wzername

Born To Be Wild (video)

Olivette Turbeville — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 02:52:00 GMT

Born... Tubby... Mild!

This is abso-damn-lutely the best comedic profile of us DisaBoomers!

HALF WAY THRU THIS VIDEO IT BECOMES HILARIOUS.

BTW - leave a comment... don't leave me hangin'!

Stellar Trike!

Olivette Turbeville — Fri, 30 May 2008 02:24:00 GMT

This is a Trike that my sons built for me!

We had a BLAST on a 1500 mile trip within a couple weeks after building it – all rural, mountain pass, two lane roads thru 4 western states. (Puling a trailer with our gear and my wheelchair inside) Honestly, it was a damn fine ride.

Years ago I rode professionally (when I was a size 12 and walked of course) - so it was quite a slam to be 'reduced' to a Honda Silverwing scooter by golly. But I sure wasn't bitchin'!!! I Never Ever thought I'd find myself riding a motorcycle again - so this was absolutely heaven!!!

We modified the stock seat by inserting a chunk of honeycombed (Stimulite) cushion under the coccyx area, and overlaid that with thick memory foam, and refitted the vinyl. Looked great. But I hobbled off of it every night regardless - being entirely thankful for hefty narcotics to keep me going. Well worth every minute!

The maiden voyage at 3am when it was built. (My sons can be heard in the background saying, "That's the purdiest wheelchair I've ever seen. - There she goes... we've lost her!") Here’s the assembly video.

When its OK to Pee Your Pants!

Olivette Turbeville — Wed, 28 May 2008 04:46:00 GMT

VIDEO => When its OK to Pee Your Pants!
(right click to choose a large or full screen view)

Invisible or Conspicuous?

Olivette Turbeville — Fri, 23 May 2008 18:56:00 GMT

"For those of us who must use a wheelchair most or all of the time: Do you feel as if able-bodied people, who are the vast majority, look right through you, or do you feel like everybody's staring at you?"

I haveta submit a resounding Yes to both queries. But, I've decided that I became invisible only after I inadvertently learned to use my super-powers! Once upon a time I was a strikingly hot and skinny, albeit an ordinary biped. (Wow, does shit change when you least expect it.) I had no super power of invisibility then. None. All too often I remember wishing I could hide from a world full of gawkers. So I was thankful that I acquired super powers when I began to roll.

Which in turn made me wonder: What makes any person invisible, or conspicuous?

I remember, back in the day, when briefly I was a pregnant biped, EVERYONE seemed to be conspicuously pregnant too. (Of course that's not the reality of things, just a perceptive glitch. But I digress...) So when I felt conspicuous as a newly "wheeled" person, it naturally led me to begin making observations of "conspicuousness" in everyone else - comparatively speaking.

My observations led me to unscientifically conclude that:

1.) Kids appear to feel awkwardly conspicuous. Children, in a world of grownups, find their environment full of elbows and assholes. Literally, and figuratively. Me too!!! I think wheeled folk can commiserate a lot with that perception?? Kids tended to gaze at me rolling with a kind of connection and wonder.... after all I'm at their height, and I'm looking back directly into their eyes! And, many are also on wheels. Perhaps my wheels seem more spectacular, Perhaps their wonder was tied to my being able to push myself without a Mom behind me. Nowadays they're certainly impressed with my Power-Wheels. What kid isn't??? (I sure am!) We bond in a wink, they smile and blink in recognition, I roll on...

2.) Teens feel inordinately conspicuous. "OMG, am I wearing the right outfit?" Maybe they've got a throbbing shiny nose zit? Or a throbbing Wang that won't behave in public. Or worse... maybe everyone ELSE realizes they're suffering a butt-zit? Perhaps a miserably high-'n-tight thong? <laughing> I bet some of us just thought that described a Marine haircut?? ((Sorry I amuse myself thinking aloud....)) Nevertheless, teen years universally seem to suk - and reasons are endless...

Yet teens feel utterly invisible. "OMG, am I wearing the right outfit?" (Yep, that one seems constant.) They're not adults and not children, nothing is as it 'should be'. They can't get a date, and when they do, it can quickly become a horror show. Teens are the epitome of conspicuous-invisibility.

3.) Old people feel awfully conspicuous. S l o w and creaky. Wrinkley grey bits where there used to be smooth pink ones. Add a handful of fumbling fingers that won't cooperate, simply to find change in the bottom of a pocket/purse to pay an impatient cashier in front of a long line of younger shoppers. Only the calmer demeanor of age camouflages their fear of an encroaching "disturbance in the force". Maybe they're not addled... only appearing so momentarily, as they're tossed into flashbacks remembering when such was not the case "back in the day...". And thus they also feel invisible - because few people see them as they remember themselves.

