Compassion. Read. Consider. Sign. Live.

The Charter for Compassion

The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the centre of our world and put another there, and to honour the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect.

It is also necessary in both public and private life to refrain consistently and empathically from inflicting pain. To act or speak violently out of spite, chauvinism, or self-interest, to impoverish, exploit or deny basic rights to anybody, and to incite hatred by denigrating others—even our enemies—is a denial of our common humanity. We acknowledge that we have failed to live compassionately and that some have even increased the sum of human misery in the name of religion.

We therefore call upon all men and women ~ to restore compassion to the centre of morality and religion ~ to return to the ancient principle that any interpretation of scripture that breeds violence, hatred or disdain is illegitimate ~ to ensure that youth are given accurate and respectful information about other traditions, religions and cultures ~ to encourage a positive appreciation of cultural and religious diversity ~ to cultivate an informed empathy with the suffering of all human beings—even those regarded as enemies.

We urgently need to make compassion a clear, luminous and dynamic force in our polarized world. Rooted in a principled determination to transcend selfishness, compassion can break down political, dogmatic, ideological and religious boundaries. Born of our deep interdependence, compassion is essential to human relationships and to a fulfilled humanity. It is the path to enlightenment, and indispensable to the creation of a just economy and a peaceful global community.

I encourage you.  Please affirm with your name.  Embrace commitments of compassion the charter offers.  Commit to your own.  Share.  Live with, by, and for compassion.

September 11...1948

     An oft-ask question is, "How will you be commemorating September 11th?"
     I commemorate September 11th with my life.  You see, on September 11, 1948, my parents were married.  While others commemorate the attacks on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and on Shanksville, Pennsylvania, the people lost, the first responders--I celebrate the wedding of my parents in 1948--63 years ago.
     I commemorate September 11th--with the pursuit of peace and understanding among people--each day.  How?  A cliche? No.
     Among people is not a nebulous term.  I pursue peace and understanding with each individual I meet, know, and love each day.  I am not a Pollyanna.  Not everyone shares my views and preferences on issues and matters large and small.
     I do not claim myself to be a proud American.  I wave no flags.  I wear no pins.  I parade no routes.  I do get choked up on Election Day--on- and off-year elections just the same.  I do get choked up on Inauguration Day.  Party matters not to me.  I am not a proud American.  I am a committed world citizen.
     By definition, I am no patriot--I am not patriotic.  I devote my energies in search of peace and toward understanding, rather than in defense of America, and seeking vengeance, or being vigilant against acts of terror.  I prefer to be vigilant for acts of peace.      
     I seek peace each day with each individual I meet that day.  I seek not complete agreement.  I seek understanding.  Different views, different preferences--different perspectives--invite me to deeper understanding.
     Seeking peace--seeking understanding--is not grandiose.  Peace and understanding are my daily aspirations--one person, one day at a time.
     I commemorate the peace and understanding that was married on September 11, 1948.  Happy 63rd anniversary, Mom and Dad.  Thank you for your example of love--your commitment to peace.

