Finding Direction: The Wind Vane Chronicles

Try saying that three times fast.

I can’t even say it three times slow.

I found that out last night when I was trying to tell Tom that was what I thought I needed most, perhaps for Christmas, if not sooner. He agreed after seeing the white racing stripes along each side of my new compact metallic blue and black "Go-Go" (yep – that’s the real name) Scooter and all the new artwork along every wall in our house, on all the doors and doorframes.

It turned out that what I first thought were neat white racing stripes along each side of my black framed scooter, on closer inspection turned out to be white paint! But you had to look really close to see that, so I thought I could probably get away with telling him and everyone else they were white racing stripes.

But the black marks lining every wall in the house, most noticable up and down each side of our long hall, and on all the doors and door frames from my black rubberized handle bars can’t really be explained away.

Neither can the big dinks out of the edges of some of the door frames where I’ve cut too close trying to manuever my scooter through some of the "stupidly designed" (in my humble opinion, newly formed as an "American with disabilities," thanks to my broken foot) doors going into rooms off rather narrow hallways.

I’ve always been a really good driver, too. I don’t know. I just can’t quite get the hang of this new form of mobility, yet. Although it’s brought Tom lots of merriment and laughter, which he’s badly needed lately.

But, you won’t believe what he’s been telling everybody at work. He’s been telling them that I’m like a human pin ball bouncing and careening off all the walls in the house and bumping into everything in my path along the way.

Especially in reverse.

Just last night as we were getting ready for my first outing with the scooter to go to Tom’s office Christmas dinner up in Picayune, I was telling him that now that I’d had the scooter for two whole days I had learned to "drive" much better and had finally figured it out.

While I was saying that, I was carefully and cautiously backing up from the vanity area into our bedroom. That’s when I backed into the chair back to my right.

He started laughing. But I didn’t pay any attention and just pulled forward a bit to correct my position and started carefully backing up a little to my left this time. Straight back into the corner of the foot of our bed.

He started getting tears in his eyes from laughter.

I started forward again and hit the dirty clothes hamper.

He was doubled over laughing even harder saying helplessly, "Oh Lord . . . "

I wasn’t sure if he was praying for me or for himself or for all the painters we’re going to have to pay to come repaint every paintable surface in our house after my foot heals.

Our house is definitely not designed to be fully handicapped accessible. That’s where the problem lies. I’m sure that’s what it is and not really my fault. Although I haven’t felt quite this incompetent in a very long time.

The party was a big success, though. Fortuitously, after their first location here in Slidell for the dinner was flooded out, they were able to schedule the event at the new, spacious, wonderful Senior Center in Picayune, built with mostly private funds. It was the perfect place for me to go on my first time out and about.

In fact, it was such a wonderful venue that I was able to leave my crutches in the car and didn’t need them all evening long to wheel about, get between the dinner tables, use the restroom or anything. I actually looked pretty sporty, if I say so myself, scootin’ around visiting with everyone.

Tom even jumped in to give demonstrations to a couple of people who inquired about how heavy it is (it’s 120 lbs., but breaks down into four pieces, fitting in a car trunk, even, for transporting with the heaviest piece being only 32 lbs.) and how stable it is to ride on. (It’s very stable – tipping over sideways has not been my problem.

Well, yet. But then, the "gauge" over my knob that serves as a speed control is only marked with the picture of a turtle on one side, an arc from left to right, and a rabbit on the right and I’ve not yet ventured out of the "turtle" zone. I don’t think the world is ready for me at rabbit speed yet. Or Tom, either.)

I’ve got to tell you, though, it’s been a real lifesaver for me the past three days. It’s amazing how much more mobility I have and all I can do now around the house that I couldn’t begin to think of doing on crutches. It is so small overall that I can go just about anywhere and can now take care of about 90% of the things I used to do before the crutches.

What I’m happiest about, though, is that because of my mom’s most gracious and generous gift – my early "Christmas" present as she said, I am now able to manage things at home on my own once again freeing Tom up from having the extra burdens he had when I was so helpless on the crutches. It’s been truly a Godsend.

It’s brought him enjoyment, too, which he needed.

In fact, when it was delivered Wednesday I called him to see if he could come home to get it out to put it together before evening. He didn’t really have time, but took the time, anyway, to come do so and to start charging it up so I would be mobile sooner and he could get back to his work.

Wednesday night when he finally got home, after 8 p.m. because he’d had to take off to come down to help me that afternoon, I was still in here on the computer, crutches close by.

I heard him come in from the garage to the den, but that was at the other end of the house, too far to call out to welcome him home. So I kept working on what was in front of me.

Then I heard a funny noise down the hall, but couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.

About that time I looked up and over to the open door to my right. As I did, Tom came flying by on the scooter in his suit with the biggest grin I’ve seen on his face in a long time. I wish I’d had a camera to capture his picture in that moment.

But, I don’t guess it really matters because I’ll never forget that joyful look I saw on his face. He could have been a young boy with his first new trike he’d ever had from Santa. I couldn’t get him off of it for 20 more minutes!

So, thanks Santa Mom! You’re the greatest. I like my Christmas present. And so does Tom. Thanks. We couldn’t have gotten anything better.