Words From The Wheelchair

Bride and Groom Dolls

Joan — Sun, 21 Sep 2008 19:14:58 +0000

I made these dolls almost five years ago for my daughters wedding. They are created out of felt and embellished with various trimmings. I’m especially pleased with the hair, which was made of strips of fringed felt and then coiled. These (and the other embellishments) are sewed to the main doll body.

A close up of the face, which has button eyes and a lovely tulle veil:

A close up of the groom:

I learn to use my camera 5 years after I bought it!

Joan — Sun, 21 Sep 2008 18:52:28 +0000

I wanted to do a post illustrating some of the greeting cards I have been working on. Making the cards was easy when compared to getting a decent photo of one. I took pictures for days and none came out the way I wanted them too. Finally I did a startingly original thing and looked up the manual for the camera on the web. I of course had lost mine many years ago, and had never really read it anyway. By actually following directions ( a novel idea for me) I was able to take some pictures. I won’t say they are great, but certainly better than earlier ones. My hand tremors don’t help things.

: Dragon card series

This is a colored pencil card.

Here is a card that is embellished with buttons and fabric trimming:

I also like to do quilling and find it makes a really special card. However, use caution when mailing. Bubble wrap or a padded envelope works well. It’s worth the extra cost because otherwise your creation might not make it to its destination intact. Here are a few examples below:

With the cost of cards today if you can use glue and scissors you can make a variety of cards out of just colored papers and scraps that people will treasure!

My legs might not work, but my brain does.

Joan — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 01:04:56 +0000

I should be used to this by now, but every once in awhile it gets to me. When I am out in public with another person and the clerk asks them what I want, I have become used to it. I usually respond with “I can speak for myself”. However when it’s a friend who I have known for more than 40 years (crippled and not) I find it strange. This person knows that I live alone, drive a car, shop for myself etc. I do have help to clean the house, but I was never very good at that.

The first time we went some place, we met at the event. I have a van with a wheelchair ramp that comes out on one side. I am the expert on which side, how much room I will need, know to make sure there is a curb cut, and how not to get blocked in by another car. When I arrive somewhere I scout these things out. However it is difficult when there is a woman waving her arms and yelling words I cannot hear. I decided the best course of action was to ignore her as I already had spotted a space. After she dashed across two streets and a sidewalk I stopped. She insisted she had found a spot for me. I demurred, she insisted. I went to the spot, and of course it wasn’t wide enough. By now the other spot was taken and by the time I found a space and went inside the event had started. Inside it got worse. I was told I was going too fast, getting in peoples way, and the best was- she almost climbed over me to get to the handicapped bathroom stall to announce it was being used. I tried to explain that I did all these things myself usually, and I actually probably knew better than she how to get around in a wheelchair. I tried to be kind, but I know she was hurt.

Months later I tried to give it another go. Sadly it didn’t work. She kept telling me where to park (even though they were spots I couldn’t use), wanted to order food for me, wanted to carry food for me even though she had a neck collar on and was carrying something. She would run ahead to see if there was room for my wheelchair, or if she thought the ground was okay etcetera. Now I have used a wheelchair mostly for over five years. I know exactly how much space it takes, what kind of ground it can go over, and what I can and cannot do (mostly everything). I have explained too many times. I guess this is a friend I can no longer go places with.

WHEN IT’S CLOSE TO HOME

Joan — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 18:07:52 +0000

I am a news junkie, and a liberal Every once in awhile I find myself getting depressed over the things I read. Article after article about peoples’ inhumanity and prejudice towards each other, our current administrations’ lies, manipulations, and damage to our Constitution. Mothers and fathers doing unspeakable things to their children, and people who can keep a grudge against others through hundreds of years. Well you get the picture. My usual cure is to stop reading the newspaper for awhile until I get my equilibrium back. Then something happened that was real, not in the newspaper, and unsolvable although I and some others tried.

Several weeks ago a friend found out that she and her husband and children were being deported after living here legally under political asylum for many years. They came when her children were toddlers, so the kids have no recollection of their homeland. She hired a lawyer who charged her $2000.00 to tell her that nothing could be done after sitting through a court date with her. Her husband, their main support, had to leave in two days. The judge told her that he would be kind and give her several weeks to sell their house, and totally rearrange their lives. The reason they were being deported? The immigration judge said that he thought it was probably safe now for them to go home. It isn’t. The only reason that this happened, we finally decided, was that several months ago she applied for passports for her children. It must have caught someones eye. Last week she had another appointment at immigration. When she arrived they asked to see their plane tickets and the kids passports. Her reply that no one had told her to bring them, and how was she supposed to find almost $3000.00 for the tickets since her husband was no longer working caused a great stir. After waiting almost four hours in an office the bureauocrat returned in triumph. She, it seems, had been off trying to find the person to blame for not sending my friend the message about bringing the plane tickets. So why did she have to wait? Now she has been told that she is very lucky and doesn’t have to leave until the second week in September.

Meanwhile her husband is in Columbia trying to get political asylum in Canada. Why did they get it in the first place? They were both in the police and helped the USA during the drug wars in the 90′s. She doesn’t understand the word Indian Giver, but I do. I am ashamed of my government, and not reading the paper for awhile won’t cure this.