Food for (Thought)Less

9/22/97

Food For (Thought)Less

I embarked on my shopping trip this morning by first inadvertently choosing the "cart from hell". I didn't realize this until the first heavy items were placed inside. It groaned and squeaked continuously yet I was lucky enough that all the wheels pointed straight ahead at the same time. I considered finding someone else's unattended cart and "making a switch" when they weren't looking but found no such luck. The heavier the cart got, the more attention it called to me. I suppose I could have gone by the hardware aisle and given it a spray of WD-40 while no one was looking but that didn't occur to me at the time. I just wanted to get out of there.

I had taken my medicine in the parking lot but wasn't enjoying an "on" moment so I didn't necessarily want the added attention of my fellow shoppers so I found that if I lifted up on the back of the cart, it reduced the noise a fair amount (and verified that I would have a chiropractor's appointment later in the week). With my cart full of groceries, I approached the waiting lines at the cashier.

While waiting in line, I observed a young woman, a store employee, who was afflicted with either cerebral palsy or MS or something debilitating. She was going from cashier to cashier picking up items that were to be returned to the shelves. Her posture looked very twisted and uncomfortable and something in her stance reminded me of old dyskinetic moments. She was slowly pushing her cart from line to line and people were making room for her since it seemed to be a great effort for her to maneuver the cart. I had seen her before but, like so many others, I averted my gaze when she looked my way. When I did observe her, she was not intimidated by anyone or anything and went about her job.

I thought long and hard about why I didn't want to make eye contact. I thought of how horrible and alone I felt when I was in a crowd of functional people and I had trouble walking, talking, getting a billfold out of my pocket, or bagging my groceries. I thought about the inner conversations I used to have where I mentally screamed at the world "What are you looking at? Haven't you ever seen a young man severely affected by PD and the medicine used to cope with it? Yes, those are pee stains on my pants...do you know what a chore it is to fumble with a zipper when your bladder control and/or balance is almost nil? Don't you know how much I hate being trapped in this body that refuses to cooperate? Don't you people realize how much of your healthy bodies you take for granted each and every day!"

Of course, that was before my surgery in April, Life is much different now. My worst "off" periods are like some of my old "on" times. I occasionally ask for help returning bills to my billfold or when asked to fill out paperwork at the oil-change place but these are the exception now, not the rule. When my meds kick in now, I play my banjo or sit calmly and read a book or type letters to friends. I guess that's what kept me from looking in her eyes. My condition changes with the medicine and the stares become less frequent. Hers seemed to be a round-the-clock state of being; I know that would wear on me. I guess I couldn't comprehend the bravery in making it through each day with an unchanging condition that has twisted your body so and marveled at her inner resolve that had her out working. She tried to look me directly in the eye...I was the weak one.



		9/22/97 Food For (Thought)Less I embarked on my shopping trip this morning by first inadvertently choosing the "cart from hell". I didn't realize this until the first heavy items were placed inside. It groaned and squeaked continuously yet I was lucky enough that all the wheels pointed straight ahead at the same time. I considered finding someone else's unattended cart and "making a switch" when they weren't looking but found no such luck. The heavier the cart got, the more attention it called to me. I suppose I could have gone by the hardware aisle and given it a spray of WD-40 while no one was looking but that didn't occur to me at the time. I just wanted to get out of there. I had taken my medicine in the parking lot but wasn't enjoying an "on" moment so I didn't necessarily want the added attention of my fellow shoppers so I found that if I lifted up on the back of the cart, it reduced the noise a fair amount (and verified that I would have a chiropractor's appointment later in the week). With my cart full of groceries, I approached the waiting lines at the cashier. While waiting in line, I observed a young woman, a store employee, who was afflicted with either cerebral palsy or MS or something debilitating. She was going from cashier to cashier picking up items that were to be returned to the shelves. Her posture looked very twisted and uncomfortable and something in her stance reminded me of old dyskinetic moments. She was slowly pushing her cart from line to line and people were making room for her since it seemed to be a great effort for her to maneuver the cart. I had seen her before but, like so many others, I averted my gaze when she looked my way. When I did observe her, she was not intimidated by anyone or anything and went about her job. I thought long and hard about why I didn't want to make eye contact. I thought of how horrible and alone I felt when I was in a crowd of functional people and I had trouble walking, talking, getting a billfold out of my pocket, or bagging my groceries. I thought about the inner conversations I used to have where I mentally screamed at the world "What are you looking at? Haven't you ever seen a young man severely affected by PD and the medicine used to cope with it? Yes, those are pee stains on my pants...do you know what a chore it is to fumble with a zipper when your bladder control and/or balance is almost nil? Don't you know how much I hate being trapped in this body that refuses to cooperate? Don't you people realize how much of your healthy bodies you take for granted each and every day!" Of course, that was before my surgery in April, Life is much different now. My worst "off" periods are like some of my old "on" times. I occasionally ask for help returning bills to my billfold or when asked to fill out paperwork at the oil-change place but these are the exception now, not the rule. When my meds kick in now, I play my banjo or sit calmly and read a book or type letters to friends. I guess that's what kept me from looking in her eyes. My condition changes with the medicine and the stares become less frequent. Hers seemed to be a round-the-clock state of being; I know that would wear on me. I guess I couldn't comprehend the bravery in making it through each day with an unchanging condition that has twisted your body so and marveled at her inner resolve that had her out working. She tried to look me directly in the eye...I was the weak one.