Truly a Minority

I am eager to do a new Accessible Warsaw post, I have many pictures on my phone waiting to be dumped onto the blog, but my phone got knocked into the (thankfully clean) toilet yesterday. I broke my rule of no phone in the bathroom. It was sitting on the sink, safely away from the toilet, but my awkward dance of getting off my power chair and onto the toilet included the "knock the phone into the toilet move" that I hope to never perform again.  The phone was insured and a new one is arriving today.

So instead of writing about the accessibility of my town, I am going to write about being a part of the largest minority in our country, the group of people with disabilities.  I'm new to the group and frankly, not thrilled to be a part of it. In all of the television shows I watch, I wonder how the storyline would be different if one of the main characters was confined to a power chair. Olivia Pope in Scandal? Gloria or Claire in Modern Family?  Khaleesi in Game of Thrones?  Even when I was able-bodied I didn't have a ton in common with these characters, but I did have the common experience of being able to walk.

Yesterday I was watching a show on Netflix called Happy Valley. I paused the first episode 20 minutes in and watched a small 30 second segment over and over.  A husband was talking to his wife as she sat on the edge of the bed in her pajamas. As he was chatting, he was taking off her socks. Without a pause in the conversation, he stood up, then bent over as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he helped her put her legs into bed.  I, as the viewer, was never told why the wife needs assistance removing her socks and getting into bed. It is simply a part of their life, not explained at all in this first episode. Words fail me when I try to describe the feeling I had watching that.  It was surreal. Seeing characters on a television show acting out my reality. It was powerful and made me feel "normal".

I am an adult who lived a good 38 years with a fully able body. And I still was touched by seeing this on a television show. Imagine children with disabilities. How empowering would it be for them to see their reality portrayed as a normal part of life on television, in movies, and advertisements.  Our culture has a long way to go to include people with disabilities.

Accessible Warsaw: Recovery Lounge

Love me, love my book club. My book club has been with me throughout my whole journey into disability. We meet every month. They saw me when I could walk, when I began to limp, when I used a cane, and now when I am in my scooter. What's awesome is they treat me the same as they always have.  Sure, they help me physically in ways that I never needed previously, but I still get teased, I get listened to when I pull an intelligent thought together, if we're doing a gift exchange and I get the good gift, no one hesitates to steal it away and make me open the next, questionable gift.  We are six women who love to read and discuss books, but our friendship is much more than that, and I am so grateful.

Recovery Lounge is a new bar in Warsaw. It is where Bennigan's used to be, in the Wyndham Garden Hotel. We usually meet in each other's homes, but last week my book club decided to meet at Recovery Lounge so we could check it out.  (Get it? Like checking out a book? Okay. I'm sorry.)

The disabled parking spot was right by the front door. There was plenty of room for me to get on my scooter and get right to the door.

Nice and roomy.

There was no ramp or sidewalk, I like how the street led right to the door. The door had handles, but no button I could push to open the door on my own. My book club friends of course held the door open for me. They even held both, which makes me feel like royalty!

Thanks ladies!

Recovery Lounge is very pretty. The atmosphere is relaxing and inviting. I was glad to see that it is all one level, very easy for me to get around. There are three seating options. Tall chairs at the bar, clusters of barrel chairs, and couches. We chose a couch and I pulled up a barrel chair.

Classy place!

We ordered drinks, which were delicious, and also ordered a few things off of the menu from the adjoining Italian restaurant. We had a fun night, a great discussion, and enjoyed the sophisticated atmosphere. The only thing lacking accessibility wise, was a handicap button entrance, or an automatic door.

Book Club!

Of course, knowing these ladies, we can make anyplace accessible. They'll push, lift, shove, and pull me wherever I need to go!

Recovery lounge =**** (four out of five stars on my accessibility scale)

+ handicap parking spot right up front

+ no ramp or sidewalk needed, door is the same level as the street

+ entire bar is all one level

+ variety of seating options, not only tall bar chairs

- no button/automatic door

Thought pod: The Party

It's not expected. Stand up, my mind says. Mingle. Dance. My heart, my body, wants to do party things.

In the chair I remain. Observing. Witnessing. Judging. Yearning.

A few gather, conversation. Catching up, laughter.

Eventually I'm alone again. Nervous hands check my phone. Alone, in the kitchen corner. I search for a pair of familiar eyes, none to be found.

This isn't me! I want to scream. This isn't me! This. Isn't. Me.

But it is.

I'm ready to go.

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Two weeks ago I went to my cousin's birthday party in Texas.  It was a whirlwind trip, travel was delayed on every leg, we were in Texas for a total of 28 hours. I would do it again in a heartbeat. It was worth it, it was way too short, and there's not much I wouldn't do for my cousin Jennifer.

I realized that it was the first time in a long time that I was with such a large group of people that I don't know.  Of course there were people I do know very well there, family members, my husband, my brother, my aunt who also is in a wheelchair due to multiple sclerosis.  A few of my cousin's close friends who I have met on previous trips.  But my life has changed so much since I had last been in Texas.

I wrote the above poem, or what I'm calling a thought pod, on the flight home. I had to get those feelings out of my brain. It gives those feelings validation.  It's difficult being stuck in a chair when I want to dance. I want to say something flowery here. Something cerebral or witty to prove "I got this". But sometimes things just suck.

Most days they don't.