Epilepsy Chronicles: Precursory Shakiness

     Honestly, I don't know if what I am about to describe is germane to the Epilepsy Chronicles.  I think it is.      My thoughts, words, and descriptions deal with brain damage most directly, moreso than epilepsy per se.
     I work very hard to stay as calm as is possible--humor, empathy, patience, among other attributes that elude me.  These attributes may be seen as laudable, and, in one sense, they may be.  Yet, there is a neurological basis that makes these attributes essential.  I am not a doctor.   I have not studied neurology, or any scientific discipline that might offer me insight.
     I can quantify the dosages of anticonvulsants I am prescribed to tame the extra electrical activity in my brain--milligrams.  I can quantify the level of anticonvulsants in my bloodstream, which are determined by a blood test--a therapeutic blood level range.  Based on my weight, at least, there is a numeric scale established. If the therapeutic blood level is too low, my experience has been that more medication is prescribed.  The opposite is true, too.  In my experience, blood levels that are too high on that scale lead doctors to prescribe a higher dosage of medications.  Sometimes, an altogether different anticonvulsant is prescribed.
    Yet, I cannot quantify the threshold I have for anger, and frustration, which leads to shakiness of my whole body--I cannot quantify it for myself or for others.  I recognize it myself.  All I know to do is to cry, and then, isolate myself until my jangled nerves are tamed, and my body is steadied physically.  The crying is the cleansing agent essential to taming the extra electrical activity in my brain.
    Compounding my own response, I know that the apologies of other people, well-intended though I know they are, only exacerbate my initial response.  Trying to be rational long enough to isolate myself for my necessary cry, and quiet time is extremely difficult.  I know that a part of that quiet means removing any activities that I know will involve further neurological agitation.  I try to be rational, so as to explain that I can withstand some tension, frustration, and anger.  Yet, my rational efforts are useless.  My nervous system has been hijacked such that being physically steady is next to impossible.
     What I have just described is not a seizure, as I understand it, after having lived with epilepsy for more than 40 years.  My description today is fresh to my life--fresh to this moment.  After anticipating a personal training session for several weeks--a session to identify further efforts I may take to strengthen my arms, hands, and legs--I met with tremendous disappointment, frustration, and anger that a perfectly understandable mixup in appointment times occurred.  Not knowing precisely what to ask for to reschedule--what specific terms to use (a neurosis of mine)--my neurological response is intensified.
     I need peace--inner peace, calm, perspective, and determination to reclaim goals I know have been strengthening me, irrespective of reliable help I expected, and hoped I would be given today.  I need insight. Am I merely making an excuse for unnecessary, irrational behavior, or is there some credibility to my thoughts--my descriptions?

Crossed Wires...Jangled Nerves...

Crossed wires….jangled nerves….

When you were born,

your umbilical cord was wrapped around your neck five times.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves….

The corded gifts that keep on giving—epilepsy…cerebral palsy.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves….

You have excess electrical activity in your brain--epilepsy.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves….

Epilepsy is like a thunderstorm in the brain.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves.

I can do it myself, Mom, don’t you know, I can do it myself….

Can’t you see, Mom, I can’t do it myself, I need your help.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves….

The faster I walk, the more I trip.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves.

Your cerebral palsy accelerates your aging process.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves.

The harder you intend to use your left hand, the more it will shake—intentional tremors.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves….

The more hostile I am, the more intense my tremors.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves...

The more data you throw at me, the slower I compute.

Crossed wires...jangled nerves...

The more instructions I hear, the more I must write them--

the more Velcro from my ear to my brain I need.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves….

The more instructions I hear, the more I must write--

the more Velcro from my ear to my brain I need.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves….

The less I write, the less I remember.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves….

The more I write, the deeper I think.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves….

The more challenges I am given, the more I want to surmount them.

Crossed wires….jangled nerves….

Epilepsy Chronicles: How Long Did It Last?

"How long did the seizure last?"

     You know I live alone!  Let's see...I should be able to figure that out.  After all, I wasn't doing anything.  Oh, that's right, I forgot.  I know that I am lucky, because I usually get an aura--a feeling like you get when coming inside on a sunny day.  So, I knew to look at the clock before the seizure started.  Once the seizure stopped, I looked at the clock again.  Based on that the seizure lasted....Get real...my attention was hardly directed toward how long the seizure lasted.

    I do know it is important information to him.  I know that my neurologist can diagnose a seizure, in part, by its duration.

    How do I tell you that there is more to my seizure than its length?  How can I convey to you--you know--I live alone.  I am capable of doing so.  Yet, I am a bit preoccupied during a seizure.  But, how on earth do I tell YOU that.  You are a skilled neurologist, but, your people skills leave a lot to be desired.

     In the future, I will do everything I can to check the clock before and after the seizure.  After all, I don't want to disappoint you.