3.and a half ) Speaking of flashbacks... Millions who are using drugs and alcohol (legal or not, at nearly any age) feel miserably conspicuous. They just don't appear to care as others by the very nature of added chemistry? Who then wouldn't love drugs/alcohol....? And maybe, because they 'feel' invisible or unworthy (plug-in any preferred tirade here) users act out - being loud and pretentious, or whiny and miserable - to make themselves conspicuous. Who then wouldn't hate drugs/alcohol....? Now there's the nasty conundrum... Impaired people seem incapable of noticing the obvious, thus they're oblivious.

(Perhaps an embodiment of the woman on the theater ramp? Definitely the embodiment of everyone's inebriated 'uncle' (or fill in the blank))

Therefore, if I (as a rolling person) feel conspicuous... perhaps I'm quite literally one of the masses, and my perception is entirely Normal. Those bipeds that I surprise when rolled up on - are probably embedded in their own dinky spatial perception of what matters to them. Not me in particular.

And those that peer at me with concern, discontent, and curiosity.... are simply ordinary humans that perceive a broader spectrum of their surroundings. Not unlike critters at the zoo that peer back at "us", while we're peering in at "them". Every mammal has some interest in every other animal. ((Find a cat that won't stare at a bug on the wall for hours.)) After all, we are all pretty interesting and curious creatures by nature - whether we think we are invisible or conspicuous.

I'm just exceedingly grateful that as humans we've sort of evolved past butt-sniffing.

My two cents... (and of course, your mileage may vary).

Insomnia: My nocturnal life.

Olivette Turbeville — Wed, 21 May 2008 06:56:00 GMT

It's only 3:30am here in Wyoming... but I'm not much of a sleeper. I used to think that I should fuss more about not sleeping. Granted, many minutes of many nights have ticked by with the sound of clocks annoying my last good nerve. My brain seemingly adept at its nagging inability to 'sushhhh' the synaptic chaos of lying in bed utterly s l e e p l e s s. But I don't begrudge my wakefulness. More accurately I savor my nocturnal life. Exceedingly.

In my teen years, sleepless nights provoked a delinquency that the day time did not. Instead of thrashing against lying prone in wakefulness... I'd creep out my window to the roof instead - straddling a nearby dormer in the chill of night, eyes adjusting to absorb glimmering moonlit fields, fence and forest. Feeling defiant that sleep could not rob that moment - knowing my parents would go ballistic if they saw.

My loves, my homes, my babies... and most of my finest memories and adventures are enveloped by outstanding nights. X-rated nights, purple haze nights, bizarre foreign nights, and exceptional nights that forever changed and elevated my cognizant soul.

Years later, post-wreck, the first clear memories I had in the weeks following... I was sitting in an odd reclining hospital wheelchair, gazing at the moon and stars with tears streaming. I later learned the nurses had caved-in to relentless pleading and positioned me under the stars, swathed in layer-upon-layer of 'baked-warm' white cotton blankets. Thus proving once and for all, I was a devout insomniac - even busted up with a head injury.

In midlife I'd even fight the intrusion of sleep to saturate myself in the nocturnal realm of my home. No voices or phones calling my attention. No calendar commanding me in the pre-dawn... simply a stealthy quiet, shadowy world - peaceful beyond belief. With nightlights stationed in every room the glow and reflections of plants make my house feel toasty, in a 'moonlit jungle' - where I putter around like a wild thing savoring my exotic dominion. I made this nest.... I own this, and everything around me is a refection of my life. I reign supreme here. How could anything possibly be more soothing, elevating and comfortable?

Although I'm fairly certain my wheelchair won't perch on a roof dormer... its given me a unique means of diversion in prowling. Since my episodic nocturnal adventures have increased in recent years, I've been inclined to 'take my show on the road'. Sometimes while still in my jammies and robe, I'll blast out my front door full throttle in a powerchair. Racing off for a late jaunt in the empty streets of Laramie - and I take full advantage, racing down the center stripe, ignoring crack heaved sidewalks completely. Under a bright moon and clear mountain starlight... I cherish high speed solo excursions. Cops occasionally notice me darting through dim cross streets several blocks away. They'll turn off lights, parking far ahead of my path and startle me as I streak past, oblivious to their presence. They've earned retribution from me tapping their car when I find 'em indulging in a moments "shut-eye". The game goes on....

I sleep even less now than I did when I was young. And I still have difficulty grasping that its supposed to be a problem. Maybe I am older and hormonally calmer - with 'age' giving over a greater physiological peace with the world? Perhaps I've simply grown clever, agreeing to mingle with each moment in spite of the hour in which it occurs? I dunno. But its purdy much a given, that I've always been - and will always be - a luna-tic.

Ni-night.....

You Might Be A Handicapped Redneck ?

Olivette Turbeville — Thu, 01 May 2008 19:54:00 GMT

NEW ADDITIONS + Reorganized!
(accommodating the OCD’s among us!)

You Might Be A Handicapped Redneck If...

Modifiers, Bikers, Truckers and NASCAR:

..... If your power chair has a [chrome] roll bar and KC light covers.

..... If you've bolted a chrome tailpipe tip to the bottom of your powerchair.

..... If your wheelchair has Yosemite Sam mudflaps (or chrome bolt on Go-Go Dancers).

