Author: Cynthia White

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Dear Caregiver,

If you’re the lone caregiver for a loved one disabled from injury, disease, or illness, exhaustion can needlessly add to your stress. Aside from grieving the loss of the person you once knew, the future you hoped to share together as changed significantly.

Maybe you were sports enthusiasts, movie-goers, appreciators of the arts, or dedicated game-players. Now that you can’t easily go to an athletic event, the theater, museum, concert, or continue as club members, is there something You CAN substitute for it? And, would you consider offerring your loved one the opportunity to experience it with another? For instance:

Once-in-a-blue-moon, anticipate an IMAX ‘excellent’ adventure.

PBS performances, high school, and/or college drama departments are options for plays, operas, even concerts. Most schools and amphitheaters are accessible these days. I’ve found that students, as well as faculty, from the university in my town are open to performing in homes. A friend presented me with the gift of an ensemble singing Christmas carols to their own instrumentation. As well, poetry recitation, storytelling, dancing, playing instruments, karaoke, drawing, or painting are sensory experiences to share together.

Take a virtual museum tour or try this: My “Soul Soaring-No Wheelchair Needed” article on 09/14/2012  http://conversationswithcynthia.com/2012/09/14/soul-soaring-n…elchair-needed/

Concerning that serpent of guilt, its motive is to isolate and depress. Finding a network of support to assist your responsibilities is a mandatory life-line.

http://apparalyzed.com/disability-directory/disability-forums-chat/ has a forum specifically for spouses and parents caring for family members of SCI, in addition to information on health issues, technology and assistive technology, sports, travel, research/cure/treatment news, and much more for your loved one to connect with. It’s an active, informative, stimulating site.

Barry J. Jacobs’ book, The Emotional Survival Guide for Caregivers, is a soothing balm for caregivers. It is based on caring for an aging parent; yuou can learn what he has gleaned from his own personal experience, as well, as a clinical psychologist and family therapist.  http://www.emotionalsurvivalguide.com/book.htm

Just as important as reaching out for support, you must take care of yourself.

After my release from five months in SCI rehab, I lived with my sister and brother-in-law for about three or four months before leasing an apartment and going back to work. During that time, our church organized a daily schedule to relieve my, then pregnant, sister.

On a two-week rotation, one day every-other-week, a new friend picked me up around 11:30 am to carry me to her home for lunch. Back then, most husbands came home for lunch. The couple, their young children included, shared their meal with me. Dad went back to work, children took a nap, and we visited until nap was over. Normally, I was home by 4:00 pm.

It was the perfect opportunity for me to learn to adapt in different environments, build confidence in my abilities, and to make new friends.
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Not sharing your care-giving can pose a dilemma. When you have cared so attentively that your loved one wants ONLY you to assist and care for them, how can you find the necessary respite? It’s a ‘Catch-22’ situation. I’ve been on both sides.

On one hand, you were there when they were admitted into the hospital, during rehabilitation, and first came home. You know best how-to.

You doubt another knows what is best for them or will care for them as you do. You fear the repercussion between you and your loved one if you seek outside help. You may feel guilty, and you fear what others may think, if you do.

You are sacrificing and compromising your mental and physical health for theirs.

On the other hand, your loved one knows you know how-to. He/she feels comfortable with you and feels confident in your hands. Adjusting to another person will be unfamiliar and they will have to sacrifice their preferences. They fear the unknown.

For your loved one’s full adjustment to his/her situation, and turning that corner toward independence, he/she must be allowed other’s help. It’s interesting that when caught between the ‘rock-and-a-hard-place’ their wheels of avoidance figure out ‘how-to’ for themselves.

When we sulk at the suggestion of assistance from friends, other family members, or hired help, you feel resentment. When we threaten withholding our love or giving up, you feel anger. When we threaten to harm ourselves, you feel guilt and hopelessness.

Allow us these confusing emotions; only don’t take them personally. It isn’t really about you unless you fear speaking truth. If fear isn’t faced, it will be the bully pushing us around.

