Crippled

     Nancy Mairs describes herself as crippled.  She is affected Multiple Sclerosis--significant aspects of her life.  Upon first reading her explanation regarding crippled, I cringed.  Childhood calls of "crippled" returned in an instant.  Mairs was clear.  She was not--she is not--prescribing the crippled label to all whose lives are in some way different from "normal,"  whatever "normal" is.
     I do not aspire to crippled certification, nor to being a cripple.  Yet, I respect her use of the label.  I understand the moment's hold it has on the body--on the mind.  Without aspiring to be crippled--to be a cripple--I must not run away, on my way to a different word, from the moment when crippled is the precise word that defines my moment's state.  Never did I imagine I would make such a statement about crippled, yet, it describes my current understanding.
    I am Patricia Ann Thorsen.  My family, my friends, and I call my self  "Patty."  Loss of stamina--loss of muscle tone--have brought me to stages I call physically challenged, and mobility impaired.  Yet, those terms do not encompass sufficiently the physical parts that are due to my cerebral palsy, and osteoarthritis.  I, like many people of a certain age, grew up as crippled, then handicapped, and then disabled.  I still describe the physical aspects, which have informed my spiritual self--my entire being--as disabled.  I do not mean to imply that disabled suffices to describe my entire being.
   I do need to be quite clear about my jigsaw puzzle pieces--crippled, handicapped, physically challenged, mobility impaired, and disabled.  Other jigsaw puzzle pieces well may enter my vocabulary--wheelchair user, wheelchair bound, confined to a wheelchair.  I do not think the latter two will define me, when I do get a wheelchair, and begin to use it.  Yet, in matter of fact, they will.   I pray that I will not run from the words before I become an intimate partner with my wheelchair--if she ever comes:)  This must be a journey, if I am not to fall victim to a wheelchair.
     I have no idea where this journey is headed--where I will travel.  Just as I had no idea of where I would arrive at the end of this posting, when I started writing it.

A Cherished Life

For the most part--and you can believe this or not as you choose--I consider my life unusually privileged.  How many people get to adapt themselves deliberately to their circumstances?  How many get to adopt a pace that suits them--or even have a chance to puzzle what that pace might be?  How many get to devote themselves fully to the pursuits that most delight them:  in my case, observing, reflecting, conversing, writing?  How many cherish what little they have on any given day, in the full knowledge that on some tomorrow it inevitable will be lost?
                                Nancy Mairs, Waist-High in the World, p. 38
     Cherishing the unexpected is a true gift.  A colleague died this week at a very young age.  Her poignant funeral amplified how wonderful it has been--how wonderful it is--to be allowed to craft a life on my own terms.  I am not free of boundaries, or limits, but, I am free of artificially-imposed boundaries and limits.  My body--my geography of space--sets boundaries.  But, no longer am I bound by corporate etiquette, or corporate pressures.  Beyond a number of individuals, I do not think about where I worked for 24 years.
    Since I have stopped working in the 9-to-5 work world, I have been given new opportunities.  I followed the best advice given to me--get up every day at the same time, and get dressed as though you were going to a job at a set time.  I set no alarm.  My bladder takes care of that.  I love words, crosswords, current events, and world affairs, as well as reading, researching, writing, and reflecting.  Encouraged by friends, and family, I go to sleep each night knowing I am living by my lifelong passions.
     I do not impose anxiety on myself by setting unrealistic goals.  As active a volunteer as was my late colleague, her neighbor said that her vacation was doing nothing.  She understood the importance of playing to living fully.  Whereas many people try to fill the hours of their day meeting quotas, she understood that her work time was more productive--more enjoyable--by her rich playing, and re-creation.
     My colleague faced a ravaging illness.  Yet, she navigated it on her own terms.  Not perfectly, but, its imperfections are hers alone to know.  It is for us to know that her navigation was not worthy of heroic admiration, rather, it was her gift for us to appreciate.  I abhor saying that there are always people who are less fortunate than I am.  I have no intent to elevate my life experiences in the context of others.  Quite to the contrary.  My colleague touched deeply the individuals who helped her to navigate her dying days.  She knew she was dying--her death was imminent.  So, she surrounded herself with people who would celebrate her with stories, laughter, and beautiful poetry.
     Nancy Mairs, and my colleagues remind me how fortunate I feel--not by their dictate, but, by my own keen ear.  I work no longer, though, normally, my age prescribes it.  Yet, my "work" is my life's work--crafting my time and surroundings with what brings the most joy.  Reading, researching, reflection, and writing.  A cherished living is not free of challenge.  Cherished living must not atrophy my mind or my spirit.  Atrophying of my body parts tempts my mind, and my spirit to be obedient followers.
     My colleague allowed my embrace with old "partners in crime" from whom my body dictated my abrupt departure.  We may or may not gather again as a group.  Perhaps at the funeral of another colleague.  Yet, yesterday, each of us were able to say to one another, "Life is better now.  Despite the abrupt, painful circumstances surrounding our partings, life is better now."