fulfilling prophesy only you can change.

We ALL experience dashed hopes and broken dreams, but is that any reason to quit hoping, to stop dreaming, or to punish others because you have? Since we’re promised nothing more than today, why not begin today with a clarifying pause.

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In recognizing there is a problem, you open the mental windows for fresh ideas to circulate. The desire to do something about the problem(s) is the door to your freedom. Then, the choice to make the changes puts you on the path to fulfilling your purpose.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             My

My first book, Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair  Oddity http://booklocker.com/books/6235.html , is a beginner course for you to recognize fresh ideas that will revive your hope after a SCI, resuscitate mental clarity for strength to push forward, and encourage you to open the door to a promising future that awaits you.

Once you make the choice to open the door to your future, my second book, HOW TO BE THE BEST YOU-from A to Z, coming SOON http://booklocker.com/books/6811.html,
is somewhat of a follow-up—a how-to find yourself, rediscover your heart, change your ‘stinkin’ thinkin’, and take a detour around the roadblocks to fulfill your destiny.

My hope is that you do. Let me be a part of your turnaround, your start-over, your happiness, and your life’s fulfillment. Then, please tell me about it.

We’ll all benefit from your success!

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I Can Hear With My Eyes Closed

Although it sounds like one, this title is not a “Yogi-ism.” Periodically, don’t we all think like this: that we know more than we do because we’re blind to our offensive behaviors; especially when in the throes of a disabling adjustment?  Where is the disconnect?

I think we can be so self-deluded that we perceive our weaknesses as strengths and our ignorance as wisdom. You don’t know what you don’t know, right? These are our blind spots.

For example: When I moved to Alabama after my SCI, I believed my arrogance was confidence.  It took a friend to tell me, “Cynthia, you think you are God’s gift to Tuscaloosa, but you’re the turd in the punch bowl.” OUCH!

Here me now: If you don’t learn humility, you will be the burr under someone’s saddle and a lot of buckin’ will be goin’ on! Relationships get broken by this rodeo habit.

Un-deniably, our families and long-time friends see us through glasses of our past encumbrances, and hear our weaknesses through ear trumpets[1] (or Bluetooth if you’re technologically current), blind and deaf to the positive progressive changes.

Why? Because they’ve been there observing us through our childhood and adolescent stupidities, poor decisions, irresponsible words, and adult hang-ups.

It takes seven positives to negate one negative. That takes a lot of work; for what?  A family member to ask accusatively concerning positive change in your life, “When did YOU start blah-blah-blahing?” You know, as well as I do, that family suffers short-term memory loss but are champions of long-term memories. Just sayin’….

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It’s difficult enough keeping open communication and trying not to offend in a “normal” relationship. So, what to do when tragedy strikes you or one you love, specifically with SCI?

It isn’t easy and it isn’t simple. It may be complex but it shouldn’t be complicated. (Go to Webster for definitions if you’re puzzled.) When things start to become complicated in my life, I re-evaluate my plan, my intention, and/or my motivation.

Since “it takes a village” for me to independently live my life, if someone who volunteers to help in some capacity has a conflict, or arrangements aren’t squaring up, or I judge that something isn’t important enough to do at that time, I cancel the plan. My wants do not trump another’s ease of living. Too much inconvenience is TOO MUCH.

There are always considerations when living with a disability. Keep your eyes and ears open. Like the title implies, many times there are discrepancies between what we THINK we see and what we THINK we hear.

Open your eyes. It facilitates hearing the truth.

[1] Ear trumpets showed up in the 17th century. (Beethoven used them in his hearing decline.) Because of the stigma associated to old age, they were hidden in fans, walking sticks, and even camouflaged in jewelry.

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When Reality Bites

I’m a dreamer and a visionary. Some call me unrealistic; I’m creative and think out-of-the-box. Some say I’m too particular. I’m an unrelenting doer aka stubborn; and a rebel, because I’m not tied to the status quo.  Since living with a SCI, my body also has a mind of its own.

There are days that my fingers rebel–they don’t want to bend, grip, or squeeze. For those times, I’m realistic. I keep plastic glasses and unbreakable dishes, go without make-up, dress in something that goes over my head, struggle with hygiene issues, and drop LOTS of things.

When my fingers are cooperative, my hands decide to drop what my fingers want to hold, like my litter scooper. That’s when it’s easier waiting 24 hours to, literally, “pick up” hardened clumps of litter from the litter box than to scoop them.

On any of these given days when my reality bites (ramifications of disability), or the day thereafter, you will find one or more of the following items strewn on the floor throughout my home: magazines, books, pens with their to-do list or notebook, pillows, dental picks, my hair brush, my cat groomer, broken glass, scattered espresso grounds with brown streaks of espresso running down my cabinet (and brown wheelchair tracks when I forget they are there); even a meal, partially dried and thoroughly stuck to the floor under my oven. C’est la vie! (That’s life!) Or, that’s (only a SMALL part of) my life.

To add insult to injury, I used to be a neat freak; still am, somewhat. To keep my sanity, and sense of humor, I’ve learned to let go (pun intended) of what I can’t control. That doesn’t mean that I don’t cuss, cry, or throw something in frustration. It simply means: I push on. Quitting isn’t an option. (Read the “I quit. No, wait. Never mind.” chapter in my book, Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity http://booklocker.com/books/6235.html , for expensive frustrations!)