Love yourself enough to Seek support, Assistance, and You-time to quell the negative emotions you try to hide inside. Notice the acronym, SAY. Saying it out loud–straight-up– is the first step toward a viable solution to living joyfully and at peace with each other.

YOU ARE INVALUABLE; not just to your loved ones.

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Dear Family,

I don’t have many disabled friends, although time and again, friends and friends-of-friends give me numbers to call of people adjusting to a disability, disease, or illness. In addition to living with a disability, my counseling experience seems the perfect fit. I can listen with an empathetic ear, answer personal questions, and offer practical solutions for daily living. Before moving away, one of these women became a dear friend.

She was a go-getter. Obstacles were met with determination. She thought of tomorrow as the result of what she made of today. She was, and I’m sure she still is, a trooper. We lost touch after she and her husband moved. It was fun with the both of us rolling around together in our homes. I hadn’t been in a room full of wheelchairs since rehab!

From all the conversations getting to know my comrades-on-wheels, with the exclusion of my friend Julie, this is what I’ve found: Most succumbed to disability.

Understandably, they were faced with the drastic lifestyle change. And, the added stress of dashed dreams, the uncertainty of tomorrow, and pressure to adjust before the impact of the new reality had sunk in, brought an emotional tailspin—depression. This is when family is most important, although it was their families that seemed to be the insurmountable barrier to their emotional freedom and physical independence.

Caustic remarks fueled emotional eruptions. Innuendos, hints, and sarcastic tones of unspoken resentments from care-giving family members were destructive to all; particularly, the ones with broken wings. They couldn’t fly away to safety, and healing. They were sentenced to flop around and be pecked by unkindnesses.

The saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” is untrue. Words wound, as well.

Family should be a safe environment nurturing us back into a productive life. Even so, it’s difficult for you who love us to stand back and watch the struggle—dressing, feeding, wheeling ourselves—when you could easily do it for us. But, we must be allowed the struggles. This not only increases our endurance but also our confidence toward independence.
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Independence requires we care for ourselves, apply make-up, or shave. Adjustment asks for time for our doubts and confusion to settle. In time, we gain confidence on the slippery slope of acceptance toward a healthy adjustment. Please encourage us to hope, to make plans for a new future. When the time comes, we will have learned we will be okay on our own. After all, this is true for anyone.

We don’t like feeling helpless. We don’t like feeling we’re a burden. Help us be neither.

We are aware that it’s a difficult adjustment for you. We do know you’re suffering, as well. Your dreams for and with us have been altered. You miss the way we were. You feel guilty because you do. It’s natural. It’s okay. You have your own adjustment. Together, we can do it.

Once we gain emotional freedom, prove our independence, and begin to laugh again, you can push us around.  We’ll accept a freebie, any day.

THANK YOU!

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Make My Day

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 a low-maintenance kind-of-girl. I am entertained by a good book, an old movie, or stimulating conversations. I find beauty in the simple yet magnificent pleasures–all my little sanctuary’s animal, mineral and vegetable gifts, nature’s seasonal raiment, and sunshine. I live a blessed life.

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. (Picture in memory. Ciati transitioned to Heaven’s rosemary fields–her favorite–at 22 years spry)

Then, there are the occasional days my body requires extra TLC (with my Young Living essential oils) from over-worked muscles. 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 they are uninvited pests in everyone’s home. I’m fine with “out-of-sight…” Though, when I do see one, I do not allow it out of my sight until I have read its rights…or, I’ll 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!
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Whether with a bow-and-arrow, shotgun, handgun, or horseshoes, I was an excellent shot. I may not manually hold any of the above at this time, 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. 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.”

It did! I felt much better.

 

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Where art Thou, Romeo?

Movies and romance novels propagate the fantastical delusion of the perfect other in our lives. Though it’s subliminal: “…below the threshold of consciousness.” (Merriam-Webster), these scripts imply that The One is out there waiting to meet all our emotional and physical needs, just like that. The infamous line in Jerry Maguire, “You complete me.” doesn’t help in refuting this romantic notion of effortlessly living happily ever after.