..... If you're pissed because spinner rims aren't available for wheelchairs.

..... You browse truck catalogs looking for ways to amp up your wheelchair motors.

..... You want to add a side-car or a 'sweet little trailer'.

..... If you've made your own spinner rims with lazy-suzan turntables and aluminum foil.

..... If you shop at Tractor Supply for adaptive equipment accessories.

..... You have a wheelchair up on blocks in your front yard.

..... You have ever repainted your adaptive equipment with flames / scull 'n crossbones / flags / etc.

..... You have spent more than an hour trying to figure out where to hang fuzzy dice from your chair.

..... Your nickname is emblazoned on your wheelchair somewhere.

..... You regularly call Harley Davidson and ask when they're gonna start making power wheelchairs.

..... You ever thought about jacking your chair up 2 or 3 feet, "Monster Truck' style.

..... You have knobby mud tires - that never get dirty.

..... You installed a horn so your chair will squeal like a hog - or scare people like a semi tractor/trailer.

..... You installed a whip antenna so you can fly “The Stars And Bars”! (US flag)

..... There is a 'Harley' decal or emblem permanently attached to your chair.

..... If your wheelchair has "bulls balls" hanging under the back.

..... If you have a neon light kit under your powerchair.

..... You installed a CB under your chair.

Inventors:

..... The accessories hangin' on your chair weigh more than 1/3 what your w/c does.

..... Duct tape plays a major role in your repair and maintenance plan.

..... If you've installed a winch on your chair to escape from mudholes in your driveway.

..... If you've rigged up a lawnmower to tow a behind your powerchair.

..... You rigged up a beer cooler powered off your chair batteries.

..... If you've decorated your powerchair with Christmas lights hooked to your battery.

..... You replaced your seat with a Barco or Lazy Boy Lounger.

..... You found the above Lounger abandoned on the side of the road.

..... Your tires are basically thick layers of duct tape around the rims.

..... You use more than one color of duct tape on your chair.

..... You’ve duct taped halogen flashlights to your chair as headlights.

..... If you’ve worn a necklace or arm jewelry made from cath tubes.

..... If you frequently use plastic soda bottles as a urinal.

Adventurous:

..... If you've handed your beer to a friend saying, "Watch THIS" just before you woke up in the ER.

..... If you've been towed home sitting in your chair 'cuz of dead batteries. (chained behind a truck/car)

..... If you've been towed home sitting in your chair 'cuz of wet wiring from car wash.

..... If you have snow chains for at least two of your wc-tires.

..... If your power chair has more miles on it than your van.

..... If you can't tell what color your wheelchair is because of the mud.

..... If anyone has written "wash me" in the dust on your wheelchair.

..... You've considered smuggling moonshine in the tubing or battery compartment of a chair.

..... If you've emptied a leg bag in a hedge row, or on a fire hydrant (etc).

..... If you (while in your wheelchair) ever created any “road kill”.

Sports Enthusiasts:

..... You have someone developing ski's for your front casters.

..... You've designed a quick-release colt45 holster for the armrest.

..... If you've been towed down the road in your chair just for shitz 'n grinz. ("Road Skiing")

..... If you've used old Bass boat parts to fix or decorate your powerchair.

..... You entered the tricycle races at field day citing 'Title IX'.

..... If you named your chair after a pro wrestler.

..... You wear a 4 pound shiny Rodeo Champ belt buckle that your stomach folds over. .

.... Your joystick [which does not live up to its name] is a billiard ball, stick shift knob, beer tap, or similar gizmo.

..... You keep a score pad for “pedestrian bowling”.

..... If spasms are a part of your regular workout.

Hunters:

..... If you’ve added camo duct tape to your walker to go hunting.

..... If you covered yourself and your walker with a garbage bag to make a 'duck blind'.

..... If you've taped cardboard to 3 sides of your walker to create an in-the-woods Porta Potty.

..... If your wheelchair has a gun rack and a bottle opener.

..... If you're looking for a way to hook a bug-zapper to your powerchair.

..... Any part of your wheelchair is painted in camouflage.

..... There’s some anatomical portion of a deer, raccoon or other wild critter decorating any part of your chair.

..... You installed a gun rack on the back of your wheelchair.

..... Sprayed your lift-van with camo patterns.

Service Dog Gang:

..... If your service dog is a Pit Bull.

..... Your service dog and wallet are both on a chain.

..... If your front porch collapses and kills more than three retired service dogs.

Too Hot to Trot:

..... If you pick up and haul hitchhikers on your lap.

..... If your sexiest evening gown came from a hospital.

..... If you think preparing for a bubble bath starts with eating beans for dinner.

..... If you consider intermittent cathing as fore play.

..... If you've used a bedpan as a spittoon.

..... If you've fantasized about mud-wrestling your nurse.

For the party crowd:

..... If you've line danced in your chair at a cowboy bar.

..... If you ride in the Daytona Bike Week parade with a powerchair.

..... If after binge drinkin’ you regain consciousness with your head in a lap - but its your own lap.

