Showing posts with label acceptance. Show all posts

It began something like this: My friend said "I invited a bunch of the other kids from class too! We're having pizza and we might also have a water gun fight, we really want you to come!" This was the age when talking on a cord-phone with a springy wire with your friends was the "in" thing to do. This was back in the day when "hanging-up the phone" required more than just pressing the "end" button.

We were old enough to be left alone to our own devices in the neighborhood, but still young enough to require parental play-date permission.

My permission was granted and my mother dropped me off at my friend's house later that afternoon. This was a friend's house I had already been to hundreds of times before. In other words, my parents felt comfortable leaving me on her living room floor and expected that I would be waiting in the same spot later on that night.
In a matter of seconds a group of my buddies circled around on the floor with me. Looking back at it now, I think their excitement was in part because another one of their trouble-making pals was involved, but also because I was not in my wheelchair. I was in a different state during playdates, one that may have appeared to look more accessible to my able-bodied friends. By this point in our friendship my friends knew that I crawled around, or used my walker that my dad had left on the front porch of her house.

"Some of the boys are upstairs playing video games. Do you want us to tell them to come down? Or do you want us to bring you up?" Growing-up with an older brother meant that I rarely got a turn on the nintendo, it didn't take me long to choose to latter option. My friend dashed around the house probably looking for her mom to bring me up the stairs. Instead,
"...this is my laundry hamper. It has freshly clean underwear in it, I checked. Can you climb in here and then we'll carry you up in it?" I probably nodded, probably also threw in something about how I always climbed into laundry hampers at home. And in I went, then up I went.

Hours after Sonic had raced around collecting coins, our stomachs gave a collective grumble. Back in the hamper I went, and down the stairs we trooped. I crawled into the kitchen, under the dining room table, and climbed up onto the chair - stuffing my face with cheese and pepperoni, swapping gossip and summer plans.
At some point someone got bored, and our 12 year-old selves began to scheme and then the conversation probably went something like this:
"Let's have a water gun fight!" 
"Do we have enough squirt guns for everyone?"
"I'll run home and get mine, and steal my brothers."
"Let's call up some more people and see if they can come over."
"We can all meet-up at the park, by the baseball field." 
"We'll start here, in the driveway. I'll go turn the hose on and fill-up some balloons."

The same friend who had rigged up the hamper idea, now turned to look at me:
"I think I have my old red wagon in the garage. I'll go look for it. But we can put you in that and then you can come with us to the park! We can even put the water balloons in with you." 
She threw a beach towel down on the bottom, I climbed into the red wagon and there was still enough space behind me to stack half a dozen water balloons. Someone had handed me a SuperSoaker and off we went, behind her house, through the wooded path, and towards the park - I bumped along and remember telling her that she was smart to have thought of the beach towel.

I don't remember much from my summer as a 12 year-old, but I remember that day. It was great. Everything about it was wonderful from the creepy daddy long legs that I killed in the wagon, to all those water balloons I got to hurl, to the boy who said "no, I don't shoot at girls", and especially the look on my mother's face when she came to pick me up.
My nike shorts, t-shirt, socks, and puma sneakers were drenched. But I sat on the same spot on the living room carpet, smiling up at her with my arms stuck out - sad to go home, and I knew in my head: this is one of those days that your parents won't ever find out about. This is one of those days that you can leave to their own worst nightmare. Today's the day when you figured things out and they don't need to know how it was done, they just need to know that I'm safe and happy. 

1. Making sure a place is accessible. I have often wondered what it is like to just know that I will be able to access everywhere I want to go. These days we have online resources like 'Yelp' that will say whether or not a place is accessible but sometimes they are not always accurate and it's best to call ahead. A few times I haven't been sure if a potential place of employment is accessible; when this happens I have either gone to the place myself to 'scope it out' or simply asked AFTER I have gotten the date for an interview.

2. Reassure that I am 'old enough' over the phone. For the gazillionth time NO, I am not 7 years old and no my parents are not around to give permission for me to speak with you. Besides, what 7 year old do you know will ask for parental permission to call a bank in regards to her account statement?

3. Hold up the bus or train. It is usually a rush hour and there are about a thousand pair of eyes silently yelling at me to hurry up because I need to get to Point A 10 min ago. Meanwhile the driver of the bus or train is fumbling with the machine that lowers the ramp, or trying to strap my wheelchair in securely. Believe me, I love going fast as much as the next rush hour city dweller, so if I could bypass all of that logistical hassle I would!

4. Be nervous when I crack my joints. This seems ridiculous and silly but it is what it is. It wasn't until about 2 years ago when I discovered that I could crack my back without winding up in a body cast! In a weird way I was excited and probably acted like a baby just realizing how to hold their own head up. But in a broader and more general sense, I wish I didn't need to be nervous about potential injury whenever I do something as simple as cracking my knuckles or taking a clumsy fall. There is no such thing as 'clumsy' in my world, there's either "I fractured" or "I was lucky that time.."