STOP! There is no such thing. Forget it! He/she doesn’t exist. Was there a Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Two, Sleeping Beauty –After Her Awakening, or Cinderella-My Family Will Come? No, deluded romantics, because after commitment comes reality.

Because God knows the cost of true love, I believe that the physiological and psychological effects of being in love are His whimsical whammy for procreation. (You know, the surges of serotonin in the gut, aka butterflies, and the mood enhancer, dopamine, messing with the brain’s reasoning abilities.) If it weren’t for these out-of-control emotions, how many of you would knowingly walk into the most difficult role of your life? He knew the strength of emotion, as well as the emotional strength, necessary to star in this role. He is the Epitome, Price, and Prize of commitment, of unconditional love.

Although I have yet to experience it, I believe in forever love.The many couples who remain married after decades of living this forever love say that they work at staying in love, day-in and day-out. The secret is that neither one falls out-of-love with the other at the same time.

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PHOTO Heart REFLECTION SWANS LOVEA successful love story takes work and understanding. Getting to know anyone takes patience and time. It requires acceptance (of their preferences or prickly quirks), availability, kindness, selflessness, and persistence when things get painful.This is when most people throw up their hands and throw-in-the-towel on love. They choose to not deal with the conflict. What good story is without conflict? Besides, marriage isn’t a mindless emotional high. Who could sustain it?!

A committed marriage, or any committed relationship, is to selflessly support, help, and heal each other on the road to their (and your) personal wholeness. Let’s face it: the inevitable daily friction of rubbing shoulders, re-opens childhood wounds from early relationships; raw, unresolved emotions sting and irritate.

If you feel you are with The One, are you going to run away when things get tough and let another scab form over your unhealed wounds? Or, will you stay to apply (and receive) the healing salve of true, unconditional love—the ointment of your soul?

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Extraverbalism

One intention for my blog articles is to stimulate thought; not just for the disabled, but for the able-bodied as well. Whether it tweaks a fundamental change in thinking, sparks a revelatory “aha moment,” or brings a view-enlarging paradigm shift, I want you, my readers, not only to be satisfied, but also to be challenged to be the best you.

Reading for information’s sake is a great learning tool, but self-examination and introspective questions result in self-enlightenment and personal growth.

Something Diane Sawyer said made me reconsider my equation for learning. If I’m not mistaken, it was a question asked of her by her father one afternoon after school. It was: “What questions did you ask today?” not, “What did you learn today?” though a good, necessary question.

We can deduce that that provocative question shifted her perspective, propelling her to become the renowned investigative correspondent/anchor she is today.

I was painfully shy in my younger years, and resembled the age-old adage, “Children should be seen, not heard.” It took years, and then some, to realize the self-centeredness of my shyness before I could perform as an extrovert. I had to learn how to carry-off the extrovert personality while having the temperament of an introvert. I learned how-to through required reading for a counseling course.

Most clients, and friends, come to therapy to “talk through” whatever they need help and resolution with. You want to draw them out with questions.

You also need to be a skilled listener; not only to what is said, but also to what isn’t said, in order to ask the poignant questions. I began using these methods with friends, colleagues, and new acquaintances to learn more about them, and to practice my extraverbalism.

Through inquiry, you can learn as well as teach. With the right line of questioning, a question can answer itself for the person being asked the question, an aha moment for them.

For instance: Someone has been burning your ears with insults, complaints, and criticism of a person they know. Ask: “Are you angry with so-in-so?”

In that instant, their ragings will boomerang back in their consciousness, registering their anger. Whether motivated by jealousy or envy, they’re mad about it.

You can also learn through intuitive translation.

Body language validates the truth, or exposes the untruth, of the spoken word. For example: Someone walks up to you, introduces themselves, shakes your hand with, “So nice to meet you.” then backs away.
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I don’t think so! If they were glad to meet you, they would remain within a comfortable space to carry on a conversation. If not, they may have issues with their own personal space.

