The other day my wife pointed out something I hadn’t realized: we just had our first real vacation since before my stroke. That was two and a half years ago.
We’ve had a holiday trip to see the kids with plenty of rest time built in for me and we had been to Vermont but that was for my brothers memorial.
This was the first time we had gone away and done vacation type things in almost three years and it was fun! But…we had to adjust. And probably most importantly, I had to change and accept a new way of doing things.
We built in rest time and I had to accept that I needed a wheel chair.
I’ve mentioned before how they have an air show every year at the Naval Air Station that my son is stationed at. We’ve never gone before so we decided to make it happen this year. Doug said, “You’re going to want your wheelchair dad because it’s a lot of walking.”
I don’t like my wheelchair, I never have. I feel like, when I’m in it, it makes it obvious that something’s wrong with me. My rational mind knows better but that’s just the way I feel.
But, I agreed.
My daughter Sarah tells me that the reason Priscilla bought the wheelchair was so we could still do things. Sarah has told me that when I had my stroke, Priscilla felt cheated that now that the kids were grown, we were suppose to do things just for us and now that was being taken away.
So she bought the chair and I fought it all the way. Until now. I finally realized that I can still do things, but sometimes I need help.
About a week ago we left Massachusetts for Virginia. It’s a 10 and a half hour drive on a good day. We made it in about 11. The next day was a Wednesday, a rest day. We went down to the Oceanfront while the kids were at work. Doug, his wife Marla and my son-in-law Steven are all in the Navy at Virginia Beach and my daughter Sarah is in banking.
Thursday we went to the Darius Rucker and Lady Antebellum concert with me in the chair. The kids go to many concerts at the Veterans United Home Loans Amphitheater at Virginia Beach. It’s about two miles from their houses and the tickets prices are much lower than in New England. They usually get lawn seats but my days of standing or sitting on the lawn are long gone. We bought tickets in the handicapped seating and they wheeled me right in. I was the star of the night because I got preferred parking with my seat. We got in and out much faster than they ever have.
I admit we had a great time.
The next day was a rest day. I slept late then we went to lunch and poked around a book store.
Saturday brought the air show and the Blue Angels. It was just as amazing as you’d think it would be and Doug was right: there was a lot of walking. I was one of many people in wheelchairs that day enjoying the show and the military display.
We were on the flight line from 10AM until the Blue Angels ended around 4:30PM.
The next day I slept until noon. That was a Sunday so for the Braley family in the fall, that means football and food. I had my rest day on the couch.
On Monday the kids went back to work and Priscilla and I did some shopping and spent the rest of the week doing some “touristy” things and going out to eat.
We even went to an Aviation Museum that had aircraft from World War I and WW 2. Again, there was a lot of walking so I brought the chair.
I’m not writing this because I think you’d want to read my vacation “diary.” (“Come on over to see my pictures! I’ll make a coffee cake!”) I’m writing this in case you are or know someone who is stubborn like I was. I didn’t want to be seen in my wheelchair because I didn’t want to admit that I need help. I didn’t go out and do things because it would make me tired.
I learned. It took me awhile, but I learned.
I can still do things but I need to build in that rest time. And it’s okay to need a wheelchair. Most people are very helpful when it comes to holding doors and making room.
One sidebar here: at the concert my daughter Sarah wheeled me towards the men’s room at one point. I was going to have her wait outside while I walked in. A man we had never met before asked her, “Does he need help?” Southern hospitality.
I now realize that people aren’t looking at you because they feel sorry for you. They’re actually so busy in their own world they hardly see you.
I like to think that if they do look at you, they’re happy that you’re out and about and not letting this inconvenience stop you.
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