..... If you've ever been too drunk to empty a leg bag.

..... If you've used vodka to sterilize equipment when you're out of denatured alcohol.

..... If you've mashed your own toes with your wheelchair, crutches, cane, or walker.

..... If if you've ever tried, while inebriated, to convince a 1200 lb. quarter horse to be your service dog.

..... If you describe your drug dealer an 'unlicensed pharmacist'.

..... If you've figured a way to sync a Karaoke machine with a ventilator.

Fashion Divas:

..... If your lap and chest restraints covers more of your belly than your T-shirt.

.... You wear cowboy, biker, or work boots, even though they're hard to put on and you can't walk anyway.

..... You adjusted your headrest so it'll stop knocking off your hat.

..... If the chain on your wallet has gotten snagged in your wheelchair spokes.

..... The fringe on your jacket and/or your bolo tie has gotten caught in your wheels - but you wear 'em anyway.

..... If Velcro is a dominant wardrobe ‘accessory’.

..... You wonder if, “Depends make your butt look big?"

..... If you've unknowingly dragged garments snagged on your chair thru the store.

..... If executing the "pull my finger" trick briefly preempts changing Depends.

Gourmets:

..... If you have 3-4 empty happy meal sacks in your backpack.

..... If you add beer to your Ensure protein supplement after 5pm.

..... If your other adaptive chair is made of stacked beer cans.

??? :

..... If Kimberly Clark, the maker of Depends, is a major investment consideration.

====== ====== ====== ======

..... You read this list and found yourself thinking, "Now that's a good idea!"

_______ ________ ________ _______ ________

Newest:

..... If your prosthetics rust.

..... If you bought a carbon fiber Kleenex box, 'cuz it looks ‘sporty’ by your hospital bed.

..... If you still have a cigarette tucked behind your ear while on a ventilator.

..... If your favorite recipe begins with: “pierce the film covering.”

..... If you’ve placed a squeak-toy (noise maker) behind your plastic knee, to celebrate New Years.

_________________________________________________________________
__________ Keep 'em coming folks!________________ - Stay tuned -_______
_________________________________________________________________

All my best to you and yours!
Olivette
xx0x0xx

...like sand in a tube sock!

Olivette Turbeville — Fri, 11 Apr 2008 23:35:00 GMT

I had a peculiar morning not long ago... I leapt out of bed. (??? WTF?)

Yep. I hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, and stayed there quite awhile until I could figure out the body mechanics necessary to get myself untangled and upright. I laughed until I nearly pee'd myself wondering what in the heck brought THAT on?

I think I must've been dreaming. I sure didn't look before I leaped! I didn't even know I COULD leap???

In hindsight... I'm not sure it was exactly a leap.
I'd bet it was far more akin to slithering straight to the floor like sand in a tube sock.

Freedom Service Dog's - con't

Olivette Turbeville — Sat, 05 Apr 2008 01:28:00 GMT

Freedom Service Dog's - con't

The staff at Freedom Service Dog's is SO into their clients, its incredible. Never has there been customer support like this! I was enamored with their entire staff when I arrived at the new facility for my face-to-face interview. And the feeling seemed mutual. It was uplifting and heartwarming like "going to gramma's house!" No really,.. I swear. Oh, and there's another entire story about an idiotic blunder that caused my late arrival! ((To be continued on next blog, k? ))

Following the extended interview I asked if I could be allowed to visit occasionally in the months to come... and perhaps volunteer as a guinea-powerchair (???). Well, you know what I mean - I would be the token motorized person to help acclimate their canines-in-training to a high powered-human on wheels. I promised I'd do whatever the trainers asked of me - hoping perhaps the dogs and I would be rewarded with a long galloping run around the pond in the big park across the street! ((wiggles excitedly)) One dog at a time of course... Somehow I left feeling as fortunate as the rescued dogs I'd just met.

I had secured a small donation from our gracious local Walmart before we drove down for the FSD interview - which helped me purchase enough material to make a big stack of thick fleece snooze blankets for their incoming canines. I reckoned, "What could be more comforting for a rescued shelter pup than good chewie and a warm fuzzy fleece blanket in a scary new place?" It made me sleep a little easier knowing I'd added to their comfort and wellbeing. (I saw the trainers were already dispensing many hugs!)

In addition I threw in several bags of Meow Mix for training treats, a bulk sack of peanut butter chew bones, and a dozen or so cans of Vienna sausages, plus a goofy wall plaque to help decorate their blank white walls for incoming visitors. [The plaque reads, "I got rid of the children, `cuz the dog is allergic" surrounding a big dog wearing sun glasses. [I wonder if the girls hung it in the waiting room yet?] As you might imagine, there can never be enough supplies on hand for hard working dogs, right?

I'm presently working to secure heftier community service grants from our local Walmart and Kmart (advised by our store mgrs) to defray costs at the training facility and help maintain and place my Wyoming SD. I think it's magnificent that FSD has included an out of state resident into their Colorado program (because Wyoming has no comparable SD training services in-state). So I'm prepared to do everything in my power to support, encourage and match the generosity they've extended to their Wyoming neighbor! A daunting task... but, only because my finest efforts could never realistically meet or exceed the exemplary results demonstrated by the team at FSD.