     There has to be another way to determine how long a seizure lasts.  After all, not everyone with seizures can live with someone or be with someone every moment of a day and night.  It just isn't practical!  

     What are people thinking?  Or ARE people thinking?  And people say that I am not very responsive.

The doctors tell me that my thought process is messed up after a seizure.  But, what about their thought processes? What excuses do they have for  being messed up in their thought processes.

    "How long did the seizure last?"

     Do you have any idea of how ridiculous your question sounds?  Have you ever had a seizure before?  Are you aware of the time warp I experience during a seizure?  ...Seconds last for minutes....minutes seem like hours...

    "How long did the seizure last?"

A Human Inventory

    Long before computers automated the inventory process of goods, a relative inventoried the goods of several grocery stores.  Many years hence, a more sophisticated world has demanded a more advanced inventorying.  Valuations are conducted by many professionals, who begin where the automated inventorying leaves off.  Valuations established a working value by which business, or the lives of divorced individuals may move forward to more profitable--more fulfilling--lives.
    I have known two professionals who engaged in inventorying and valuations.  I find myself in the midst of a different--very humbling--sort of valuation.  I am being called to itemize how I live my daily life.
    How do I live my life?  Can I 1. perform this activity independently; 2. Can I perform this activity with the use of equipment or adaptive devices; or is it true that  I cannot perform this activity.   
   Dress;  voluntary bladder and bowel control or ability to maintain a reasonable level of personal hygiene; toilet; feed yourself with food that has been prepared and made available to you; bathe (tub, shower, sponge); transfer from bed to chair.
   I feel comfortable with each today.  Yet, it is daunting to see those very real prospects as a part of my future is akin to the decision to get a power wheelchair--to opt to receive a head rim that I could use at the time in my future when my left hand might no longer be capable of manipulating a joystick.
     That is humbling, to say the least.
    You will go to college.  You will learn to live independently.
   I answer the questions with those words in my lifelong memory.  I have achieved the first.  I continue to achieve the second.  The future?
    I know how I have lived my life until now.  I have seen deterioration of my body in the last ten years, especially in the last two years.  But, the future.  Seeing its truth presented before me in black and white--starkly--that is humbling.
    So, how do I live in the present, such that I make the fullest use of my own abilities currently?  How do I live in the present, such that I do not endanger myself--my physical capacities--for the future?  How do I live in the present such that I position myself--prepare myself--for the future, with all of its humbling prospects?
    Responding to the current valuation, I thought that my visceral response to it was the section regarding activities of daily living--ADLs.  I am not partial to any acronym--clinical jargon--that abbreviates individual human beings.  To some, activities of daily living--ADLs--is a foreign word--an unknown quantity.  To others, it is a clinic scheme used to organize the occupational therapy needs of an individual.  Yet, to me activities of daily living--ADLs--represents a test that I can still pass independently, or with some equipment, or adaptive devices.
  These are humbling questions.
  Will there be a day when I cannot perform this activity--any of the activities of daily living? 
   Dress; voluntary bladder or bowel control or ability to maintain a reasonable level of personal hygiene; toilet; feed yourself with food that has been prepared and made available to you; bathe (bath, shower, or sponge); transfer from bed to chair.  These are tasks in a list--elements at the heart of dignity.

Zoomer Chronicles: Rules of the Road

     Zoomer has asked that I share with you some basic rules of the road.  Zoomer has been very impressed with how cooperative everyone has been.  So, these rules of the road are short, and sweet.
     Pedestrians.
     First, do not block the curb cut, when you are stepping off the sidewalk onto the street.  Second, do not block the curb cut, when you are stepping on the sidewalk from the street.  Third, do not leave Zoomer lingering in the street behind you, because you are dilly dallying in the street.
     Drivers.
     Zoomer would love you if you did not park in front of curb cuts.  Zoomer won't report you to the park police should you choose to park elsewhere, and engage in other activities:)
     Automatic door openers.
     Zoomer means no offense if she declines offers of help.  She doesn't want to injure you.  If you are feeling offended, please look at the cuts and abrasions she has incurred, when she was trying to be gracious to you.  She is appreciative of your offers of help.  Righteous indignation messes with Zoomer's nervous system, so, she does not get riled up about anything.
    Elevators.
    Sometimes, Zoomer may need to refuse your invitation to join you in the elevator.  Sometimes, the elevator is too small for her to maneuver within the elevator.  She enjoys riding with you, when it is possible.

