I had this beautiful entry written about the trials and tribulations of being in a wheelchair because like, I finally got mine, and my computer ate it.

Basically, I've been finding out what a pain in the ass it is.

People see the extra space in handicapped parking spaces as a place to put shopping carts. Hell, even I have used them that way, only now that I am actually needing accoutrements to get around, I understand WHY they have extra space in handicapped parking spots -- it's just so you can get out of the freaking car with your wheelchair or crutches or cane or whatever. People who park in those spots have special needs and lots of equipment.

Suffice it to say, I will plan to walk the extra 100 feet and put the damned shopping cart where it belongs, even if the kids have to walk with me. I had somehow excused myself because I had a car full of kids and I will never use that excuse again.

Also, doors are wide enough for you to get a wheelchair through, however, the contractors don't take into consideration your hands and fingers that actually wheel you through. I've had my fingers clipped so much that I ought to be wearing protective gloves or something. In a few stores, I've had to ask people to actually just shove me through the damned door. It's humiliating. I can't imagine having to live like this. I would truly love some payback -- take a couple of contractors stuff them in a wheelchair and have them try to get around.

And bathrooms are the worst.

I swear even the ones that have handicapped insignia on the outside are LYING their butts off. You might be able to get a chair IN there, but getting it out is another matter. There is often no space for you AND the wheelchair. Or you get into the bathroom, but there's no way to turn around to shut the door short of getting out of the chair. Fortunately, I can do this, but what about folks who can't?

The other thing is that they put handicapped bathrooms all the way in the back, so you have to wheel your way through all those people getting in and out of the bathroom stalls in tight spaces and apologize the entire way -- just to go pee and then do the same thing coming out. The other thing is that because your hands aren't washed as you leave the stall, you're touching your wheelchair and crutches after using a public restroom BEFORE you can wash your hands. So not only do I wash my hands after using the public restroom, I also wash the stuff my hands touch because EW!

Yesterday, I put my crutches in the back of the wheelchair, so I could park outside the bathroom and then crutch into pee because wheeling in there is SOOOO not worth it.

The other thing is that there are a lot of places that claim to be accessible, but are accessible only within the confines of bare minimum law. Getting around the corners and through the maze that some places can be is very difficult. For example, I literally bounced off the walls with my knuckles getting around the corners of the hallway to the handicapped bathroom at a mall yesterday, trying to avoid hurting folks, when I took Genny to a birthday party.

For another example of this, try going through the clothing section of most stores in a wheelchair and see if you don't eat a lot of price tags. I tell ya. The other thing is that there are often stores that put stuff up on the walls and they don't leave you a stick to get stuff down, so you're sitting in your chair admiring some blouse on the wall that you can't get to. And retail ain't exactly known for having lots of friendly helpful employees.

And honestly, a lot of folks in wheelchairs aren't in them for a long time. There are a lot of people like me who are waiting for their surgery or are recovering from surgery and will be back to walking upright. They've stopped and told me that -- "Hey, I was like you a month ago -- I just started being able to walk last week on my own."

I swear, I could advocate easily for wheelchair bound individuals -- like in a heartbeat, baby.

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And my knee?

Swollen up to epic proportions. I swear, my knee is going to have stretch marks from this. It's so big and awful. I haven't quite gotten to breaking blood vessels again, but I'm really close. I actually have a bit of a shadow on the top of it right now, so I think I'm getting there.

Yesterday, we had dinner at Silvia's and I didn't do tons, but what I did was more than I should. I felt so stupid. And last night I paid -- all night long.

But I did get to eat some awesome hamburgers from the bbq. Tom had bought some meat freshly ground at a butcher's and wanted hamburgers and someone to share them with. Silvia was going to make corn, but the corn delivery person didn't bring it (her nephew). So I sent Mike back to the house to get a big can of Bush's baked beans. We sauteed some onions, I ground up some mustard seeds and put in a bit of maple syrup -- the beans were awesome. Silvia sliced all kinds of goodies for the burgers -- avocados, onions, tomatoes, lettuce, etc. I brought some zucchini relish. And Tom brought the frozen french fries in a bag that you bake in the oven. I swear it was just a big comfort food meal and really lovely to spend the time with such dear friends.

My knee, however, was not thrilled that I took things back and forth to the table and that I helped cook in the kitchen with Silvia. It was unhappy that I chose to leave my crutches in the car to go up and down the stairs into and out of the house and wander around. It was not happy that I got up to check on Genny several times. Generally, it was very miserable and screeched very loudly for vicodan, often. I took my one vicodan at my appointed times, wished I'd taken two, and waited patiently for going to bed. When I got home, I took two and went to bed with a bag of ice perched on my knee.

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With the advent of spring, we have the invasion of the rodents. We have a mouse living in my closet and we have finally closed the door and put a glue trap in there, so he can't get out for water. Every night, we hear him shuffling about a little less. I've finally gotten stern with Mike and told him to put a little peanutbutter on a snap trap so we can trap it, kill it, and be done.

In the kitchen, Russell has just informed me that the glue trap has claimed yet another victim.

It must be spring by BLM land, huh?