Hi Darling Ones,

Using a wheelchair “out in the community” is a trip.

My unjanky wheelchair arrived Thursday, delivered by a man with tiny American flag jewelry on his shoelaces. I’m not entirely sure what to call it. It was like this little flag pins politicians wear on their lapels, but on the laces of his brown leather shoes.

Because nothing scares me more than being alone in my house with a white guy my age, I learned so much about him. He has two daughters, one’s 26, he’s 48 and 5’10”, and has worked in medical mobility/medical equipment for 20+ years. His wife is much shorter than he is but her legs are the same length as his. He tried community college in Ely, but it wasn’t for him. Sometimes his older female clients flirt with him (to which I replied, “that’s creepy”). He likes taking things apart and putting them back together again. He has to do that frequently with motorized scooters. He agreed with me that most medical equipment is not built for people 6’5″.

Anxiety is fun!

Now that Ruby Vroom (dubbed so because she’s red like my truck and vroom because it’s funny and also “Ruby Vroom” is the name of Soul Coughing’s first album) is in my possession, Sister #4 is taking me on small outings so I can build up arm strength.

I need to get my stamina up for the John Cougar Mellencamp concert in July and the State Fair in August. That’s right, ya girl is FINALLY gonna see Johnny Cougar in concert. He’s playing in Shakopee at the, as yet unfinished, Mystic Lake Amphitheater. It’s practically my backyard and it’ll be a gentle first concert in Ruby Vroom. Sister #4 got me tickets for my birthday. I told her I’d get the chili dogs.

For Rube’s inaugural outing I got my hair cut and then went to Trader Joe’s.

And, as I said, it was a trip.

Aside from a short trip to Michael’s last summer, I haven’t been inside a store since the before before times. We’re talking before COVID and before my stroke.

I don’t know if it was the wheelchair that made me invisible or if people have grown alarmingly inconsiderate and unaware since the plague. People acted as though I wasn’t even there. There eyes glided right over or through me. They didn’t move or make even the slightest accommodation for me and Ruby.

Normal-sized Sister #4 said this was how people always acted. I was floored. Rarely, in my life, did I go so unnoticed. I was used to being stared at wherever I went. People moved out go my way either consciously or unconsciously because of, I suspect, my size. Maybe people can tell when someone is looming above them.

Is this how y’all live on the regular?

There was one woman who did see me, thankfully. I got stuck in the flower section, Sister #4 away in the bread aisle, and could not get out of a tight corner. There were jackasses behind me so I couldn’t reverse and a bucket of purple flowers in my way so I couldn’t make the turn. A kind woman saw my distress and moved the buckets for me.

Aside from nearly taking out an entire display of tulips due to bad steering there were no major calamities. Sister #4 did almost dump me outta the chair trying to power me over a curb cut, but we recovered, barely.

She was pushing me so hard my ass came off the chair and I was nearly horizontal. “Oof,” I said as I eyed the nearing pavement before falling back into the chair. A young woman watched the whole thing with a bewildered look on her face as Sister #4 and I burst out laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe and I was crying.

“Oof,” I said repeatedly on the way home laughing and crying the whole way.

Getting there,
Jodi

P.S. I’m too frugal for Trader Joe’s goodies. Thanks to my apathy for tulips I only spent $28 on carrots, potatoes, beans, coffee, and a small bag of dark chocolate peanut butter cups. If they had dahlias or zinnias I’d be bankrupt right now. The flowers sure did smell good though and that was enough.