Zoomer Chronicles: Global Maps and Positions

     Cartographic scale is deceptive.  Small scale maps minimize potential explorations, yet to be undertaken.  Large scale maps provide perspective necessary to orientation--spatial orientation.
     Zoomer empowers my exploration.  Yet, her power is conditional.  She is not compatible with other powers--any other systems.  Any desire to position myself systematically--globally--beyond the view of Zoomer's position--must be disengaged.
     The medium of old--paper--must guide my explorations.  Yet, all the paper does not determine my explorations.  With faith I begin, while logic and reason I suspend.  Were logic and reason to reign me in, I might never have discovered the Vento Regional Trail...the Ramsey County Medical Examiner...the Alexander Ramsey House...the Science Museum exterior exhibits...the Robert Street Bridge...the Wabasha Street Bridge...Lowertown....
     Logic and reason have not been trashed.  Come snowfall, they will reign me in.  Yet, between now and then, I must take leaps of faith crossing curb cuts, will strong strides crossing streets, and jinx not my adventures with confining precision.
     Zoomer, teach me your ways that we may weather the storms, be steady in snow.  Zoomer, I pray, may we learn how to travel from November to May in fresh air, confined to no inner sanctum.

Tables Turned

     Today, I finished another chapter in setting the wheels in motion toward a different life--getting beyond my home on my own power with the use of an electric wheelchair.  Hopefully, with doctor appointments, the requisite paperwork documenting my need, the wheelchair will be forthcoming soon.  I am not sure how to define "soon."  Days?  I doubt.  Several weeks? More likely.
     Tables turned?  Why?
     I am coming to terms with the tables turned.  For a lifetime, without much thought that there was an option, I strove to achieve Mom's mantra, "You will learn to live independently."  Anyone who dared to challenge that mantra was subject to my fierce defensiveness--a side to me whose strength I underestimated.
     Fast forward to July 2009.  A new lifetime--a new life orientation--began by necessity.  Rather than pounding on my chest with pride, "Look Mom, I am living independently," I was called to testify to my need for dependency.  It was an odd, uncomfortable--humbling--position in which to find myself.  Yet, that was where I was called to live--to be.

International Atomic Energy Agency

     Fifty individuals in Japan are working to ensure that one of the nuclear reactors is contained.  At least, that is my understanding.  Tonight, a commentator familiar with nuclear power issues, which I am not, asked where the International Atomic Energy Association was in managing this situation--this dire problem.
     My question is different.  If you are familiar with my thinking, that is of no surprise:)  Yet, what is my question.
     Who makes up the International Atomic Energy Association?  When was the IAEA created?  Where is it headquartered?
    There are 151 member nations that comprise the IAEA.  It was created in 1957.  It is headquartered in Vienna, Austria.  The organization is guided by a 35-member nation Board of Governors.  The Board of Governors include countries from each occupied continent.
     Proceeding alphabetically, the member nations from Asia from 2010-2011 are: Ajerbijan, China, India, Japan, South Korea, Mongolia, Pakistan, the Russian Federation, and Singapore.
     Australia is serving on the Board of Governors currently.  It has been a member of the IAEA since its founding in 1957.     
     For the 2010-2011 period, the European Board of Governors members are:   Belgium, Czech Republic, Denmark, France, Germany, Italy, Netherlands, Portugal, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.  
     Finally, Canada, and the United States are serving on the Board of Governors.  Both Canada and the United States were founding members of the IAEA.
      This may seem to be boring information.  It may not be exciting.  But, it is essential if we are to have anywhere approaching a full understanding of world affairs, and global relationships.
     My sense has been to think that the IAEA was one monolith, rather than a global consortium.
     Of concern should be the status of North Korea.  Although it was one of the founding members in 1957, North Korea withdrew its membership in the IAEA in 1994.  It is highly unlikely that under the current leadership in North Korea, that their view toward toward the IAEA will change.  Yet, when Kim Jong-il is no longer in power, will his successor take a different stance?  When a successor comes to governance, then working toward that goal seems worthy of consideration.
     It is worthy of note that Libya, Bahrain, the Ivory Coast, and Saudi Arabia are all members of the IAEA.  There is 
Similarly, both India and Pakistan are members of the IAEA.  These two countries have vast differences in their relations with one another.  Yet, those differences have not prevented them from joining forces with the IAEA.
     The price of not being aware of the other countries in our world is steep.  Afghanistan, Egypt, lran, Iraq, Libya, and Tunisia are examples of a lack of understanding the nuances of the countries--their people, ideologies, and cultures.  
     In addition to being aware of the International Atomic Energy Agency, there are other consortia worthy of our understanding.  I will explore them in future postings.  My aim is to identify what countries are members of multiple world partnerships, so as to understand how world peace may be furthered in our time.

