I have struggled to advise a family member as to how to fulfill their unique human potential. Knowing the position of respect bestowed on me has given me a sense of responsibility. Only following the Boston Marathon Bombings have I been given an inkling as to how to fulfill my responsibility.
My family member lacks the sense of how to fulfill his adult responsibilities--fulfill his human potential. Ascribing responsibilities on other intimates how they have failed their responsibiltiies to my family member has clouded his willingness to look at his own human potential--the gift he has been given by God--by his belief in God. I know that belief exists in him. I do not know the form of belief.
My belief--the form of my belief--calls me to offer something.
From an unlikely source--the Boston Marathon Bombings suspect--I understand one way--one something--I may offer.
Optimist--idealist--that I am, recent years have taught me, "life is not perfect." Self-pity is not the sum of that equation in my life. So where does that leave me--how does that affect my offering to my family member.
A List. An Itemized--A Humbling List.
If My Life Was Perfect...
I Would Not:
Need to wear my ankle foot orthotic--my brace on my right leg
Need to walk long distances with a cane
Need to use a wheelchair
Need to take medication to control my intentional tremors
Need to take anticonvulsants to control my seizures
Need to grab the right handrail with my left hand when walking up or down a flight of stairs
I Would Not Fear:
Outstretching my left hand--lose the use of my left and right hand by:
Opening doorknobs
Carrying heavy bags of groceries
Carrying heavy loads of laundry
My capacity to stand up from the ground
People Would:
Think my handwriting was beautiful
Showing posts with label physically-challenged. Show all posts
Showing posts with label physically-challenged. Show all posts
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Friday, September 16, 2011
Zoomer Chronicles: Safety's Anger
This morning, Zoomer met fraternal twins--Safety's Anger, and Anger's Safety. Mirror images of one another, they are born of the same root. Danger. Fear.
A return to swimming was my dear ankle's hope. Pool maintenance. Facility remodeling.
A return to swimming was not to be. Not this day. Ankle's hope was dashed--dashed far short of 50 yards.
An elevator. Button pushed. A short wait. Doors opened. Zoomer wheeled in--turned around. Facing forward. Third floor's button pushed. Ankle's Hope salivating. Slow and crotchety though she was known to be, today, this elevator went nowhere fast.
Door Open's button pushed. As an accordion opens, so too the doors. Yet, just as with a fast, bad polka, an accordion closes, so too did the doors. Though Zoomer is learning to dance, the polka is not her step.
Though armed with her cell phone--a Jitterbug, I kid you not--my ankle's hope kicked back at me. Angry. With the weight of a bowling ball on her, my ankle's hope was to kick off her burden. One more time, she implored me. Third floor button, one more time. Once again, Zoomer, my ankle's hope, and I went nowhere fast.
Though Jitterbug tried to call to Ankle's Hope, she would hear none of it. Take me home, Zoomer. Take me home.
Safety's anger. She prevailed. Safety's Anger drove Zoomer and I out of Harm's Way.
Though Ankle's Hope kicked high, she fell flat into Zoomer's lap. No harm. Just anger. Frustration. Door Open's button hit. Zoomer and I sped forward. To Safety, we arrived.
No sign. Out of Order. No sign.
Anger's safety. Though Safety's Anger had spoken--rescued--now it was for Anger's Safety to speak.
To quiet solitude, find your way. Let Anger rest, let Safety's Advocate cry forth in due time.
Impatience overruled quiet solitude. A simple report. "Your elevator is out of order."
"The elevator repairman has been called. They should be out sometime today."
Safety's Anger yet satisfied, though Logic told her she should be.
"You are new to this world, there were many signs not posted before you. Many signs will not be posted in years yet to come."
Yet,"Where is the Out of Order sign--Safety's Warning?" was all this impatient soul could ask.
A return to swimming was my dear ankle's hope. Pool maintenance. Facility remodeling.
A return to swimming was not to be. Not this day. Ankle's hope was dashed--dashed far short of 50 yards.
An elevator. Button pushed. A short wait. Doors opened. Zoomer wheeled in--turned around. Facing forward. Third floor's button pushed. Ankle's Hope salivating. Slow and crotchety though she was known to be, today, this elevator went nowhere fast.
Door Open's button pushed. As an accordion opens, so too the doors. Yet, just as with a fast, bad polka, an accordion closes, so too did the doors. Though Zoomer is learning to dance, the polka is not her step.
Though armed with her cell phone--a Jitterbug, I kid you not--my ankle's hope kicked back at me. Angry. With the weight of a bowling ball on her, my ankle's hope was to kick off her burden. One more time, she implored me. Third floor button, one more time. Once again, Zoomer, my ankle's hope, and I went nowhere fast.
Though Jitterbug tried to call to Ankle's Hope, she would hear none of it. Take me home, Zoomer. Take me home.
Safety's anger. She prevailed. Safety's Anger drove Zoomer and I out of Harm's Way.
