Everyone Loves a Snow Day

I went to bed last night thinking the predicted storm might not be so bad for us. The meteorologists were calling for heavy wet snow for the nearby Catskill, Adirondack and Berkshire mountains – over a foot. But as of 10 PM, we were only supposed to get 2-5 inches.

Here’s what it looked like at 8 AM. When my Personal Assistant left, the snow was over her shoes. Side note – she’s a gem for driving here at 5:15 AM to get me out of bed and showered on days like this. She never calls out due to snow.

My office was closed today because the building lost power due to the storm. Even though it’s been 23 years since my last days as a full-time student, I am young enough to appreciate a snow day. Especially one I did not expect!

So far, I have been fabulously lazy. For the past 4 hours all I’ve done is crochet while binge-watching episodes of Bondi Rescue on Netflix. Yes, I know, it’s crap reality TV. But it’s sunshine, blue water and Australian (mostly shirtless) life guards. When this is the current view outside, I’ll take mindless sun and surf any way I can get it!

Winter scene of heavy snow on an apartment building with cars parked in a lot.
That’s my van Clyde buried under the snow.

How about you? What’s your favorite snow day activity?

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BraVa! 2017: What is Pretty?

Once again last year, I participated in BraVa! This event, a fundraiser for the YWCA of the Greater Capital Region, is described by creator Marion Roach Smith as “a night of memoir about the place of bras in our life.” Admission to the event includes a new bra. The bras are given to women who are in need.

I am honored to have participated in BraVa! for three years. When the call for submissions for the 2017 event came out last September, I wasn’t planning to write anything. Life was too busy. I was moving at the end of October, and I had no time to write. Plus, I didn’t know if I had another bra story in me. I had already written two (this one and this one) and couldn’t think of something new.

But, the day of the submission deadline I decided I had to at least try. I sat at my computer thinking of everything that had happened since the start of 2016 – the femur fracture, rehabilitation, moving out of my apartment, facing another imminent move into a new apartment, not being able to independently drive, trying to maintain full-time employment and volunteer activities. I reminded myself that I had set a goal to submit a piece of writing somewhere in 2017, and how I had not yet done so.

I started to write at 6:38 PM. At 10:03 PM I hit “submit” and uploaded my essay. I had no hope of being selected to read, but was proud that I sent it in. When I received the notice it had been chosen, I was honestly surprised and of course honored.

I never considered that I might be developing a local reputation as a woman who writes about bras until I attended TEDxAlbany in December. One of the speakers, Jené Luciani, spoke about how to find the perfect bra. (You can learn more about her talk here.) As we gathered back in the auditorium after lunch, a woman came up to me and told me she recognized me from BraVa! She then asked if I was going to be speaking about bras! We laughed as I explained I was just a member of the audience this time.

Since that encounter, three other strangers have approached me about my BraVa! readings. As someone who is routinely approached by strangers because of my disability, it is refreshing to have people stop me for a different reason. Perhaps, I’m OK with being known as the “bra lady” after all!

Here is the piece I read in November for BraVa! I hope the next time you are shopping for a new bra for yourself (or someone you love), you’ll consider buying an extra bra for a local women’s shelter. Everyone can use support now and then.

Umbrella clothesline full of bras in assorted sizes and colors.

What is Pretty?

I was two hours late for work on my first day back after an unexpected five day absence due to an intense sinus infection. An emergency wheelchair repair delayed my arrival, but I was determined to make it through the day now that I was finally at the office.

So when I began to get a strange sensation “down there” around noon I ignored it. I had been so wiped out by the sinus infection, I completely forgot my period was due.

I had to go home to change before the situation became even uglier. I called one of my Personal Assistants to help. We arrived home at the same time, and I urgently threw my cape aside as I rushed to the commode.

But, even when the need is great, one should not rush a transfer from wheelchair to commode. Particularly when the Personal Assistant who is working is incapable of following verbal directions. She didn’t listen to my commands. She dropped me.

SNAP! I heard the crack of the splintering bone as my butt crashed down on my ankle..

Imagine the scene – me, half naked on the floor by the commode, bleeding and still needing to pee, knee blown up the size of a basketball, a whimpering Personal Assistant trying too late to make things better. And now in walks the police officer, the first to respond to the 9-1-1 call.

It wasn’t pretty.

It definitely wasn’t pretty as the paramedics moved me to a backboard then lifted me to a stretcher. It turned downright ugly as I swore nonstop in agony while they secured me in the rig. We don’t need to talk about the ambulance ride to the hospital.

