 (This blog tells my family's story. To see more, click "blog" at the top of this webpage.)
Beth’s roommate returned to the dorm from India. Rakhi shared sad stories about her volunteer work with children who were orphaned in the late December earthquake and tsunami. The tragedy killed more than 230,000 people in fourteen countries. Living in Cambridge, a truly international city, I felt more connected to a big world than I had in Tiffin, Ohio. About three weeks after the blizzard, Beth’s car still sat encased in snow and ice up to the windows. Snowplows clearing the street piled up extra snow on one side. An announcement from the city of Cambridge incited panic. Officials would begin to ticket cars that had not been moved since the winter storm. The next morning, crowds of people attempted to free their cars all over town. I tried my best, but half an hour later with little progress, I paid two teenagers to help who had chipped ice away from the wheels of another car. Spring couldn’t arrive too soon. A new semester packed Beth’s days with classes, volunteering, swimming, ongoing assignments, and a heap of books. Her first semester grades, all B's and A's, calmed her fears of not belonging at Harvard. She didn’t stress about breaking her all-A streak from high school. College life challenged her with the daily basics, so she prioritized her time and avoided social activities. With early morning swim practices and late night studying, she took advantage of breaks between classes for power naps. Beth made an attempt to take care of herself through her toughest winter. The continuous scrapes on her legs and feet from the pool walls healed slowly. She put waterproof bandages on the worst ones. When a cold surfaced, she treated it seriously to avoid chest congestion and pneumonia. She followed her lung doctor’s advice with decongestants, extra water, and more sleep. Swimming maximized the impaired lung capacity caused by her injury, but when she caught a cold, she still had a small, weak cough. She discontinued the last of her asthma medicine, Advair, with no return of symptoms. Since her leg spasms lessened with frequent swimming, she stopped taking a muscle relaxant. Except for a round of antibiotics now and then, she appreciated being medication free. . . . A rare thing for someone with a spinal cord injury. The college swim team season ended in February with the Harvard Women’s Swimming team as the undefeated Ivy League Champions. When team practices stopped for the rest of the school year, Beth focused on her four-year swim plan and continued to practice religiously. She grounded herself at Blodgett pool. Next: An Astonishing Invitation!
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 My blogs about my family’s surprising story will continue next week!
Today, it’s time to accept the Sunshine Blogger Award! The Sunshine Blogger Award is given BY bloggers TO bloggers who inspire positivity and creativity in the blogging community. Thank you Amber, for nominating me! Amber’s blog is The World Sees Normal. The Rules 1. Thank the blogger who nominated you and link back to their blog 2. Answer the 11 questions the blogger asked you 3. Nominate 11 bloggers to receive this award, and write 11 new questions 4. List the rules and display the Sunshine Blogger Award logo on your blog Amber’s Questions for Me: 1. If you could pick one person in your life to switch places with so they could feel how you feel for the day, who would it be and why!? That person would be the neurosurgeon who walked into an exam room, met me for the first time, and said, “Your pain needs to be much worse before I recommend surgery.” And I wasn’t asking for surgery! I wondered how he could assess someone’s pain level just by looking at them. 2. When you have people in your life that just can’t seem to understand you and your illness, what have you found to be the best way to explain it to them, so they understand? I rarely try to explain. It’s easier not to talk about chronic pain. 3. When you have some time just for you, do you enjoy the quiet of being alone or would you rather be with a close friend or family member? I love spending time with my best friend, John. We’ve been married for 40 years! 4. What is your all time favorite TV show? My new favorite TV show is Rise. 5. What is your guilty pleasure? Watching the Princess Bride movie, which reminds me of popcorn parties with classic movies when my children were growing up. 6. What is the most UNBELIEVABLE thing that someone in the medical profession has said to you? See my answer to #1! 