Quality of Life

     Being a self-advocate in order to secure a wheelchair for myself--to improve the quality of my life--has led me to reflect on what quality of life is.  I guess it is not possible to establish a checklist--a grocery list--from which you may go to readily identified places, or people to secure the quality of life you are seeking.  That is tempting.  But, it is FAR from realistic.  Yet, some degree of that process must done, with the understanding that a simple checklist will not suffice.
    So, quality of life.  Recent days have brought home to me the questions--the answers to which--have guided me during the past year and a half, since I went on long-term disability.
    Quality of life.  Independence.  Movement.  Help.  Dependence.  Interdependence.  Accommodation.  Partnership.   Ankle foot orthotic.  Bone spurs.  Diagnosis.  Treatment Options.  Surgery.  Cerebral Palsy.  Health Insurance.  Handicap Accessible Doors.  Door Closers.  Family.  Friends.  Community.
    These words have punctuated my quality of life during the past year and eight months.  I am  navigating these words--these questions.  But, I am FAR from arriving at what I want.  It is hard to arrive at a point that I cannot see.  I don't remember what I want.
   Ten years ago, I enrolled in a master's degree program.  Nearly five years ago, family and friends celebrated with me the graduation as a master of library and information science.  Pictures, and a gown remind me of that woman.  Yet, I don't remember her.
   Two years and eight months ago, my 28 years of working full time ended suddenly.  I am not mourning work that I enjoyed.  I didn't.  Yet, I mourn that my determination to make the quality of that work life did not render a more fulfilling career.  I do hold precious a document I compiled--responses to a "Thank You For Your Friendship" e-mail message that I sent to 23 individuals with whom I had worked during 24 years.  These were individuals who I wanted to know what had happened to me.  I wrote the e-mail message knowing that I needed to bring a closure to the ending of a long chapter in my life.  I would not describe any of the 28 individuals as "close" friends.  Yet, we respected one another.  One of the 28 women has since been shot to death, literally, by her husband.  "A harsh ending" does not begin to do justice to the gravity of such a sad injustice.
     I return to the words of those 27 women, as I seek guidance-direction--as I seek to navigate defining phrases--Quality of life.  Independence.  Movement.  Help.  Dependence.  Interdependence.  Accommodation.  Partnership.   Ankle foot orthotic.  Bone spurs.  Diagnosis.  Treatment Options.  Surgery.  Cerebral Palsy.  Health Insurance.  Handicap Accessible Doors.  Door Closers.  Family.  Friends.  Community.
    Some questions have thrown me, and challenged every expectation of the life I can live.  Interdependence does not ring true to me.  It is contrived.  I prefer Collaboration.
     The line between Defensiveness and Willingness to Confront Necessary Realities is precarious, at best.  I don't want to be TOO willing to confront necessary realities whose time  may come to me earlier than I like--earlier than they might come to others.  The time that other people must confront necessary realities cannot be a source of embitterment to me.  That is pointless--destructive--for everyone involved.
     I called into question my own position on the Defensiveness versus Willingness to Confront Necessary Realities Teeter Totter yesterday.  I asked for more than I need at this moment regarding physical accessibility--doors that are handicap accessible.  That is my immediate need as I await getting a wheelchair.  I do make accommodations, and receive help such that a laundry room door and the door to the recycling bins do not need to be made accessible.  Logic being my guide, it seemed wise to take action while I had my courage up.
     A cold slap in the face was my wake-up call.  "By the time people reach that point [needing to have adaptations to laundry room, and parking ramp doors,] they get personal care attendants."
   "I am not ready.  I am not there yet.  I don't want to have my privacy violated--compromised."
    Defensive?  Fierce?  Stubborn?  Unrealistically independent? Unrealistic in my expectations?  Close-minded?  Narrow-minded?
    I hope not.
     Quality of life.  Independence.  Movement.  Help.  Dependence.  Interdependence.  Accommodation.  Partnership.   Ankle foot orthotic.  Bone spurs.  Diagnosis.  Treatment Options.  Surgery.  Cerebral Palsy.  Health Insurance.  Handicap Accessible Doors.  Door Closers.  Family.  Friends.  Community.
     Some issues have been solved.  Others remain.
     Quality of Life.