Though Ankle's Hope kicked high, she fell flat into Zoomer's lap. No harm. Just anger. Frustration. Door Open's button hit. Zoomer and I sped forward. To Safety, we arrived.
No sign. Out of Order. No sign.
Anger's safety. Though Safety's Anger had spoken--rescued--now it was for Anger's Safety to speak.
To quiet solitude, find your way. Let Anger rest, let Safety's Advocate cry forth in due time.
Impatience overruled quiet solitude. A simple report. "Your elevator is out of order."
"The elevator repairman has been called. They should be out sometime today."
Safety's Anger yet satisfied, though Logic told her she should be.
"You are new to this world, there were many signs not posted before you. Many signs will not be posted in years yet to come."
Yet,"Where is the Out of Order sign--Safety's Warning?" was all this impatient soul could ask.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Zoomer Chronicles: A Fine Line
This morning, I ventured out to review problematic intersections and issues in Downtown St. Paul. The adventure heightens my attention to several facts.
After having three drivers cut in front of me in controlled intersections--in a period of two weeks--it seemed I needed to draw attention to the overlooked safety issues. I want to be prepared for the yet-to-be scheduled time with a television producer to highlight--to focus, literally--attention on public safety issues.
Several personal facts have come to light in recent days. While I do what I can to highlight public safety issues for others, I need to combat internal issues.
First, I have retreated from a healthy pace of travelling within the downtown area.
Second, timidity and fear replaced determination and confidence--not riskiness, but confidence.
Cooler weather intensifies my concern that I will be isolated by poorly-shoveled sidewalks, and ice. I need to back up. This will be my first winter with Zoomer. Questions abound.
What are Zoomer's intended capacities in the outside during wintertime? Am I realistic to expect that I might have some outside travel capacities during the winter? What will my limitations be? What accommodations are open to me? Are there additional safety precautions that might improve, or extend my capacity to travel outside during the Minnesota winter months?
I know that I should not expose Zoomer to rainy weather. I know that I should not expect to navigate ice.
I know that Zoomer can--will be able to--navigate the skyway system during winter months. [The skyway system is a Godsend. The system of enclosed walkways between downtown buildings--walkways located on the second floors of buildings--do wonders in curbing a paralyzing isolation that would occur otherwise.]
As wonderful as skyways are, it is extremely important to get outside--to be exposed to the sun--to all elements of the out of doors. Oddly, prior to Zoomer, having to be outside was not an issue, or priority for me. I took for granted my capacity to get outside and be outside.
Interesting what it takes to challenge one's values, and priorities. Coming days and months will clarify what, if any realignment of values, and priorities occurs.
After having three drivers cut in front of me in controlled intersections--in a period of two weeks--it seemed I needed to draw attention to the overlooked safety issues. I want to be prepared for the yet-to-be scheduled time with a television producer to highlight--to focus, literally--attention on public safety issues.
Several personal facts have come to light in recent days. While I do what I can to highlight public safety issues for others, I need to combat internal issues.
First, I have retreated from a healthy pace of travelling within the downtown area.
Second, timidity and fear replaced determination and confidence--not riskiness, but confidence.
Cooler weather intensifies my concern that I will be isolated by poorly-shoveled sidewalks, and ice. I need to back up. This will be my first winter with Zoomer. Questions abound.
What are Zoomer's intended capacities in the outside during wintertime? Am I realistic to expect that I might have some outside travel capacities during the winter? What will my limitations be? What accommodations are open to me? Are there additional safety precautions that might improve, or extend my capacity to travel outside during the Minnesota winter months?
I know that I should not expose Zoomer to rainy weather. I know that I should not expect to navigate ice.
I know that Zoomer can--will be able to--navigate the skyway system during winter months. [The skyway system is a Godsend. The system of enclosed walkways between downtown buildings--walkways located on the second floors of buildings--do wonders in curbing a paralyzing isolation that would occur otherwise.]
As wonderful as skyways are, it is extremely important to get outside--to be exposed to the sun--to all elements of the out of doors. Oddly, prior to Zoomer, having to be outside was not an issue, or priority for me. I took for granted my capacity to get outside and be outside.
Interesting what it takes to challenge one's values, and priorities. Coming days and months will clarify what, if any realignment of values, and priorities occurs.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
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….
Crossed wires….jangled nerves….
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Safe Communication--Communicating Safety
Today, communicating personal safety via a safe vehicle came to my consciousness. How? By what vehicles?
Several factors motivate my desire to communicate personal safety. A lifelong history of seizures. Being single. A desire to leave "breadcrumbs" as to my general whereabouts--my general well-being.
Voicemail. Audible breadcrumbs are the humorous voicemail messages that I leave conveying my whereabouts.
Facebook? I have been very slow to understand how I want to use Facebook in my life. No technology is inherently evil, as is sometimes implied. That is a copout. It is the use of the technology, or application that determines the value of the application.
