Today on Facebook I shared this post. There's some language, sorry. I have kids and multiple friends with invisible illnesses. I commented, "Yes. After my bout of vertigo earlier this year, I can testify that it's possible to go from 'normal' (stop laughing) to 'uh-oh' literally overnight. Health is a continuum."
I said it, and I meant it. And I have a slightly different perspective regarding the handicapped stalls in bathrooms. For most of my life I've carefully stayed out of them whenever possible because I've been reasonably fit and reasonably mobile. The strain of Beloved's illness took a toll on both of us, and my body's not been quite the same since. (Shortly before he passed, we were taking turns with the electric cart at Costco if only one was available.) And I discovered that it was far easier to let myself down onto the commode if I held onto the safety rail on the side of the stall, and exponentially easier to get back up again. I defer to the two women on our floor who use canes regularly and the one who uses one occasionally, but otherwise that's my spot, thank you.
I'm tempted to make a sign to tape on the outside of the door. Something along the lines of, "If you wouldn't dream of parking your car in a handicapped space, why are you parking your derriere in the handicapped stall when there are at least four of us on this floor who genuinely need it?"
OK, I'm done.
In knitting news, I finished the I-cord around the top edge of Justice's vest and have picked up all of the stitches down the back and across the bottom edge. Just need to pick up the stitches running up the front and then it's a long, long slog all the way around those three edges.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!