You might then ask, “Are you uncomfortable?” The question lets them know you see them and understand. Even if they deny it, the question will provoke thought.

The more questions I ask, the more interested I become. The more interested I become, the more I learn. Amidst the conversation, the other party becomes the center of attention and leaves thinking I was a great conversationalist.Truth be told, we like hearing ourselves talk.

The juxtaposition of becoming an inquiring extraverbalist while being an introvert did not belittle who I was. It was not a character compromise. It made me a better me.

What changes have been incubating in you?

Are you ready?

Do it!

Become the best you. No one else can. http://booklocker.com/books/6811.html.

 

 

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My Pearl

I want to take you on an historic walk along the scenic ocean shore. Please, bear with my analogies. (I could have said “Bare with…” which means “get naked”…do what you will to get in the mood:))

It has never been my thing to talk a lot, particularly about myself. Solitude is, and has been, my oyster shell. Solitude remains a harboring place and cultivating bay for me.

 

Still waters

The sands of time have rudely, but mercifully, exfoliated the overgrowth of barnacles and parasites that have tried to infect the pearl God so caringly implanted inside me. In spite of or because of these rhythmic disturbances in my cultivation, my pearl has finally been harvested. It remains in the polishing stage, but its color and luster are appearing.

My voice, silenced since childhood, is my pearl. And like a ventriloquist, I talk with my hands; more specifically, my middle finger. NO, I’m not talking birds; I type with my middle finger.

I’m a slow southern talker of about 8 words a minute. I’ve been talking steadily for a while now but am still treading water in this social media thing. My cyber synapses are sparking to catch up with my speedy Gonzales fingers. ARRIBA!
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My first book has been out since June, and I’m tweaking my second. My first children’s book will be out late winter or first of the year. I post each Friday on this blog, AND the first week of each month, I update at www.facebook.com/ConversationsWithCynthia. I’m going to talk your eyes out of your head.

Of course, you can’t “like” my first book, Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity, until you actually read it. You can PURCHASE it at http://booklocker.com/books/6235.htmlthen, let’s talk.

Please leave me a comment or review after my June 21, 2012 article, “Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity IS HERE!”

Talk to you soon.

 

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A Hymn

Today, my topic is a hymn, like no other.

When my feet did all the walking, autumn was my favorite season.  I still love her displays of clear azure skies above amber and carnelian dressed trees, nippy winds raining down flurries of autumn leaves, and dropping temperatures ushering in winter. What I love about all four of the seasons is how they announce each others’ approach, like the warm-up opening act for the next season’s concert.

Since childhood, the one cohesive element in nature’s draw for me has always been the tent of the heavens. No matter the season, I lay transfixed on a blanket or cocooned in a sleeping bag staring heavenward, transfixed by its expanse, wondering, contemplating life, identifying the constellations, and praying. And, how I love a full moon!

In silence, I learned to listen to what I saw, and to trust what I heard. Though still, I can’t carry a tune with my voice, as I behold the night’s sparkling heavens, my heart sings to God.

I’m not alone when I say this: King David, who spent countless nights under the stars 3,000 years ago, wrote a psalm expressing his awe and understanding of the heavens.

He wrote: “The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament shows His handiwork. Day unto day utters speech, and night unto night reveals knowledge. There is no speech nor language where their voice is not heard. Their line (sound, parenthesis mine) has gone out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world.” (Psalm 19: 1-4 KJV)

On the next clear evening, find an exquisite view of the heavens. Pause beneath them. Listen to their symphony. Soak in their harmony. Feel your heart swell with awe and hope. Pen your psalm and sing it.
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No one will hear…except The One Who knows your name; The One Who hears your thoughts, The Wonderful One Who made you.

Just like the heavens shout without speaking a word, let your heart sing His favorite song.

He’s listening.

 

 

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Soul Soaring

What weighs 110-115 deadweight pounds and is shackled to the earth by 30 pounds of metal? ME!

