Disabled Chronicles, No.3765:
That one time, you make it home before everyone else and you have to let yourself in but your automatic door opener has been busted for over a year and coming by $1500 to get a new one is next to impossible. So you head to the back door, since that door knob is a lot lower and somewhat easier for you to open on your own, even though it will take you 75 minutes (give or take some cursing and gnashing of teeth) to open by yourself but you gotta do it cause being 41 and standing by the front door, looking like a forgotten latch-key kid is not cute.
So you steel yourself for the impending fight with the back door as you hedge around your ‘neighbors’ obnoxious over-grown-into-your-side-yard vegetal yard partition, squinting your eyes from the barbed leaves so as to not lose your good eye so you won’t have to be referred to as ‘That Girl Who Is Blind In One Eye AND In A Wheelchair’.
Absently thinking how pissed you are for this door situation having to be an issue in the first place, you take the uneven terrain with too much speed but realize once you hit the unseen bump that you better pump your damn brakes before you kill yourself back here where no one will know. So you ease up, still pissed, forgetting that you actually HAVE to put some speed into going over that pseudo-ditch before having your bald-assed tired chair take that ramp made of grass and misfortune to the concrete back patio before you can consider yourself safe.
But alas, all your pisstivity has made you miscalculate and you feel the familiar, stomach dropping soft crunch of your back tires gripping into the soft dirt. Still thinking you can save yourself, you abruptly stop, only for you to knock yourself out of balance and your head goes careening back, pulling your weak-core muscled body with it. You find yourself looking up at the sky, fully un-abled to right yourself. Yet being ever the optimist, you think that there is indeed hope yet to save yo’ damn ass, so you put your chair in reverse, praying to undo the damage but instead, feel your anti-tippers bite into the soft traitorous dirt even more, at which point you scream out ‘FUCK ME BRO’ to the sky?
Eyes wide open in terror of a bird, mistaking your pale fleshy throat for supper, you try to assess your situation and realize that the only thing left you is to call for help, then realize you can’t lift your head to see the dial pad on your phone, so your spirits sink. But being the smart cookie that you are, you remember you didn’t pay top dollar for no pansy-ass phone but for a Boss® iPhone with Siri activated and you press the home button and blurt out to Siri to ‘CALL MY SISTER!’, and like an obedient bot she listens to you (unlike bitch-ass Alexa >.>) and dials up your Sister.
You calmly try to explain that you are at natures’ mercy STUCK IN A MOFO DITCH in y’alls backyard. To which she calmly sighs and advises you that she is at Walmart but she is now on her way. Thankful to have alerted someone to your peril, you take a breath as you watch the clouds roll by and wonder what lesson the Universe is trying to teach you in this situation. But before you have time to get all zen and philosophical with your current situation and all the decisions that brought you to this exact moment in your life: rain.
You feel the cool prick of rain droplets on your face, refocus your eyes on the malevolent clouds and hurl really, really bad words at them. So you try to calm yourself down before you go into full on panic at the thought of the heathenish heavens opening a deluge upon your upturned face and into your wide-the-fuck-open nostrils… breathe… breathe. And you try to think of all the positives in your current state of sure death, yet instead of being calmed by the positives, your heart rate starts to pick up and your mind just says Fucketh all Thateth – CALL YOUR SISTER!
So you do and the first thing she says is, ‘I know, rain. We’re on our way.’ And you feel a bit better and ask her to stay on the line with you cause you’re about to freak the fuck out. But you’re worried about her getting a ticket so you tell her to take the side streets cause you’re a caring Older Sister and don’t want her to have issues because of your fuckery but your mind is still like – FUCKETH ALL THATETH AND HALP ME!
And before you know it, you hear her car pull into the driveway and hear her tell Nephew to ‘Go rescue your Auntie from the yard, I’ll get the stuff from the car.’ And never before in your life have you been ever so glad to be rescued by a big, tall, awkward, moody, teenager in all your life like you are now?
No, never happened to you?
#IAlmostDIED #YallAlmostLostMe #NatureIsCruel #ICantMakeThisShitUp
#TheseDisabledStreetsAreTREACHEROUS #WhyDoIHaveADitchletInMyYard #WheresAAAWhenYouNeedThem #SisterAndNephewToTheRescue #DisabledChronicles #TrueStoriesOf2017
P.S. Subsequently, because of this post, a good friend decided to open a Go Fund Me to help to keep this from happening to me again. So feel good twice – laugh with this post and pitch in to help get that door opener in my life <3-S