I've got another fundraising project brewing on the back burner. I've submitted a fundraising request to Qdoba Mexican Restaurants. They're an excellent community minded rocky mountain restaurant chain that participates in non-profit org's fundraising projects. If that proposal goes thru, I'll be able to offer BOGO coupons to Laramie residents at an insanely low price of $10 = $60 value - which is an excellent deal for our town folk and university students, as well as the local Qdoba. I have great hopes for this venture. I'll be rollin' door to door, business offices', hawking on campus and in dorms...well, you get the idea. As long as people don't run me off with a shotgun, I'll BE there raising funds!~ I feel fortunate that summer is close at hand, I'll appreciate and need the good weather!

I've put together a few donation jars to place around town. I've bought colorful flavored rawhide chewies and dental bones in bulk online to place in the donation jars as incentive, attraction, and reward for those kind enough to donate. I'm not accustomed to 'begging' for donations. So this is kinda spooky. I don't expect much outcome from the donation jars. Only time will tell.

I guess the worse that can happen is
that I may end up with a zillion pounds of chewies
for the pup that I haven't even met yet?

A Service Dog coming to Wyoming

Olivette Turbeville — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 18:09:00 GMT

I would guess there are very few service dogs in Wyoming. We don't have a 501c (non-profit) service dog training/placement facility in this state. However, due to my close proximity; Freedom Service Dogs of Colorado has graciously extended their services beyond Colorado's borders; making an exception that would allow me to participate in their program. I've completed their face-to-face interview and eval for task needs and was approved for the program only a couple weeks ago. I'm so excited I could just squeal~ ((squealing))

All of FSD's are rescued young shelter dogs. And of course the rescued dogs have to go thru the medical, physical, social and emotional testing before they are even considered for the training program. Although I can hardly wrap my brain around this, the truth of the matter is that within a year I'll become one half of a working service dog team, with a new partner dedicated to helping me manage my active life! Woooo Hoooo!!! I'll have an adorable life-partner that I won't have to marry!! Who knew?

But their human counterparts have to go thru training too! (Panic) OHMYGOSH... "What if I can't 'pass' obedience school?" ((just WIGGLING with excitement)) See there? I can barely hold still or contain myself already! And if anything, I'm certailnly not very obedient. Just ask my ex's....

Dang, when I should be concentrating on just about anything else and working... I find myself scouring the internet gazing at SD 'stuff' and dog gizmo's. I ordered 150 linear ft of 6ft chain link fence materials last weekend. Holy Mackerel, that was a GOB of money!!! *sigh* And a friend donated an enormous new crate that is sitting here in my office. I can hardly keep my eyes off of it. I'll buy a crib mattress and make a fluffy thick washable fleece cover. How funny that I have a dog crate and chain link fence MONTHS before the dog itself. Can't be too prepared.

Dog dog dog dog..... this is kinda like being pregnant. DOG is all I can think about!!!

Silly me. I'm even searching for 'chewies' online like its porn.

(... stay tuned.)

Parked in a corner... and liking it!

Olivette Turbeville — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 15:13:00 GMT

When I was little I never had to sit in a corner for 'time out'. I am so old there was no 'time out' back then - I just got my butt beat, and sent off to bed. Well, perhaps I'm making up for those missed time out's.

Since I ride in style in a 6-wheeler, I've gradually become less competent at propelling myself in my manual wheelchair. Especially in airports on a short turnaround. So, I request (and try to appreciate) the assisted "push" from airport personnel - EXCEPT when there looms a dang elevator!

The trio of me, my chair, and the assist-personnel behind me, always manage to enter said elevators alone. Because inevitably waiting bipeds 'part' like the waters of the Red Sea to let wheelchairs in first - or hostile assist-personnel use me and the wheelchair like a battering ram, shoving unsuspecting bipeds aside. (That's another story).

Whichever the case, the flow of waiting bipeds cram in the elevator behind me like it's a sale day at Bloomingdale's! Of course this leaves no time or room to flip a U-ie and face the door. So I'm perpetually stuffed in the corner staring at the 90 degree angle.

This used to really bother me... although eventually I came to realize it wasn't truly a terrible problem. (I've had terrible problems, and THIS wasn't even on that list!) It was just a nagging recurrance... kinda like curbs without cutouts. [Ya just gotta 'deal'..butch it up... and learn to leap.]

Until recently. During an all too familiar "nose-in-the-corner" incident... I disrupted the gaping silence of the elevator with a squeaky voice: "I dunno what I did to piss you off Mister, but I PROMISE I won't do it again!" And wave of welcoming giggles erupted.

Now, I think I like corners. So, I'm plotting my dialogue; anxiously awaiting the next one...

((stay tuned))

Courageous?!! Brave? Bunk...