I used to love leg wrestling; and I was good, weighing in at only 105 pounds. I never studied or was trained in wrestling techniques; I just knew how to take another off-balance. It’s at the waist—the center of gravity. As long as I could get one of their legs from under their center of gravity, it was my match. Whether scuffling in the yard or in water (pool, ocean, lake, or swimming hole), it made no difference, except for the landing; which brings me back to deadweight.

Thefreedictionary.com defines deadweight as, “The unrelieved weight of a heavy, motionless mass.” Yes. Motionless? Yeah, except for my Scream 5-ish open-mouth/empty eyes, ghostly white face go-i-n-g  d-o-w-n. THUD! Early on, I even did a “motionless” face-plant into my dinner plate, stimulated from a back spasm. I’m sure a couple of you resemble that.

Let’s, for a minute, cast our deadweight aside, lift-off in our weightless imaginations, and go soul-soaring. Let’s

…silently hang glide with eagles aloft cool mountain currents over verdant valleys below. Listen to the whistling wind as it strokes your hair and kisses your face.

…swish down steep powder trails on air-spring knees with ski-pole’s rhythmic propulsion and metronome timing as silent ice crystals melt on your face and crown your toboggan.

…glide silently beneath the frigid water’s surface gently tossed in its oscillating ebb and flow. Soak in voyeuristic vistas of fish’s synchronized movements as you fluidly float among them, hearing only your Darth Vader-ish breathe in surround-sound.

…with tight grip, slalom on a tranquil mornings’ smooth-as-glass cool lake waters, whose only ripple is the boat’s wake.

…take a running leap off a crusty lichen-covered boulder into the still lake thirty feet below, dropping deep, and deeper into its black abyss. Feel your chest swell as you pull the waters down to propel your body up. When you finally burst through the liquid cocoon’s surface, you gasp in depleted air!

…rise up from sweltering beach towel sunbathing to bolt across blistering foot-scorching sands. Dive into the shimmering ocean’s cooling waters.

…meditatively sit on a smooth protruding rock along the seashore. Close your eyes as crashing waves explode their exfoliating salt on your already sticky skin. Tune in to squawking seagulls soaring above the ocean’s roar. Open your eyes. Watch as they dive-bomb through the water’s surface for their favorite fare.

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…lay back on a fallen tree trunk within an autumn leaves-blanketed wood. Shhh! Listen to the rustlings of scampering squirrels playing chase, the distant call of a hawk for its mate, and the watchful doe with her fawn.

Or, feel

…the heat of summer’s sun on your skin,

…the soothing warmth of bath water or its sting on your sun-burned skin,

…melting ice cool your overheated body,

…chill-bumps,

…a mosquito bite.

Now, go back to one of these never experienced sports, a long forgotten sensation, or your favorite activity. In your mind, dwell there for an expanse of time, as the morning sun rises or evening’s sun sets, in your favorite season, alone or with a special someone. It’s your story. You’re the writer, director, cinematographer, and star.

Let your soul soar, often. It’s good for you.

 

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Spontaneity

According to me, one of the misfortunes of living with a disability is the loss of spontaneity. I miss impromptu trysts with friends for a midday coffee, catching a matinee at the last minute, foot-scorching sands on the beach while beach towel sunbathing, walking barefoot in the rain….But recently, I felt overindulged at a friend’s “throw her own” birthday party.

She invited an estimated seventy friends for a special luncheon at her country club. The speaker was Dorothy McDaniels of Dorothy McDaniel’s Flower Market fame in Homewood, Alabama. (She has even made arrangements for Margaret Thatcher!) She demonstrated techniques of a dozen different floral arrangements using red roses and green roses (I didn’t know that there were green roses.), green hydrangeas, purple irises, hot pink lilies, yellow this and thats, and white everythings; I love the purity and simplicity of white.

