Good Days/Bad Days

Yesterday was a Good Day. It had been a slightly annoying weekend. One neighbor kept parking in front of our house. Another had a loud party.

However, the party animal made sure OUR party animal, Bubba-cat, had a nice sized rib off the BBQ. I hope it was a gift! Bubba WAS raised in the alley. I felt very kindly towards them after that.

The other neighbor issue was addressed by a note from Ron, stating a few facts about his inability to walk due to painful nerve disease and the need for free parking space in front of our home for paratransit. I had a hard time with that; I wanted to "get out the hatchet" (my old nickname, Heather the Hatchet, was, you could say, earned) and go off on the kid. I prayed about it repeatedly (I just KNEW the whole time the Devil was trying to push my button, too) and said, "OK, Ron's an adult, it's Ron's problem, really. Let Ron manage it." He had a logical sequence: Leave a note on the car. Then talk to the parents. It wasn't necessary. The kid understood and how could he refuse?

Yesterday we didn't have any trips. I didn't really want to go anywhere when Ron asked, and then he slept past the scheduling deadline. We woke up; I had a horrible headache. I have decided I don't have to tell Ron every bad thing in detail. If he asks, I will answer honestly without a lot of drama and detail. But if he doesn't ask I will act as though everything is OK.

Horrible headache, I took some Excedrin and a nice hot shower. They worked. Thanks to the caffeine in the excedrin, I had tons of energy too. So when Ron said "Hey, let's take the wheelchair and have a Day Out!" I said "Sure!"

I put on a microfiber t-shirt, plenty of sunscreen, bermuda shorts, and sunscreen. I wear Bermuda shorts for several reasons, the primary probably being the fact that every Metrolift yellow cab has fabric seats. The fabric seats are stained with various fluids. I don't want bare skin on that. Also, modesty issues. I don't feel comfortable flashing a lot of thigh as I sit down. I have only ever had professionals but I did feel a little awkward talking about God, and 6 inches of thigh sticking out under my skort hem. So it's Bermudas, unless God leads me to wear something else. I'm glad I can wear what I want and not that horrible getup they endure in the Middle East.

I donned a good pair of sneakers. I have been very happy with my Walmart sneakers. They have cute shoes, in the Men's wide sizes. I have to wear a Men's Wide, because I have a large circumfrence on my feet. My feet are about 9 inches in circumfrence, and about 9 inches long. Odd. Anyway, my feet are happy in these shoes. Ron bought me one pair, and I got the other for less than $20.

Ron jumped in the wheelchair and we rolled off down the road. People seem to find us "cute".

We got to the bus stop and waited. I made sure Ron was under the tree. We are in summer mode and it's in the 90's most days, sunny, and humid. We caught the transfer and got a couple of sodas at "My" gas station. We waited a bit, and caught the other one. I handed out some Driver Candy.

We got off and I pushed Ron under an overpass. It had quite the accretion of pigeon poop. It was moist and sticky after the rain, and got stuck on the wheels of the wheelchair. EEEEEEW. I kept rolling him through grass, gravel, etc, trying to get it off.

We checked out a few restaurants and I read him some menus. My sister called and I parked Ron, sat down on the curb, and chattered away. Ron complimented my listening skills after I hung up. :) I would like to be a decent listener at least. We finished, and we decided to go to "Bob's".

We love "Bob's" - we found it on another Day Out on the bus, with the wheelchair. We rolled in, checked out the menu, and decided to eat. They offer a good variety for both of us. We have taken others to Bob's.

We rolled in and saw Lee, our favorite waiter. He is addicted to some of the spicy Spanish candy I hand out - Pulparindo - a tamarind/chili pepper fruit roll up type of candy. You could not pay me to eat one. Anyway, everytime I go I end up handing out tons of driver candy and Bibles. In fact, I saw Lee pull a New Testament out of a hidey-hole, and show it to another server, pointing at me, as he ate some new candy I'd just given him. Fun!

We ate. The Wellbutrin has me pretty queasy so I saved half my food for Ron to eat later. Then we went off to Starbucks. I had one of my "things" and handed out a little more candy. Ron called a cab to get home, it was a great guy we both liked.

I got to bed at a decent hour but had a hard time dropping off. Got up early, did some of my Bible Study and prayer time. I did bag up tons of candy and several more Bibles. Our ride came; we were taking the wheelchair today.

I understand it upsets the drivers, because they like us, when they see that Ron "needs" a wheelchair more now. When they go "What? You need a wheelchair now?" I generally either react with "The sex was so excellent it put Ron in the wheelchair" or "Yeah, nerve disease, real bummer... blah blah". Sad truth, he has gotten a lot worse in the last couple years. It is awful to hear him coughing from the Neurontin and to know I can't even thump him on the back without causing him pain. Some people greet Ron with an affectionate thump on the back; oh, he wishes they WOULDN'T.

I have gotten in the habit of asking if I can hug him or cuddle; a lot of times he says no, he is too sensitive. It's like all the nerve endings are alive and electrified, especially in his back, waist, and feet. Occasionally he says it's OK, he has just taken his medication and feels OK.

So, the drivers hate to see Ron "worse". I know they gossip, that's fine. Hopefully the word will get out that he isn't really up for any walking these days. I tell them, he can walk, it's just extremely painful.

We had about an hour's ride to work. We had to go WAY out of our way to pick up a guy who kept making romantic overtures towards the driver, and kept asking me who I was every 3 minutes. [blink] I was glad I had gotten the front seat. If I covet anything, it is the "good" front passenger seat in the Metrolift cab. Ron sits behind me.

We got to work, I pushed Ron in, using good old Ironsides the travel chair. Ron transferred to his work wheelchair - never in a million years would I have dreamed my blind, stroke victim, nerve-diseased husband would get into his work wheelchair.... but he did. We did our stocking. Candy did well in my snack machines, I had to buy more.

I helped Ron, like I always do. Deliveries, fetching stuff for him, putting things away, and an exciting time mashing up old cardboard in the stockroom and cramming it into our dumpster. Finally, time to go.

We went out, me pushing Ron in the chair, and our ride was already there. We know her well, she is a sweetie.

We had a pretty straight trip to the mall and looked around. I went to the Dollar Store and got my Pulparindo. I plan to bring Lee his own 24-count box of the stuff. At those prices, I can afford to be generous. I gave a Bible to the owner, who was obviously Muslim. He was very nice about taking it. If I feel led to do it, they always are.

Ron checked his lotto tickets. We got some food, looked around a little, and left. Time to go. The lady who picked us up was the one who'd dropped us off at work.

"Are you OK? You look like you're about to pass out, Heather!" I felt like it, too. Medication was whalloping me. I don't know why, but I just felt very disconnected, thick, dizzy, and lightheaded. It persisted for most of the day.

She took us to Sam's Club - we needed some merchandise. I was considering the purchase of some driver candy. It was really crazy busy. I finally decided, we will go back soon. I will get the candy then.

I had my hands full with two flats of pastries, 2 giant cubes of Mountain Dew soda, and some assorted candy for work. The driver who picked us up is very nice.

We had a straight trip home, and I pretty much went right to bed. I still feel really lightheaded, goofy. Like I could go right back to bed and sleep a while. You would think I'd feel this way after donating blood, I never do. I think the medication is just smacking me today.

Today, I remind myself: I have a serious illness. When Hot Legs, the other vendor, heard me coming, he didn't shut and lock himself in his stockroom like he used to do. He sought me out. His wife smiled at me when she saw me. People walked towards me, instead of away from me. And Ron smiled from his wheelchair.

Nothing is more important than controlling my illness; I never allow myself to forget.