7. What is the most annoying thing to you about living with a chronic illness? The fact that neuropathy, neuralgia, fibromyalgia, and advanced arthritis are forever. (My constant headache seems permanent, too.) Even so, I'm grateful for every day. 8. If you were able to have three wishes what would they be and why? Peace, health, and happiness—for all. 9. What is one activity in life that you loved doing, and have had to now give up due to your chronic illness? I refuse to give up anything, but some things like exercise and embroidery are more difficult. 10. What blog have you enjoyed writing the most and why? My blog about possibility and perspective, with or without a disability. It sums up what I learned over the decade after my daughter’s injury. 11. What is the most ridiculous comment that you have ever received on social media or as a comment on your blog? The only negative/ridiculous comment I received accused me of exploiting disability, yet the rest of that same comment showed he hadn’t read the post. I’m proud to be a lifelong disability advocate! My Nominations for the Sunshine Blogger Award: Kelly at Art & Words Amy at Amy Henry Books Maryanne at Pink Gazelle Kristen at New Dawn for Us Robin at Mentoring Matters Tsara at Autism Answers Andrea at Saving Joyfully Nancy at Exquisitely Me Enna at Cabin Twenty-Four Patricia at Free Oversea Joy at Sunkissed Scribbles My 11 Questions: What corner of the world are you from? How long have you been blogging? Why are you blogging? What do you like best about blogging? Where would you like to travel? What would you do if there was no chance of failing? Favorite season? Favorite food? Favorite music? Favorite book? Favorite quote? AND . . . NEXT WEEK ON MY BLOG: Surprises in Cambridge after NYC!  (This blog tells my family's story. To see more, click "blog" at the top of this webpage.)
Besides snow, Harvard presented other accessibility challenges. With massive historic buildings, wheelchair access often involved out-of-the-way back doors. Some required making prior arrangements for keys, key cards, or lifts. An unanticipated obstacle ruined a cold morning. While Beth’s roommate traveled, the only elevator in Thayer dorm broke down. She couldn’t find help to get down the steps in time for the shuttle to the pool. Frustrated, she called her coach for the first time about missing a team practice. When the elevator was fixed, it remained unreliable. Temporary fixes for the elevator varied in duration. Harvard’s maintenance director gave us his cell number and put a repair team on call. He explained that a new elevator required gutting the historical building—not an option. Unfortunately, replacement parts for the ancient elevator had to be specially made. Beth hated to ask for assistance. However, she loathed missing classes and practices more, so she placed the phone numbers for the maintenance director and floor proctor on speed dial. They usually responded quickly. Noah hadn’t gone to bed yet early one morning when he and the director carried Beth down two flights of dorm steps at 5:45 a.m. for swim practice. I helped with the stairs whenever I could. The day arrived when the elevator could no longer be fixed temporarily. The director offered to put Beth up in a nice hotel close to campus. She chose to stay put and arranged for help to get down and up the steps. The dorm elevator added ongoing stress. During that time, a relatively new elevator at the back of Annenberg came to a stop partway to the dining hall with only Beth inside. One of the servers heard her and stayed close by, talking to her for about 30 minutes until the elevator moved again. Over the weeklong semester break at the end of January, Beth and I boarded a crowded bus to visit New York City. A four-hour drive one way for a two-day visit. The Broadway musical Rent highlighted our trip. At the accessible entryway to the theatre, we waited to be seated near the actors' entrance. Recognizing one, Beth was star-struck when he greeted her with a smile and a hello. Drew Lachay, from the boy band 98 Degrees, played the role of Mark. The opening song introduced us to the beautiful concept of measuring our lives in love, through all 525,600 minutes in a year. We planned to taxi back to our hotel after the show. Beth wore unlined boots with no socks and a dress that bared her knees. Theater patrons quickly filled the taxis in the frigid night. Taxi drivers also tended to avoid people in wheelchairs, and Uber didn't exist yet. We ended up walking a mile to the hotel, stopping every few blocks at an open business to warm up. It was one of the rare times she let me push her wheelchair to protect her hands from the bitter cold.  (This blog tells my family's story. To see more, click "blog" at the top of this webpage.)