My rose after a couple days’ bloom

The table settings were breathtaking. At each place setting was a single rose tied with bows of purple organza and spring green satin. Every rose was a different type and a different color. (This was my rose after a couple-of-days’ bloom.) The centerpieces were low and glorious with light and hot pinks, purples and periwinkles, orange and yellow and green. SEE! And, the meal was as colorful and tasty: Spring greens salad sprinkled with sliced strawberries, wild mushroom crepes with Béchamel (a rich, creamy white sauce) over a rice pilaf, and rainbow sherbet with a Pirouette (rolled cookie) served in a long stem wine glass. Yum!  This is me wearing my Asian tree Fascinator, after drinking my adrenalin (coffee).

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Outings have been rare lately, although I’ll be out promoting my book, Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity, in the upcoming months!

Although, I believe this is my temporary home, I make the best of living with my disability. I look forward to traveling the universe beholding Reality, whole and healed, enjoying Real spontaneity.

 

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Chicago, Chicago

Chicago theater

(NOTE: This is more than my standard 500 or less words for my articles. I didn’t want a “To be continued” tease at its middle. So, grab a juice or flavored water. Travel with me.)

For me as a SCI, travel and dilemma are synonymous. I look forward to the fellowship and activities at destination’s end, but the tedious planning and knowledge that MOST plans will crash before realized encroaches upon my hyped anticipation.

This recent Chicago trip was planned around a rehabilitation conference to sell my first book, Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity http://booklocker.com/books/6235.html . To make travel possible, my dear friend and European daughter, Sandy LeBihan (one of my international exchange students twenty years ago), planned a two-week vacation to fly across the pond for our visit and my business adventure. We hadn’t seen each other since her third visit in 2007.

We flew a direct flight in an Express—a VERY SMALL, plane. Don’t do it…unless you can get out of your wheelchair or are a paraplegic.

Normally when I fly, I am the only wheelchair traveler; but as we waited to board, there were four other wheelchair users at the gate. Waiting my turn to be strapped into the hard plastic 12-inch-wide isle chair to be bumped and precariously rocked on board, each of the others transferred themselves into it.  Obviously, they were paraplegics.

Of course, I’m going to inquire who they are and where they are going after Chicago. The serendipity is: One was competing in tennis and a couple in basketball at the Paralympics in London! Sandy just came from there, 6 days ago. (She’s French but has lived in London for the past 6 years.)

The horror that snapped me out of my awe was my “handlers!” Inept and obtuse can’t describe the experience or their training. On the other hand, at the Chicago end, I have never experienced two more trained, qualified, and intuitive handlers. When I informed them of my poor upper body strength, they snapped into a harmonious flow of precision I have never experienced before. I wish I knew their names to applaud them. Thank you, guys! Two other of the eight seemed to understand quadriplegia.

“GO Airport Express” (www.airportexpress.com) has wheelchair accessible ramped vans. They have a counter by baggage claims. Make round-trip reservations including them to pick you up at the airport and take you back for your return flight.

Everything I had prearranged with the hotel two months ago was not arranged. There was no accessible room available until the next day (I had specifically reserved one beginning on that date), a mile-high bed that the hotel “engineers” could not lower, and as I had requested—with the foreknowledge of the need, there was no one at the desk who could lift me into the “accessible” bed at night’s end. An hour later after three calls, a dear woman from housekeeping came up to assist Sandy in heave-hoing me in, as she did for the following four nights.

The best things about our room was the skyline lake view, and the cloud-soft beds. Sandy and I both tend to be insomniacs. We slept like babies.

The week-end conference was successful and a delight due to the skill and contagious personality of Gary Rainaldi, its organizer. I met some wonderful people, made several good contacts, and sold a lot of books.

Saturday afternoon, Sunday, and Monday were scheduled with sight-seeing tours. Due to an hour-and-a-half wait for our “scheduled” taxi equipped with a wheelchair lift, we missed our Trolley tour. We waited two more hours to be told there were no more wheelchair accessible tours for the day. (After the fact, they were late because our hotel was twenty minutes from downtown. Their business is downtown where everything is happening. Stay downtown! But, Flash Cab Chicago, 773-561-4444,  was the best! Congenial and knowledgable of disability, the drivers were delightful.)