Dependence's Reconciliation

     What will dependence demand of me to reconcile?
     I have never been good at reconciliation--my bank account--my physical needs.  Neither have been my strengths.  I had a strong inner sense of both balances.  My bank balance has been more stable than my physical balance.  I knew the limits of both--or so I thought--so, I did not waste my anxiety on balance--on those balances.  I lived within my means--or so I thought.
     Ray--I am too young to be called "Grandpa"--spoke treasured words to me in the last years of his life.  My grandmother having died, Ray lived with us.  Listening to this beloved storyteller share his life experiences, I knew the younger alterego of this shy man had quite a temper.  He had deeply ingrained stereotypes not softened by age.  So, his words are all the more treasured.  "When I die, don't feel sad.  I have made amends with everyone I had differences with.  Ray was no scholar.  But, Ray was brilliant in his understanding of reconciliation.  I try to live by Ray's words.  Yet, I do better in reconciling with others than I do in reconciling with my self--with my body.
      My physical balance is changing.  My stamina long gone, my physical balance demands my attention.  I am called to reconcile my life's accounting--my balance of independence at one end of the teeter totter and dependence at the other end.  I have tried to brace myself for the radical changes that lay ahead.  Literally, I brace myself from my foot to my calf--you could say that I am on the right side of bracing myself.  I am physically.  Time will tell whether I am on the right side of bracing myself fully for the future.
    Physical balance demands putting one foot in front of the other.  Physical balance demands deliberation of movement.  Balanced living demands of me now deliberation of mind.
    Yesterday's step toward balance was to answer the second of three questions. "What will dependence demand of me to reconcile?"  
    My question's posing was to an independent contractor, whose product and services I was seeking.  I accepted that he had the mechanical knowledge I needed.  I presumed that to be enough to meet our mutual needs.  Yet, I was surprised to be told that I did not need to do a certain task.  He  seemed to dismiss my need.  Would the electric wheelchair enable me to open doors, get through my bedroom door, most notably?  I know my weakness for defensiveness.  I tried to disrobe myself of any defensiveness.
     I am willing to hear that I may not be able to accomplish a given task--perform a given maneuver--with this machine--with this alien entering my life.  I may not like the answer I am given.  But, I must ask the question if I am to be able to accommodate my life to a changing body.  I must receive answers.
     I may not be able to be independent as I have known myself to be for 50 years.  Yet, if I am to proceed with any semblance of independence, even if I am not, I need to know.  If all independence is taken from me, I need to know so that I make other arrangements to live differently.  For now, all of my independence is not being taken from me.  Yet, I do need to have as much information as possible to allow me to do a different form of life planning than I ever imagined.  I did not have a full appreciation of the partnership--the co-conspiratorial relationship between cerebral palsy and aging.  I could put my head in the sand.  I could ignore--deny---the issues, considerations, and questions that my future may call me to address.  But, I cannot fixate myself--every day's breath--with anxiety regarding what is to come.  I am called to acknowledge what I may not like now, while I have such a deep sense of love and support from family, friends, a worshiping community surrounding me.
      What will dependence demand of me to reconcile? 

