the difference a day makes...

I continually have reminders that I am different.

Some days I just want to scream from my wheelchair, "Are you kidding me?!!" Yesterday was one of those days.

I ran errands in the morning and met a friend for lunch. The restaurant was busy and tables were pushed together to accommodate the large parties that gathered. As a result the aisles were quite tight- even for an "abled" bodied person to walk through. Now picture me in a wheelchair and a large dog navigating the oblivious crowds. Or not so oblivious. This is when frustration comes into play for me. As soon as I approach a table to pass by to make my way through the cramped quarters, people stop talking and stare. I stop. I can't squeeze by. "Surely, they will move. Just be patient." Nope. Still staring. I am stopped. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!" I take a deep breath, smile and ask the person if they would mind moving so I am able to pass by. A reminder I am different.
After lunch I recognize that I am a little more sensitive and inhale a bit with the hopes that my exhale would relieve my bad attitude. Not so much.

I was as equally angered when I was at a different location to meet with another friend for coffee. As I made my way to the restroom, I assessed the situation and realized the location of the bathroom was not designed by a person in a wheelchair with a service dog. If it weren't for a full bladder, I would have held off until I was home. "You can do this, Holly. Besides, those girls will help you." After two failed attempts of keeping the door open so Delsie would be able to pass through, I knew it would be impossible. I glanced over at the two girls figuring they were deep in conversation, not aware of the predicament I was in. Nope. They were staring. Not moving. Just staring. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!"

Another reminder that I am different.

But it is because of this difference that I am part of this clinical study in the hope of finding a treatment or cure for FA.

So, I have the bad with the good. We all do. I just happen to be in a wheelchair with a service dog.
I am different.
And I am glad that we all are.

Oblivious and all. Frustrated and blessed. Hurting and humbled. I'll keep pressing on.

Tomorrow I leave for my third clinic.
It's fun being different.
Even with painful reminders.