Two days later, the surgeon reassembled my fractured femur with, in his words, “a plate, screws, chicken wire and bubble gum.” I asked him to point out the bubble gum on the x-ray, and was told sometimes that dissolves before imaging. The thirteen screws and eight inch plate that I will carry for the rest of my life are clearly visible.

After two weeks in a hospital bed, it was time for me to get dressed and head to Sunnyview Rehabilitation Hospital for intensive physical and occupational therapy. I was the least pretty I had ever felt in my life. I needed a shower, a razor, a manicure, and a good pair of tweezers.

My friend Sally brought some clothes, honoring my request for loose tops and comfortable pants. As she removed the items from a bag, I saw a flash of red.

I know you aren’t feeling like yourself, but I figured you’d want a pretty bra.

Sally, bless her heart, knows I don’t wear boring white bras even on the worst of days. She understands my need for color, the satisfaction I gain from knowing underneath my sensible, sexless fleece turtleneck is a scrap of satin that gives support to so much more than my breasts. Sally packed six colorful bras for me – and a tan one because she is practical after all.

I worked harder than I ever had at any physical task for those two weeks at Sunnyview. Three hours of exercise every day, enduring the most intense orthopedic pain I’ve ever experienced. It was not an attractive time for me. I was angry, bitter, and resentful. I have never been an exercise person, and now I was breaking a sweat – in the morning AND afternoon! Thank goodness I had all of those bras because there was no way I was wearing any of them for more than one day at a time.

I continued therapy for months at home and as an outpatient, learning new ways to perform all of my activities of daily living. I will never recover some of the function I had before the femur fracture. I now need more assistance to complete tasks I used to do independently. So much in life has changed because of that fall twenty months ago.

One thing has not changed. I still like, and wear, pretty bras. I don’t wear them for a man or a woman. I’m not trying to impress or attract anyone with my colorful lingerie.

I wear them to remind myself that even when life hands me the most repulsive challenges, causing me to grimace daily and feel unlovable and homely, I am beautiful on the inside, through it all. And I deserve every color of the rainbow.

Photo of baby wombats at a feeding bowl. The image features white text which reads "30 Days of Thanks Winner! Once again, I am thankful for baby wombats."

30 Days of Thanks Day 30: December!

Tonight is the last of my 30 Days of Thanks posts for 2017. Another year, another round of daily gratitude posts.

I am thankful that I made it through the month. I am proud of myself for setting the goal on October 31st of committing to daily gratitude posts – and meeting the goal! I have not been consistent with my daily writing this past year, but I managed to pull this off.

I am grateful, so incredibly grateful, to all of you who read my posts and supported me on this journey. Your comments, emails, and texts kept me focused and gave me strength when I was ready to say, “I’m not going to finish!”

Yet, here we are. Tomorrow is December 1st. I am reminded yet again how important it is to remain grateful in the midst of life’s challenges.

Did everything n November go according to plan? Of course not.

But so many amazing things happened in November – from Hamilton, to Brava!, to cookies with my sisters, and everything in between.

I am truly blessed to be surrounded by so much love. I am grateful for the opportunity to work and live independently. I appreciate your support and loyalty to me and my writing.

Welcome December!

A white peace lily flower stands amidst dark green leaves.

30 Days of Thanks Day 26: Flowers

I got back from my Thanksgiving holiday this afternoon. When I walked in my apartment, the first thing I saw was a new flower on my peace lily plant.

If you are unfamiliar with the story of my peace lily plant, and the significance of a new flower, I encourage you to read this post.

Coming home to a new flower felt like my sister and my father were greeting me as I returned from this past weekend. I smiled and offered a prayer of gratitude.

Then I managed to shove eight containers full of cookies in my freezer.

30 Days of Thanks Day 12: Massage

I used to work in a large building with several offices. I hated most of life in the cube farm. The one thing I loved was my weekly massage.

Alyssa, my massage therapist, came to the building once a week to give chair massages. For twenty minutes every Wednesday around 1:00, I would sit in bliss as she slowly tried to work the stiffness from my neck and shoulders.

As I was preparing to leave that job for my current employer, I lamented to Alyssa that our weekly visits would be what I missed most after I left. Her reply filled me with joy and hope.

You know, I do make house calls.

So, for the past five years, Alyssa has come to my house once a month for an hour-long massage. Last year when I was in the hospital, she came to visit me. Her gentle touch helped relieve some of the swelling in my feet and toes.

Today was massage day, and boy did I need it! I’m not just saying that. Alyssa kept mentioning it too as she found new areas needing work.

I told her I was going to make her my daily gratitude, because she is by far the best thing that happened to me today. Thanks for helping me feel better for so long Alyssa. I’m grateful for your talented hands, but more appreciative of our friendship.

Two open hands with red palms.
Alyssa’s hands after a massage.