Dignity's Pecularities

    Dignity.
    The image that comes to mind is a woman dressed in an elegant black blouse, a fuschia fabric belt, and a floral floor-length skirt.  Her gray hair is adorned with a matching long black scarf that was wound through her fine strands.  Her cheeks are patted with pink powder.  That is the surface of Mrs. Dignity.  Dignity's prescribed behavior matches her elegant gown.  A diamond ring on her ring finger makes clear, she has invested herself in a lifetime with a well-respected, hard-working man, who has provided her a comfortable life. They had the requisite three children.  Her children married.  They provided her with grandchildren for her doting.  She survived the normal ups and downs of any marriage.  Clearly, he had died, but, she did not die with him.  She rekindled an old friendship--her gentleman friend.  She has survived with a quiet air of confidence.  Her emotions are spent on her children--her grandchildren.  But, as to the challenges--the disappointments, the opportunities--life in her time did not afford, she said nothing.
    That is dignity's face in my stereotype's vision.
    I feel far from dignity's face.  Yet, something pulls at me--some vague, amoebic form that escapes my grasp, much less my firm hold.  What pulls at me is a stranger I have not met, or do not recognize, if I have met her.  What pulls at me is not for bravado's ego to claim.  At least, I don't think so.  Selfish? I may be pulled more for my self to claim.  I hope it is somewhere on the teeter totter between bravado and selfishness.  That is beyond me to know at this moment.
    Still ambulatory, I wheeled into an hourlong test drive--to test the power a chair will provide into a future whose physical boundaries I may know in this life's moment.  Perceptive rather than sensate on Myers Briggs scale, I exceed what is natural.  I write a checklist of my 730-foot condominium.  Where do I need to travel--where will I need to travel if I lose my ambulation---lose more than distance's stamina, which has been taken from me. I succeed in my inventory--my checklist for my hourlong evaluation.  I have itemized my travel needs, my task needs, and my needs for recreational pursuits in my home.  Unknown to my conscious self, I have created a three-part questionnaire for the evaluation.  First, what may I do with the power chair, now?  Second, what will I be capable of doing given practice.  Third, what will I need to ask others to do because it is beyond my capacity to do?
    I enter the evaluation with quiet confidence.  My checklist is in place.  It is in writing for my reliance.  My questionnaire is ready for the answering.  I am ready for the answers.  Or, so I think.  After all, this checklist--these answers--are at the heart of wheeling forward in my life with some semblance of interdependence.
     The checklist--the questionnaire--is at the heart of defining three terms in my future's essence.
     What will independence include?
     What will dependence demand of me to reconcile?
     How will the equation of interdependence be formulated?
     Some ask of any life's dilemmas, "What would Jesus do?"
     A different voice--a different face comes to mind.  She is in no competition with Jesus.  No.  A different voice--a different face--presents herself to me now.
    Six months before death, she sat.  Ravaged by breast cancer--by a radical mastectomy--long before medicine's advances, she sat in her manual wheelchair.  From the dining room table to the living room, her 14-year-old--her youngest--granddaughter wheeled her.  A loving, albeit overprotective life history together, she said, "I bet you never thought you would see your grandmother like this."  Though never voiced then, "No, I never did."  Now, lo these many years later, the answer of my own question's asking still is, "No, I never did."