Facebook. I was introduced by a younger relative, someone in his 20s. I am 51. I was motivated to learn about Facebook as a means of communicating better with my relative. So, I observed on the sidelines. I was reticent to engage in the technological party line of the 21st century.
Voicemail. Facebook. Breadcrumbs. I have changed. My understanding of human interaction has changed dramatically since 2009. I was familiar with communicating in the workplace..with my family...with my friends...with my faith community...Zoomer.
My e-mail system was unavailable temporarily tonight. Twenty years ago that would have been inconceivable. Funny how just a few years can make some vehicle of communication indispensable. Loss of Internet access is worse yet. Funny. Yet, true.
Yes, in moderation, Facebook. I am aware of my generational distinction with my younger relatives in relation to Facebook.
In 2009 and 2010, the Internet, and e-mail became a critical connection to the outside world. Now, Zoomer has mitigated some of the isolation that made the Internet, and e-mail such a vital connection in my life. Now, as Zoomer and I explore our environs, and get to know one another, sharing that story electronically has expanded my understanding fundamentally.
How we live--how we feel about our lives--is a choice. Giving up on our lives is inexcusable. Feigning weakness is nothing more than an unwillingness to make a positive commitment to our lives. Facebook, and, I guess blogs are different ways to explore--to share--that commitment.
In the workplace, trying to navigate challenges, my default behavior was to exude optimism, in hopes of generating it in other people. I continue in that mode today. It is selfish. Optimism returned is a source of enormous strength.
I try to use voicemail, email, and Facebook for two purposes--communicate my own safety, and share
my convictions regarding optimism via my experiences with Zoomer. Truth be told, I don't know where Zoomer and I are headed. No, I have a street atlas. It is summer in Minnesota, or so they say. Winter in Minnesota lasts forever. Summer is a fleeting moment in time. Winter, snow, and ice will come. How far will Zoomer and I be able to travel? Regardless of weather, how far may Zoomer and I travel? Both questions--the fears regarding answers to those questions are in the back of my mind. Yet, I must focus on today--on today's adventures--to mitigate my fears. I must choose to commit myself to today's adventures. If I choose not to commit myself, then, I have no one to blame, but myself, for being unfulfilled.
Several factors motivate my desire to communicate personal safety. A lifelong history of seizures. Being single. A desire to leave "breadcrumbs" as to my general whereabouts--my general well-being.
Voicemail. Audible breadcrumbs are the humorous voicemail messages that I leave conveying my whereabouts.
Facebook? I have been very slow to understand how I want to use Facebook in my life. No technology is inherently evil, as is sometimes implied. That is a copout. It is the use of the technology, or application that determines the value of the application.
Facebook. I was introduced by a younger relative, someone in his 20s. I am 51. I was motivated to learn about Facebook as a means of communicating better with my relative. So, I observed on the sidelines. I was reticent to engage in the technological party line of the 21st century.
Voicemail. Facebook. Breadcrumbs. I have changed. My understanding of human interaction has changed dramatically since 2009. I was familiar with communicating in the workplace..with my family...with my friends...with my faith community...Zoomer.
My e-mail system was unavailable temporarily tonight. Twenty years ago that would have been inconceivable. Funny how just a few years can make some vehicle of communication indispensable. Loss of Internet access is worse yet. Funny. Yet, true.
Yes, in moderation, Facebook. I am aware of my generational distinction with my younger relatives in relation to Facebook.
In 2009 and 2010, the Internet, and e-mail became a critical connection to the outside world. Now, Zoomer has mitigated some of the isolation that made the Internet, and e-mail such a vital connection in my life. Now, as Zoomer and I explore our environs, and get to know one another, sharing that story electronically has expanded my understanding fundamentally.
How we live--how we feel about our lives--is a choice. Giving up on our lives is inexcusable. Feigning weakness is nothing more than an unwillingness to make a positive commitment to our lives. Facebook, and, I guess blogs are different ways to explore--to share--that commitment.
In the workplace, trying to navigate challenges, my default behavior was to exude optimism, in hopes of generating it in other people. I continue in that mode today. It is selfish. Optimism returned is a source of enormous strength.
I try to use voicemail, email, and Facebook for two purposes--communicate my own safety, and share
my convictions regarding optimism via my experiences with Zoomer. Truth be told, I don't know where Zoomer and I are headed. No, I have a street atlas. It is summer in Minnesota, or so they say. Winter in Minnesota lasts forever. Summer is a fleeting moment in time. Winter, snow, and ice will come. How far will Zoomer and I be able to travel? Regardless of weather, how far may Zoomer and I travel? Both questions--the fears regarding answers to those questions are in the back of my mind. Yet, I must focus on today--on today's adventures--to mitigate my fears. I must choose to commit myself to today's adventures. If I choose not to commit myself, then, I have no one to blame, but myself, for being unfulfilled.
Monday, April 4, 2011
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.
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.
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