Sunday, we returned in the rain to be told the lift on that particular trolley was broken; there would be another trolley with a lift soon. An hour later, and after scrapping corroded metal from the wheelchair anchor locks in the Trolley’s floor, we saw Chicago—looking like drowned rats, but happy rats.

State Street

We traveled State Street where Batman rode his Bat mobile in “The Dark Knight.” (Many movies film on this street.) Somewhere on the tour, we passed the wreckage of 6 or 7 topsy-turvy police cars staged for the aftermath of a chase scene. And, we passed by Giordono’s, renowned as Chicago’s best pizza, although several boast the honor.

Overall, the Chicago Trolley (& Double Decker Co.) tour was informative and enjoyable. It was the hop on/hop off tour where you can get off or back on at fourteen allocated points to experience up-close-and-personal sight-seeing, shopping, and/or dining. If possible, plan the first morning tour to allow for this adventure. However, know the calculated arrival and departure times at each point or you might get stuck. The trolley sits for one minute at each stop.
If your mind isn’t focused on the task at hand, and don’t move on until you achieve what you have a peek here viagra 50 mg set out to do.

A $35 ticket lasts for three days of trolley hop on/hop off sight-seeing. A tour without leaving the trolley lasts a couple of hours. If you have the time, ride the first day to pick points of interest where you would like to “hop-off” on other days. We didn’t have the time but were told getting off for a panoramic view of Chicago from the John Hancock Observatory was the exceptional one; there is also the Chicago Sky Deck in Willis Tower.

Sadly, due to so much waiting on the first day, we didn’t get to tour the museums or aquarium—my thing. For you shoppers, “the magnificent mile,” the northeast end of Michigan Avenue, is shopping nirvana.

Monday, blue skies returned for our 90-minute boat tour on the Chicago River and into Lake Michigan.

When I told Sandy that we would visit Chicago, her first thought was that she wanted to be on a boat like the scene with Julia Roberts’ and Dermot Mulroney’s characters in “My Best Friend’s Wedding.” (She works with Universal Studios!) This was my highlight—after a dubious beginning.

Wendella Dock below Wrigley Bldg

Boarding for the Wendella is at Wendella Dock, the ticket counter, at the base of The Wrigley’s Building (yes, the gum). Boarding for the disabled, wheelchair bound, or aged is supposed to be at The Trump Dock. BUT, the street lift down to the ramped, accessible boarding was out-of-service for the week. No one knew this or warned us of the possibility when we purchased our tickets.

After two days of missed tours and delays, we arrived two hours before scheduled boarding. (Thank you, Jesus; we are teachable.) ANYWAY…learning that the street lift was closed, we entered Trump Towers inquiring how to descend to Trump Dock.

Trump Towers

To save you an hour of finally solved cunundrums, Gwen, one of the concierges, retraced our steps to realize the inaccessibility to the boat. She called for building security to unlock a private entrance from Trump Towers to allow us onto the Trump Dock. (We met a ninety-year-old woman here. By her looks and agility, I bet she could have boarded the Wendella by jumping.) Gwen had a couple of bottles of ice cold water waiting for us upon our return. Thank you, Gwen!

On this architectural tour, we had breathtaking up-close views, excellent live narrative about magnificent buildings, architecture, and Chicago’s rich history. We passed through

Chicago skyline from the Wendella on Lake Michigan

Chicago’s Lock into Lake Michigan to view Chicago’s entire skyline. I always looked for the Batman Building (John Hancock) with the two metal spires reaching heavenward, and Navy Pier.

(Adults $26, seniors $24, and children (11 and under) $13. The Wendella even had an open bar.)

Allow me to give kudos to my little hero, Sandy. This trip would not have been possible without her; not just for her physical presense accompanying me, but also for her astounding mental and visual memory. Whether taking directions, finding our way, remembering people’s names, streets, or buildings, she’s a human GPS. I love you, Sandy. Thank you!

I’m glad to be home.