Olivette Turbeville — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 08:19:00 GMT

A favorite media misnomer often designates people as “courageous” or “brave” for overcoming a disability (particularly due to new injuries). Courage or bravery then becomes a tenuous and misleading expectation that is difficult to live with, and live up to. It also implies that a significant other portion of the disabled population is neither brave nor courageous. Either way it is not a fair assessment. Every human being with a disability has to wake up daily to their exclusive reality - with or without exceptional courage or bravery. It's just a fact.

“As soon as I sat in a wheelchair I was no longer viewed as an ordinary person. I suddenly found the world to be full of “assholes and elbows” if you’ll forgive my candor. It was certainly not a pretty place of human-midsection sights and smells – but more so it was a realm that limited ordinary physical communications that I’d been accustomed too all my life. I found that more than immobility, there was a slippery slope of common communication exchanges that were suddenly lost.” - (Olivette Turbeville, 1997 aka: ‘wzername’)

From childhood through adulthood, everyone has internalized or ignored messages relayed to them about their physical bodies. Sometimes these messages empower and make us feel whole or strong. Other times, these messages wound the sense of self, so much so that individuals may question their worthiness. This is especially true after catastrophic injury. Persons living with disability are especially prone to skewed self actualization when they are stereotyped or refer to themselves as "victims" or "sufferers". Because people with disabilities are neither conditions nor diseases – we are not ‘bound by a wheelchair’, nor are we ‘afflicted’ or ‘stricken’. It is vital to vanquish the implication that an individual is identified by their disability and secondarily as a human being.

Not every person is able to express themselves as effectively as they did before their impairment (assuming the limiting factor was not a birth or childhood affliction). People often express difficulty integrating and cobbling together their own experiences, let alone communicating those experiences to others. And, sometimes there’s a certain inevitable restraint in communicating anything internalized, for fear that it may appear like a litany of complaints. It is natural and easier to increasingly censor and restrict communication in the company of able-bodied people – carefully circumnavigating unfavorable health matters. It is this process of filtering and defending, messages that make people feel; apart, invisible, absent, or “othered” – instead of communicating in ways that enable people to feel included, visible, present, and welcomed.

You Might Be A Handicapped Redneck If,,,,

Olivette Turbeville — Sun, 30 Mar 2008 20:58:00 GMT

You Might Be A Handicapped Redneck If,,,,

Any part of your wheelchair is painted in camouflage.
You have a wheelchair up on blocks in your front yard.
You rigged up a beer cooler powered off your chair batteries.
You wear cowboy, biker, or work boots, even though they're hard to put on and you can't walk anyway.
You adjusted your headrest so it'll stop knocking off your hat.
You installed a gun rack on the back of your wheelchair.
Your joystick [which does not live up to its name] is a billiard ball, stick shift knob, beer tap, or similar item.
You ever thought about jacking your chair up 2 or 3 feet, "Monster Truck' style.
You have knobby mud tires - that never get dirty.
You installed a horn so your chair will squeal like a hog - or scare people like a semi tractor/trailer.
You installed a whip antenna so you can fly the stars and bars!
There is a 'Harley' decal or emblem permanently attached to your chair.
You installed a CB under your chair.
You replaced your seat with a Barco or Lazy Boy Lounger.
You found the above Lounger abandoned on the side of the road.
There is some anatomical portion of a deer or raccoon decorating any part of your chair.
You have ever thought about smuggling moonshine in the tubing or battery compartment of the chair.
You, while in your wheelchair, ever created any road kill.
The accessories hangin' on your chair weigh more than 1/3 what your w/c does.
You browse truck catalogs looking for ways to amp up your wheelchair motors
You want to add a side-car or a 'sweet little trailer'.
You wear a 4 pound shiny Rodeo Champ belt buckle that your stomach folds over.
The fringe on your jacket and/or your bolo tie has gotten caught in your wheels - but you wear 'em anyway.
You regularly call Harley Davidson and ask when they're gonna start making power wheelchairs.
You have spent more than an hour trying to figure out where to hang fuzzy dice from your chair.
Duct tape plays a major role in your repair and maintenance plan.
You read this list and found yourself thinking, at any point, "Now that's a good idea!"

WOW - Apparently there's quite a few redneck 6-wheeler's around here that can relate!

There's a few additions to this list that definately need mentioning! =>

.... You have ever repainted your adaptive equipment with flames.

.... Your service dog and wallet are both on a chain.

.... Your nickname is printed on your wheelchair some where.

.... You entered the tricycle races at field day citing 'Title IX' .

.... If your wheelchair has a gun rack and a bottle opener.

.... If your service dog is a Pit Bull.

___________________________________________________
Keep 'em coming folks! I love this!

BTW: IF you're laughing... it'd better be with me, not at me! *grins*
I fit way too many of these categories I'm afraid!

(Photo's may be forthcoming.... Understandably, we LIKE proof.)

If you enjoyed reading this.... please come visit my profile and read s'more -
let me welcome you with entertaining writing and many more smiles.

