I was too young to be part of the 60's Hippy (or Hippie) Movement. I was still in high school as we were pulling out of Vietnam. The concerns then were getting the troops home alive or in body bags or out of POW camps. I had a POW bracelet which was actually for an MIA soldier. Sadly, I do not recall his whole name (Richard something) or know if he ever made it home. I was a teenager and it was a trendy thing, although I really did pray specifically for my soldier's safe return.

I also watched in disillusionment as people treated returning soldiers badly. I mean, they answered their country's call to action, by choice or by draft. Whether the action is right or not, the soldiers should be honored. I'm glad we seem to have straightened out that concept. Fight the principles or the politics if you feel you should, but not the front line people executing it, whether for duty or responsibility or by obligation.

This is an example of my strange synaptic connections. I intended to blog about my hip. I was looking for an angle, a light-hearted angle actually. When I went to my internal catalog, I got to 'hip' and found the physical hip and the slang for cool and then slid into 'hippy' which took me to the origin of that term and so on.

Now that I have wildly digressed...
My hip is my biggest point of concern right now. About a week ago, both hips were aching a bit. As previously mentioned here, I was having increasing trouble standing up and walking. Now it's all in my right hip and there are still no clues as to why I'm having this trouble. I went to LC yesterday to get my 5FU pump unhooked and then to the hospital to have those xrays done. I won't hear the results until sometime next week.

I'm almost finished with the course of Diflucan and there's no relief in the hip, so no apparent correlation there. All I know is, I am having a helluva time maneuvering. Sitting is okay, if I get shifted right and change positions now and then. Walking is very slow and measured and hurts some with every step. I still feel like the wrong step could buckle me or a sharp pain could cause me to buckle in response.

After Wednesday's treatment, I went to the mall to find gift(s) for Spouse's upcoming birthday. I had a Dillard's gift card left from Christmas. I wanted to use that because I really hate using his own money to buy him presents. Yeah the card was supposed to be for me, perhaps to clothe my shrinking bod, but I still don't know how shrunken I'm going to get so I'll just stick with my current functional wardrobe for now. It's baggy but the styles (like I have any ;) are pretty much okay that way, so long as they don't fall off.

I currently weigh about what I did in high school, which is still a lot, but I'm down 65 lbs from my max weight. Most of it has been on purpose. During all the treatments and surgeries and such I repeated a 15-20 lb gain/loss/gain/loss about a dozen times. However, I think I'm finally heading more permanently in the direction I want to go. I'd like to lose another 30 (then I have to figure out what to do with all the extra skin! sheesh)

Mercy, how my thoughts meander...
I actually used one of the mall's wheechairs. I managed to walk from the parking lot into the building but I could tell I wasn't going to be able to do more. The borrowed wheelchair was comfortable but basic, not motorized. This mall took great effort to be stroller and wheelchair friendly, but the floor levels shift a lot more than in most places. I had to go up and down a few ramps and some were a bit steep. At one point I was going up a two-tiered ramp and in between I had to stop to rest. My stamina being low and my arms unaccustomed to hauling me, I was pooped.

As I rested, an older woman, a much older woman, perhaps in her 80's, came up behind me and asked if she could help. I was shocked but very grateful, of course. What a strange turn. I am nearly half her age and I was the feeble one. For a moment I did have an interesting flash though. It was like my grandmother had come to my rescue. :)

Shopping from a chair was an interesting experience. I only caught a glimpse of what disabled people must go through. It wasn't terrible, but very awkward. You have to plan your routes in and out of close racks and displays. Plus, you can't scan the merchandise as you can when standing and overlooking a department. I found myself having to go out to the aisle, take as best a scan as I could get from there, then go back in with a little mental map in my head, hoping to find the rack(s) I thought I needed.

People's reactions were varied. Most shoppers went on about their business as if they hadn't noticed me. All the clerks were very friendly and smiling, as they might be with anyone, but I got the distinct impression that they were hovering so they could bring me anything I wanted to see without my having to fetch it myself. It occurred to me that nearly all reactions would be keyed by my demeanor. If I felt paranoid or had some chip on my shoulder, I'd radiate that and I'm sure people would react to it. If I was comfortable with myself in the chair, which oddly I soon was, then they treated me like anyone else shopping, except more at the ready to help if asked, I'm sure.

I used a scooter at Target one day too. The hip wasn't troubling me then, but I was too exhausted and weak to walk the place, especially since I'm unfamiliar with it and knew I'd have to do some scouting. The scooter was s l o w but easy enough to maneuver. Again, some aisles are just too narrow, even with only another body shopping there. So, I had to devise less direct routes now and then. Still, the scooter was a very useful thing and I simply could not have completed my errand without it.

I felt a little funny in both cases at first. I mean, I look perfectly healthy and I walked in on my own steam, but the truth is I did need the help and that's why the chairs and scooters are provided. I'm thankful for the provision, for me and for anyone else who needs such assistance, temporarily or permanently.

There we go... from Hippies and Vietnam to accessibility for the disabled. Come to think of it, there is a more direct connection. I mean, so many came back from Vietnam with disabilities.

Ah, nothing like wrapping up an odd package with a neat bow, eh? phht

I’m fixing a hole where the rain gets in
And stops my mind from wandering
Where it will go-oh...
I’m filling in the cracks that ran through the door
And kept my mind from wandering
Where it will go-oh...
And it really doesn’t matter if I’m wrong or right
Where I belong I’m right
Where I belong...