Hitting the Curb - Hard

Much profanity ahead. Well, not much by my standards, but perhaps a bit by yours.


My mother loved to haul some serious ass in her wheelchair. Woman did not slow down for anything. She was the crazy lady begging us to let her go at the top of ramps. . . She had one leg, so often the fastest way to go was to push herself with that one leg backwards. Zoom. Go. Go. Go. One time, we were taking the pups to the vet, and they had just poured new concrete. For some reason, my mother thought it was ramp all the way. Backwards she went, zoom, zooooom, CRASH, BOOM! She hit that curb going as fast as she could go. She went flying out of that chair and landed flat on her ass. Her face? Startled! What the hell just happened? Then laughter. My mother was always good for a laugh.

I hit the curb today too. But I didn't laugh. I've been crying all day.

I picked my gorgeous girl (who is driving me nuts lately) up from school and off we went to our favorite after school destination. Bonus points if you guess it. It's Target. I know, too easy. Anyway, as we approached the light on the corner, an old man was trying to get his wheelchair to hop the curb so he could get on the sidewalk. Now that's a trick my mom would do too. She couldn't be bothered with handicap ramps at the END of the walk. She got on where she was. But this guy wasn't making it. I rolled down my window and asked if he needed a push up. Yep, he did. So I stopped, set on my hazards, and got out to help him. I had to roll him down to the ramp part of the sidewalk, which was a joke and a half. It was on a hill, AND had a huge lip to it, so really, unless you had great strength (like my mom had) or someone pushing you, you weren't getting up that thing in a manual wheelchair. It just wasn't possible. I had to turn him backwards and pull him up, it was such a steep area, and such a big lip to the curb/ramp/whatever the eff you want to call it.

Here it is, this is what counts as wheelchair accessible.

I got him up, turned him around, and said goodbye. He saw my girl watching through the window and told me she was a pretty thing. I said she was my world. I waved and got back in my van. I had caused a mild traffic jam, but the guys in the car next to me, rolled down their window to tell me that I was nice. I said thanks. I felt fine.

Then my daughter asked why I did that? I explained that, well, when GaeGae (my mom) was in a wheelchair, wouldn't we have wanted someone to help her? Yep, we would have. "So that's why you did it?" Yep, that's why. Because we all should help each other.

Next up, biggest cryfest this girl has had in a while. I sat and sobbed and snotted all over my pretty new infinity scarf in the Target parking lot. I don't want to be nice and help other people up on the sidewalk ( I mean, I can, but that isn't what I WANT! )I want my mom. I want to push her up ramps and let her fly down them. I want to help her up the curb, and I want to lift her from the ground when the curb knocks her out of her seat. I want her to tell me I'm nice. I just want her.

That was the first time I've pushed a wheelchair since she died. I had no idea it would affect me that way. For so long I hated that wheelchair. I hated that it put this distance between us, made me more of her guide than her companion, made it more difficult to hug, be physical. I hated the limits it placed on her, and how cumbersome it could be. And now I just ache to hold those handles and push. I ache to deal with pushing her chair through doors that won't stay open when no one seems to want to help. I WANT to fold that chair up and throw it in the back of my van for the fifth time that day. I long to see her hauling ass backwards in it, and me shouting at her to BE CAREFUL. I miss that sorry ass chair. I miss that crazy, loving, fun woman; my mom.

As far as I go, I've hit a curb too. I am doing so much better, but after talking with my therapist, we realize my anxiety is back in full strength. She thinks my grief has turned into depression and that I need to up my medications. She's right. I'm shaking at everything. My surgery is coming up, and I keep hitting a wall on that too. I feel change on the horizon, and I'm scared I'm going to mess it all up. I'm just scared, and lonely, and well, motherless. Which is the worst. I can't think of a more awful word to be.


Anyway, I'm okay. It is going to be okay. I have therapy tomorrow, and tomorrow is a new day. Hopefully one where I can keep my emotions in check. Hopefully one where I can find a ramp, or if I do hit the curb, I can get up and laugh.

I miss you mom. I wish I had half your strength.

PS. I will try and take a picture of this sidewalk tomorrow so you can see what I am talking about. It is in front of the Whataburger on 9th Ave.
UPDATE: Pic added above