You can call me unrealistic, particular, stubborn, and/or a rebel. I don’t mind; you’ve a right to your opinion. But…

I KNOW: Thinking out-of-the-box to solve daily limitations and their frustrations instead of complaining about my circumstance, has brought me contentment and peace.
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I KNOW: Being persistent and determined to live as independently as possible instead of expecting someone else to take care of me, has given me that independence. I’m grateful for it.

I KNOW: In respecting my life and well-being more than fearing other’s judgement of how I live it, I am gratefully responsible for, and happily free to reach, my potential.

I KNOW: As a result of dreaming and believing in my abilities instead of succumbing to a disability, I’m living my purpose.

Are you?

When reality bites, bite back…with a bulldog grip!

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Wheelchair Pathfinder

This is an excerpt from my ebook that you can instantly download FREE with your subscription to my ezine. COMING SOON!

When I was five or six years old, someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Without hesitation, I said, “A boy.” As adults, we laugh at children’s cute misconceptions. We know it isn’t going to happen. Then, somewhere amidst the journey from innocence into adulthood, the majority of us arrive unfulfilled, bothered and bewildered of the cause. We wonder: How did I get off my path? What is my calling? What is my purpose?

Carolyn Weiss says it best. She says it’s never too late to get back on your life path. If you are alive and breathing, you have a purpose.

I have always been an explorer, much like my Daniel Boone-esque, frontiersman, explorer dad. (You can read the wild stories about him in my book, particularly the “That Was Then” chapter.) Back in my walking days, I spent endless hours exploring concealed paths off country dirt roads, ambling amidst woods, discovering hidden swimming holes, and forgotten Civil War grave yards. Occasionally, forgetting my compass, I lost my way. Of course, I always found my way back—I’m here to tell you about it. But, they were daunting times in unfamiliar places. It required maintaining control over my emotions—to stay calm and focused—search for familiar landscape, and persevere until I recognized my path.

I have ALWAYS been a writer. Growing up, other ambitions, and other’s ambitions for me, clouded my thinking, causing me to diverge from my path. Like the blinking arrows >>>>> direct a driver to merge into another lane, thoughts of becoming a nun (yep), an archeologist, Ms. America, a linguist, a famous actress, an Airline stewardess (to name of few), kept detouring me from who I was—a writer and teacher.

Because I never listened to my heart, I didn’t know who I was. My persona became whatever this noggin head imagined I wanted to do.

I entered and won beauty pageants until retiring my last three crowns at nineteen. I took Latin, Spanish, Italian, and French until I realized it took more dedication than I was willing to give. I majored in Speech and Theater until my interest in phonetics changed my path into becoming a speech and language pathologist. (This was God’s plan, after all. It was a trick up His sleeve in order for me to provide for myself after becoming disabled.)

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I still followed a couple of detours after that. I’m a S-L-O-W learner, but once I got it, a dust cloud follows behind me and my chariot. (You don’t see it on my book’s cover because my illustrator replaced it with wheelchair tracks. Whatever.)

I believe we wander from our heart’s path because we don’t recognize our value and belittle our gifts. We assume them common and mundane by thinking, “This is too easy. Anyone can do it. I’m nobody special.”

That’s the big LIE—to derail you off your life path, your fulfillment, your contribution to the world. Yes, the world!

Do you know what yours is?

I will help you find the path leading to your heart, the way I found mine.

HOW TO BE THE BEST YOU COMING SOON!

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Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity IS HERE!

Annually, around 11,000 SCIs occur in the United States. Fifty years ago, the life expectancy for people living with a SCI was only a couple of years. Now, it is next to anyone else’s with the same number one cause of death: heart attack.

Celebrities, like Christopher Reeve, have helped raise awareness of living with SCI, as well as money for research. But, there are the rest of us, with limited funds, who continue to beat the odds by living healthy, happy, productive lives. I am one of those among you living triumphantly from a wheelchair. Let me tell you how I’ve done it.

That’s me!

My book, Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity, recounts snippets of who I was before my car wreck—living an adventurous, enviable life among movie stars and musicians—and snippets during my adjustment on my chariot ride that changed me into the whole person I have become. It is a two-part book.

The first part is a fun, humorous, yet pithy vignette Memoir. When my flight of fancy was interrupted by disability, a journey of self-discovery ensued, revealing a secret, even I was incognizant of: I was a fearful, detached person. This revelation allowed me to break through the crippling chrysalis that had bound and paralyzed me before my wreck, into an emotional freedom and physical independence I had never known when walking.
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The second part, Appendix: Let’s talk, is a self-help/reference guide for gaining this emotional freedom and physical independence. It is chock-full of humorous, personal anecdotes in dealing with and alleviating daily vexations (mischievous pets included), as well as descriptions, prices, and sources for purchasing helpful assistive aides, products, and equipment I have found to be essential, or just because I like them. They range from pain patches and health care, home renovation and decoration, kitchen gizmos with recipes included, to exercise equipment, and much more. All these are referenced in the Notes at the end of my book—a wealth of information for anyone adjusting to an interruption of disability, disease, or illness; also, a must for family, friends, caretakers, and professionals on the journey with us.

If you are accomplished at reading-between-the-lines, you will glean extra credit on your life journey toward peace and productivity.

TODAY, I AM ANNOUCING: Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity IS NOW AVAILABE! Click http://booklocker.com/books/6235.html  to get on its page, and you’ll be on your way to have it conveniently delivered to you. I’ve offered a FREE excerpt for your preview.