Tags: daily living, disability, disability and marriage, disability and relationships, Megan Cutter, wheelchairs
Two weeks ago, we took two more doors down- the doors to the bedroom and the office. And our story, well, we survived, but our poor house is just come tumbling down.
It started when Barton got his new wheelchair, which is a little longer and has a wider turning radius than his previous wheelchair. I gave him some slack before chiding him about the new dents in the hallway and taking out the bottom screws to the door by pushing it out multiple times. It’s a good thing we have a power screwdriver- we’ve put it to good use.
But it’s not Barton’s fault we took the doors down. It seems that I got his wheelchair stuck in the hallway while we were getting ready for bed. And I pushed it into Combat Mode- sensitive little joystick bugger that it is. I was sitting in the wheelchair to work on maneuvering the front wheels when I took off, blasting through the doorway to the bedroom, taking the door full off its hinges.
I was laughing so hard that I sort of forgot to take my hand off the joystick and ran straight into the bedroom wall- full on. The imprint of the bottom wheel is still a precise half-moon hole in the drywall.
That was the last straw, the doors came tumbling down. We took the one in the office off, too, since Barton had knocked the bottom off its hinges as well. Both are now sitting outside on the back porch. Before long, there won’t be any left in our house.
Tags: disability, disability and marriage, disability and relationships, Megan Cutter, Work, writing
I knew it was bad when we were at the coffee shop, and Barton showed me the black screen. Last year I experienced the black screen after pressing the power button until my finger cramped, the action yielded the same result- The Black Screen. Since I had been in the middle of an article for our local newspaper, I actually switched to a Mac, put off by the slow response by the Geek Squad, and the fact that my computer came back more damaged that when it had gone in to be serviced.
Now normally Barton and I work quite well together, and frequently we will vacillate between our projects. Our desks sit side by side, and so we naturally become each other’s dictionaries and thesauruses, discussing different angles and words to use for a newsletter or marketing campaign.
While we were waiting on Barton’s computer to return, the blend between work and home meshed into discussions of priority and shifting time slots on my computer. Not only that, but Barton is unfamiliar to a Mac, and just even finding a file became a laborious project. Since we are both writers with on-going projects, this turned into a computer tug-of-war. It was not pretty, let me tell you.
Knowing that Barton had several important reports with final deadlines, I delayed some of my projects and assisted typing for him. I fully admit that my frustration boiled over when we had scheduled time to work on one of my projects and Barton was late getting home. We’ve had quite a balancing act.
We are slowly getting back into synch, recovering from our trip to the de-computerized zone.
Tags: Barton Cutter, disability, disability and marriage, disability and relationships, Work, writing
But… there are only twenty-four hours in the day. Something doesn’t add up here. And yet, in the midst of our mad attempts to complete the work, we both have found ourselves pounding our heads against the wall, determined to make things work.
So much in the past three weeks has centered around gaps in communication that have added to the stress of overcoming the temporary lack of resources since my computer crashed. As it turns out, computer juggling is not for the faint-hearted. As soon as one of us found our writing flow, we ran out of time and the other needed to begin their work.
Two days ago, when I anxiously awaited a phone call from the staff at Best Buy, I was hopeful that I would hear how they were able to fix my computer or at least put the old hard drive into a new machine of the same type, but alas, the old computer had already been scrapped. They did inform me, however, that because it was still under warranty, that I could get a brand new one. So, yesterday I brought home a new computer, which in fact is a vast improvement over the other one. So, I’m back in business. Just a few more steps to reinstall programs and reload my files from backup. And I’m ready to roll.
Tags: Barton Cutter, daily living, disability, disability and marriage, disability and relationships
How many of you wake up better to a radio alarm clock than some annoying buzzer that somehow blends into your dream in such a way that makes perfect sense to you at the time? If you’re like me, radio alarms always work better as there’s nothing better than another human voice to bring you back from whatever adventures you had taken the night before.
I think this is why morning talk shows are so popular, yet have you ever noticed that much of the conversation on those shows are absolutely pointless, requiring absolutely no mental power to comprehend what’s going on? The producers obviously recognize that no one in their right mind will actually be paying keen attention to these conversations so early in the morning.
But 7:30am on a Sunday morning, when Megan comes across a question for me about where the comma belongs in an article she’s working on or ask me to list my entire schedule for the coming week, I have to somehow muster the brainpower as well as the muscle control to formulate and express an intelligible response before opening an eyelid.
I’m not saying that I would be unresponsive should an emergency arise, yet, at 7:30 on a Sunday morning when there are no situations that need to be dealt with immediately, I have no answers to these pressing questions. Such occurrences happen regularly in our household, and I have become increasingly entertained by them over the past months. Yet, none of these incidents were more entertaining than last week’s.
A few days prior, I had mentioned to Megan that perhaps the early mornings on a relaxing weekend are not the best time to ask me about such matters. So when Megan appeared with her laptop in hand, coiling cross-legged on her side of the bed and began with the infamous “So, what do think…” an amused smirk came across my face as I heard her question crack with a tinge of laughter.
She tried vehemently to get her question out, but every time she tried, she just broke down in laughter listening to herself doing the very thing that she once insisted that she could not possibly do.
As my eyes opened, I could do nothing but join her in her laughter, for I finally heard an alarm that was music to my ears.
Tags: daily living, disability, disability and marriage, disability and relationships, Megan Cutter
Last weekend, I was on my usual pattern of waking up early and getting up to get some work done before helping Barton get up. On the weekends, I try to let him sleep in, but this particular Sunday, I just couldn’t help myself.
As the dogs jumped on him to lick his face, Barton’s usual wake-up call, I was going a hundred miles a minute (and I hadn’t even had coffee yet). Stopping to listen to myself rattle off ideas and questions, I broke into a smile, and as I rattled on, I couldn’t help but laugh.
I get up early for several reasons. Part of it is because right now we don’t have help for Barton in the morning, and part of it is because it’s the most productive part of my day. Some of it is inherited, as my father will get up long before my stepmother. The writing flow just comes, and I have to pick up my pen.
So, I’ll wake up at four am and write for several hours before getting Barton out of bed. It’s also common for me to get into work mode, write emails, sort through projects and get writing deadlines out of the way. I’ll also take care of house duties early in the morning, too, but I think this is more because I’ll get interrupted at any other point during the day. Barton doesn’t realize that by the time I get him up, I’ve planned the entire day of who is going where, how we are getting there and what we need for both of us during the day.
On the other hand, Barton does not wake up bright-eyed. Instead, it takes him a full half and hour to even open his eyes all the way, and don’t try talking to him before then either, because you won’t get any response.
The main consequence to this morning schedule is Barton’s ears because I am in full work, writing or project mode by the time I get him out of bed.
Since I heard myself rattling off projects, ideas and lists of things to do, I have worked on being more conscious about not overwhelming Barton before he gets out of bed… but you’ll have to talk to Barton to see if that’s actually the truth.