((Warning: I Do Not dabble in whining - and bitching is generally OFF my radar!
BTW, you’ll find no "God stuff" either. I figure this isn't church, and I'm no preacher.))

Many thanks and best wishes to you and yours!

- wzername -

________________________________

"6-wheelers” ROCK!

Olivette Turbeville — Sun, 30 Mar 2008 15:21:00 GMT

"6-wheelers” ROCK! Hell-yeah" (the crowd goes wild...)
Here's the Top Ten =>

1. Ordinary Bipeds are jealous 'cuz us 6-wheelers can haul a** thru airports, malls, parks and down the middle of a street doin' about 6 mph!!! (Few joggers can keep up the pace for 20+ miles.)

2. We get to feel the wind blow in our hair - even on a perfectly still day.

3. We're saving gas in a BIG way. [Totally Green dude, totally!]

4. People DIVE off the sidewalks in front of us. (It's like playing PacMan with pedestrians. What joy and wickedly delicious glee! Yeah.... you know you wanna.)

5. We can OUTRUN the dog!!!

6. We can outrun the neighbors dog. (Escaping used to SUK on crutches.)

7. We can drag kids around on roller blades (or skateboards) for hours - whether they want too or not. (Grab their shirt when you roll by - their screaming is hilarious when they spin backwards in tow!)

8. I've got big motors to carry all the junk in my trunk.... (and the crap in my backpack too. *grins* )

9. We can DRIVE Our Recliners!

10. And, we can drive our recliners INDOORS. (Life is spectacular.)

__________

Grieving Deeply?

Olivette Turbeville — Sat, 29 Mar 2008 18:25:00 GMT

"If you feel deeply, you will grieve deeply. If you deny your grief, you deny the reality of the love you felt."

This certainly applies to the loss of our 'normal' self . Don't give yourself too much crap about grieving - just do it - as much and as long as you need too. Sooner or later you'll find that your grieving evolved and you'll be flowing into the mainstream of your new life.

How heavy is a glass of water?

Olivette Turbeville — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 11:58:00 GMT

  How heavy is a glass of water?

The absolute weight doesn't matter.
It depends on how long and how high you have to hold it.

If held for a minute, it's not a problem.
If held for an hour, the hand and arm holding it will ache miserably.
If held for a day, you may wish to call for an ambulance!
In each case, it's the same weight.
But the longer it is held, the heavier it becomes.

Perhaps it is the same way with a disability?
If we carry the burden of disability over our heads all the time,
sooner or later the burden becomes increasingly heavy and can
become unmanageable.

As with the glass of water, you have to put the weight of it down for awhile and
give yourself a rest before hoisting it again.   Once refreshed, you can continue
with far less effort and stress.

So we should give ourselves the gift of rest - let esteem and confidence rise to the
surface, instead of the disability. Don't carry it overhead again, until rested - considerably.
There is nothing else so important that can't be put aside until we're refreshed.
Let mind and body regenerate in peace.

Pick up the burden of disability later, and consider for a moment that maybe it isn't
even ~~NECESSARY~~. And perhaps you'll find that tomorrow - indeed, sooner than not -
you might even learn to appreciate a fresh glass of water.

______________________________

Perhaps this lovely bit will be etched on my tombstone a zillion years from now? I smile to think...
I remember a day 13years ago - after a motor vehicle wreck - when I first hoisted a whole 'bucket'
of water overhead.

My name is Olivette and I'm a 54yr old ex-hippie, and widowed mother of two stellar adult boys.
Ex-hippie you say? OH yeah... I think its like being a marine or nurse or the like.
A person might outgrow the propensity, but not necessarily the trait.
So deep down I'm purdy sure I'm still a hippie... I just outgrew paisley and bell bottoms.

Apparently old hippies are not bullet proof, and can be devastated
by motor vehicle wrecks.   Congress warned us back in the 60's
that drug use would lead to our demise.... turned out to be a rolled
over vehicle instead. In hindsight, maybe we should've smoked
bigger stacks of weed rather acquiring a dangerous drivers license?
Who knew...

My husband was also an old hippie. But, suddenly we were no
longer who we imagined ourselves to be. He became a "C3-4 quad"
and I was his decrepid wheelchair wife, with shattered bones from
head to toe. I was lucky... and, compared to my husbands injuries,
I couldn't really bitch. I could still stand, and breathe, and pee by myself.

All was well... well kinda.... OK NOT. A gaping vortex of deficit engulfed me.

Years went by and I howled at the moon regularly, and rightfully.  My size 12 figure increased
exponentially as my movements decreased, my amped sex life vanished, my adventurous
bad-boy husband withered, my ability to walk failed, and my sense of self was all but obliterated.
I felt assured that someday I'd prevail and overcome. (It's in the essential core of my being.)
But, I didn't feel it would arrive soon enough.  I was wearing out. And of course with additional
surgery's and body parts failing... my 'glass of water' was mighty damn heavy, overflowed, and
drowned me.... regularly.

