If you met me, you might be surprised to learn that I am disabled, or more aptly, mobility challenged. You might not notice my dislocated fingers, the lack of flexion in my wrists which were once described as concrete-like. Thanks to a very skilled surgeon, my feet actually look quite normal, but don’t try to bend my toes. They are fused. I’m lopsided, a result of my second hip replacement. Who knows, maybe with the upcoming revision, I’ll be back to being right-sided. I am branded, or as my hairdresser says; I have permanent logos which are the results of orthopedic surgeries.
I get around. I focus on walking as well as I can. I believe in mind/body work and know that it has helped me enormously. I think that without my ongoing work, I would be in much worse condition.
In spite of all of this, I am one of the Walking Disabled, a term I use to describe those of us, who at first glance, seem normally able-bodied. When we ask for help to open a bottle of water or lift something out of the car or pick something off the floor, we don’t do it lightly. We ask because we have trouble doing it ourselves.
This blog is devoted to providing as many D.I.Y. tips as possible, so that you don’t have to ask, yet again.
The greatest gifts you can give your children are the roots of responsibility and the wings of independence. ~ Vellupillai Pirapakaran
I am grateful to my parents who did the best they could to ensure that I got this gift; I do the best that I can to honour this gift and adapt it with my twisted roots and somewhat bent wings.