“Be the first…”
I didn’t want to win this contest. It’s not “Be the first kid on your block to have sea monkeys!”
Being the first of my friends to hang a handicap permit did not carry a sense of excitement, but shame. Somehow I hadn’t cared well for the right leg. Ridiculous, I know.
Prior to the parking advantage, my husband accompanied me to a large department store. I knew I’d need him to provide physical support on my right side while I used my cane on the left. We joked about how pitiful I looked when young employees passed us and said, “You two are so cute. Thanks for shopping with us.”
Cute? Lurching across the parking lot at one-quarter of my former speed was not cute. At that moment I coveted a parking space close to the store.
I’d resisted asking my doctor to approve the application required by the DMV because I wouldn’t accept that I’m old enough, or semi-able, and needed the accommodation. When a friend suggested it, I knew it was time.
I only went inside a drugstore if I needed a life saving prescription. For non-essentials I ordered online and personnel delivered to the car.
Now the hurdles between parking and front doors are fewer. I’ll expand my outings to an occasional trip to TJMaxx. I can go to a Starbucks inside a grocery store. Getting inside the building won’t be the hardest part of an appointment. The walk from parking to Trader Joe’s won’t be three times the distance of the actual shopping.
Aging tends to restrict lives in unwanted ways. It's easier to give-in to a difficulty than find a way around it. The blue hanging tag is an adaptation which I will appreciate, yet hope to relinquish.