Five years after the wreck my husband escaped the gravitational pull of this planet.
Some time after his passing, I refocused on the remainder of myself.
I clearly missed the young happy hippy girl I once was.
Indeed, this turned out to be an unexpected vision and led to my needed metamorphosis.

PLAN A => Hippies traditionally smoke doobies and hug trees, right? (Well, that's how I remember it.)
So I scrounged through my friends and family until I wrangled up a doob. Packed up my junk,
loaded up my wheelchair and kids - and headed to the mountains in search of a lonely tree.
Holy Mackerel! A couple nights contemplating a camp fire was like being recharged with a
lightening bolt. OK, so reliving my tree hugging days was a blast-from-the-past... but, it wasn't
like that at home no-mo!! Grrrrrrr...

PLAN B => A melody flowed from the radio, "If you want to be somebody else, change your mind"
Renewed energy coursed through my veins. I was higher that day than the doob could realistically
take credit for. It dawned on me that I'd better prepare for major alterations within myself and at HOME!

I spent a few years working diligently at reinventing my hippie self. Not successfully at first.
Some components were just not intact anymore, and pounds of smoke just weren't in my future.
I'd obviously outgrown tree hugging, much like paisley... but something familiar stirred and nagged at me.

PLAN C => I decided not to be concerned about the body I now inhabited.
I found I rather enjoyed my ungainly self and stopped comparing my anatomical maladies to my late
husbands, or to my younger self.  I realize I was privileged to have the body of a 50+ woman - having
earned all thedamage and wrinkles and what not!   (("I am woman, hear me roar" is far more pleasant
than, "I am woman hear me whine."))

PLAN C 1/2 => I began roaring at the moon instead of howling.
Spectacular change for me - but the moon seemed to remain indifferent.

PLAN D => "Use every opportunity at your disposal, or learn to be content with missed opportunities
and ineptitude." The old hippie in me was itching to impact the world again, and make it a better place.
I turned my attention to our university for new and better ramps, parking, elevators, and transit access
beyond campus. Done deal! Then I redirected my efforts toward better access and transportation in our
little town. Yah, I know its a tired story - fix the world and you'll fix yourself. Somehow its just not wrong.

PLAN E => Eventually, I found help to keep my house as clean as it once was. Remarkable difference
in my outlook just by efficiently maintaining my surroundings. I started to earnestly modify everything in
my environment to suit me. Sweeeet! "I enjoy my crib - therefore, I enjoy my life." OK, its not a famous
quote, but it's also not an unreasonable leap... and bears repeating. My household became a source of
pride and joy again!

PLAN F => Applying the same focus to my adaptive equipment, I quit using make-do crap and revamped
the tools I needed to live - not minimally, but exceptionally. Wow. Remarkable. When I treated
myself like I deserved the best, I became MY best. One somehow followed the other naturally.
My family also followed this course. For my youngest sons graduation, my boys collaborated and built
ME a trike-motorcycle! In a heartbeat we launched on a 1500 mile adventure with my manual chair
in a trailer behind it. ((xx0x0xx)) I told you I had stellar sons...

Somewhere along the line I changed from damaged, to damn fine!
Love was in the air. I was back to being an alpha mom, and the world beckoned.
(And, I realized that it had always beckoned... but, I was simply off the radar awhile.)

~~OUT OF PLANS~~... JUST GOIN' WITH THE FLOW => After years of fine tuning my world... my inner
hippy-self was once again happy. I mean truly content... even when my "glass of water" overflowed with
yet another surgery, illness or age... I wasn't bummed or burdened. No misery in sight.
I was mighty dog-gone happy.

"WHAT" you say??? (Happy is a might STRONG word here....) Yep. Happy!

When I tally up the sum of these past 13 years, I'm astonished and purdy pleased with my lot in life.

I've ridden a customized motorcycle-trike
over half the western states.

I've ridden a horse all day to climb a mountain
and and picnic'd by a pond at the highest peak,
riding down at sunset.

And white water rafted on the Snake River.

And sort of Roller Bladed... for the first time ever!

I've sailed or flown outside the US enough to have covered 12% of the globe.
And I did it to celebrate my ability - not in spite of 'disabilitiy'.

More than a few travelers have looked longingly at me hauling ass
across an airport with my power wheelchair and trailer, towing a stack
of luggage like a truck driver!

My sons are grown and the youngest will inevitably leave our treasured nest.
So, at their persistent urging I applied and was recently accepted into a
Certified Service Dog program. Whoa nelly! Before long I'll enjoy having
a companion to lend a paw with my activities, and a buddy to nuzzle and
share TV time. Now there's a real switcheroo! Who'd have thought?

For those of you still reading.... all this eventually leads back to
"The weight of a glass of water". You see, everyone ends up with
a hefty glass of water. Learn to drink deeply, and cherish the life it offers.
Don't hold onto it until you're in agony and dying of thirst.

If you do, I swear, eventually you'll look forward to the next full glass.

Thanks for visiting with me,

¯¯`·>-= wzername =-<·´¯¯

* Drive carefully. not only cars can be recalled.