Last week, I scared the shit out of myself. I already know how stupid I was, so please don’t reinforce things by telling me to be careful. I’m so aware of what I did, I just want lots of caramel, and a fair amount of “there, there” pats on my head. (You probably know better than to offer dumb advice, but I don’t.)

I’m STILL getting used to the wheelchair and learning the space around me when I’m in it. Friday was the first time I went out when it was threatening rain. Over the years I’ve learned, using the scooter, that coats and jackets are pretty useless while you are sitting down. Jackets don’t reach, coats fall open (“you might as well live"*,) wait, sorry, no no NO, wrong reference. (let’s not always see the same hands**).

*See Dorothy Paker.)

(**thank you Mr. Lehrer).

It wasn’t raining when I left the house but it was clearly planning on it. Leaving the Monkey Grind on my way to the bank/volunteer gig, I threw my rain poncho on and headed out the door. Halfway down the block, the poncho caught on the wheels and ripped. It took only, what, five seconds? But I could not think and it took over five seconds, I’m sure for my brain to engage and say “take your goddam hand OFF the controls. Stop.”

By which time I was almost off the chair on the ground. A person walking toward me walked right past me, never seeing if she could help. Maybe it didn’t look like I was in trouble.

I was. It could have been lots worse as I think I was three or so seconds of flying out of the chair, the power of which was still on. Now that I think back, I wonder what the terminology is for catching a crab in a wheelchair (those of you who know a little bit about rowing/crew might get that very feeble joke.) (been there done that too – well, close) But I am okay. I am bruised and you can’t see it but it will be some days probably before I can touch that area of my neck without wincing and making that “breathe in through your teeth ouchie” noise.

What bothers me so much is, well it’s two-fold. I keep skittering away from thinking about it, in part because it scared me and in part because I feel so hugely hugely stupid for letting it happen. And the other is that I keep getting weepy about it. I’m not quite sure if I’m crying because I scared myself, because I felt so stupid or because I still feel so moronic when it comes to learning about the wheelchair. I wrote this in draft before realizing I hadn’t actually said what happened. Haven’t been able to say “the left side of poncho got caught in my right front wheel”.

I also have no fucking idea what to do about the rain. I cannot simply can’t only go out in rain-free weather. This is goddam Seattle. I have books to mail, errands to run and part of the reason for having the goddam chair is to have a life, which impending rainy season or no, goes the hell on. I do not, will not deal with an umbrella. Yes, the chair only requires me to use one hand to control it. I don’t care. The risks of wind grabbing the thing, the fact that I just want my hands down and not to tax my back and shoulders which are increasingly whiny, it’s just a no.

I’ve now trashed/tossed three ponchos in 15 years. The first ripped and I don’t remember how. The second was a piece of cheap junk I got just to have something and it was so lightweight that it flew up into my face every day and it blocked my vision. Tucking it under me seldom worked and I just never found it useful. This one, which took a while to find was a $30 REI masterpiece. It’s not salvageable, having ripped pretty much diagonally and I just can’t deal. In fact, I’ve been in “can’t deal” mode for days. I went on to my volunteer job in part because I had stuff to donate and what the hell, I was out and had stuff to do. Happily, the office was very dry and my clothes (my fabulous red silk “track suit” dried fast and by the time I left, the rain had let up (though tit began in earnest after a few hours and I was oh so happy to be home. And thanks to Doneta for even trying to tape me back together. As I said, that was so not in her job description.

I then had a meltdown all over Stu when he got home and I tried to articulate what I needed and couldn’t. I stuttered a lot and just flailed around trying to be practical. He took that over for me and has been patting me as much as I will alow, but I’m still having little crying jags out of sheer frustration and anger. I HATE HATE HATE HATE feeling fucking STOOPID. And this was stupid. Scary, but stupid.

Years ago, I thought about getting foul weather gear for the days when I was volunteering at the hospital and the van managed not to show again, or was delayed an hour or more (one reason I quit that volunteer job, though not the main one.) I often ended up going home on surface streets from 30 some blocks away. I figured it would be too warm, but it now appears that it might be the solution since I cannot seem to manage to safely get myself into the chair and keep stuff away from the wheels (she says with humongous grumpiness since it happened twice so far today, one with a bathrobe tie, once with the sleeves from the sweatshirt I was about to don. I guess I’m impatient. I can’t quite figure things out. I can’t learn the space around me, the wheels or what’s behind me to the degree that I still whack into stuff. I’m shaky and feeling far too stupid. Getting something to wear will probably be the easier thing – Stu did find some rain suit type stuff that is way lighter than foul weather gear and will serve the very important purpose of keeping my legs dry – that thing that jackets and coats can’t do. But I’ not sure what anyone can do for my impatience and my ongoing feeling like “I’ll never get this”. And I'm still having little cringy crying jags.

Oh yeah, and Bouchercon is next weekend and I won’t be there. This promises to be a real fun week. Shit.

Pass the squishies.

(***you don’t know this one? Look it up – it’s over on wikipedia among others.)