The friendly lady who picked me up in the blizzard drove slowly up Mass Ave in Cambridge for over a mile. With barely one driving lane and no option to pull over, she stopped in the street and dropped me off two blocks from the Quad, saving the day for me. Surrounded by rolling hills of snow, I trudged down the middle of a closed side street the rest of the way, numb and battered by gale-force winds. Only one other pedestrian braved the blizzard on a street usually teeming with students and residents. Each of us could hardly even make eye contact, bundled to the max and looking down to cut the wind attacking our faces. I had never been so happy to reach and enter a building. In the warm room where I listened to the student and typed his words for his final exam, snow and ice melted in a puddle under my feet. After the final, I dreaded the walk ahead. On my way to Beth’s Harvard dorm, I stopped at the only business open, the Starbucks at the corner of Mass Ave and Shepard Street. A kind soul had shoveled a narrow trench from the door to the corner of the street. The snow on each side reached my chest. I sipped a hot chai tea and carried a latte for Beth for several blocks to her dorm. I climbed high snow hills on the ramp to the entrance. I called ahead and she met me at the door to let me in. Her latte was freezing by the time I arrived. I was glad to hear that her proctor had already offered to bring her meals from the dining hall. Drifting snow continued to block the dorm ramp after the blizzard winds died down, despite frequent clearing by college maintenance staff. No kind of wheelchair could get through, so I stopped to see Beth each day before or after my Coop shift. The sidewalks stayed impassable for a few days afterward, so I joined the many pedestrians walking in the streets close to cars. Compared to walking in the blizzard, trekking to the Quad and Beth’s dorm in bitter temperatures on icy roads and sidewalks felt like an improvement. When snow still blew, I pushed Beth’s wheelchair to and from the shuttle stop to resume swim practices. The shuttle drivers helped her up and down the icy hill at the entrance to the pool in the aftermath of the blizzard. Next: An Unanticipated Obstacle!  (This blog tells my family's story. To see more, click "blog" at the top of this webpage.)
January of 2005 started calm and cold. I bundled up to walk to my personal care assistant job six mornings a week along with second shift at the Harvard Coop bookstore five days a week, seven hours a day. During my evening shifts, I rode an ancient elevator to the cavernous basement storeroom when customers requested specific sizes not on display. Mice darted in and out of the shadows. It bothered me that the storeroom was always a mess — and it wasn’t my job to fix it. I obviously inherited my dad's precise organization. I sometimes had dreams of searching for something important among never-ending boxes in chaos. The day of Beth’s last final exam, a classmate pushed her through rising snow to and from the test. The snowfall shifted to a winter storm, burying sidewalks and cars. The worst of the blizzard hit on a Sunday. A snow emergency. Unearthing the car was not possible. Besides, there was nowhere to go. Ellsworth Avenue had endless drifts much too high to drive through. Everything closed, including the Coop, but I was scheduled to scribe for a final exam. The blizzard set records for New England, and not in a good way. When I couldn’t reach anyone by phone, I decided to walk to the Quad for the test, scheduled at the same dorm where the student with cerebral palsy lived. I also wanted to check on my snowbound daughter. I layered my clothes and added an extra pair of socks. The first person in my apartment building to try to leave, I worked for several minutes to free the frozen front door. Next, I fought with the icy snowdrift forming a barricade on the porch side. I could barely squeeze out. The porch floor, steps, and sidewalks disappeared in an ocean of white. Frigid blasts blew my breath away. I waded through thigh-high drifts on Ellsworth to Broadway. An attempt had been made to clear the bigger street, making my ankle boots briefly useful. I walked in the road around abandoned cars, even though I couldn’t begin to hear a vehicle approaching with the wind. The few cars on the ice-covered street drove slowly. I advanced half a block and turned back, ready to give up, when a lady in a van offered me a ride. She headed north on Mass Ave and told me she had never picked up anyone before. It was a first for me, too. Next: Blizzard, Part 2! |
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