“Your leg is healing well,” the surgeon said yesterday. “I’m writing you a prescription for a temporary prosthesis.”
Fireworks started going off inside me and my heart began to sing: “I’m gettin’ a le-eg! I’m gettin’ a le-eg!”
I managed to restrain myself from whipping out my cell phone right then and there to make an appointment with the prosthetist, but as soon as I got into the car I jumped right on it. The company, which is based in Indianapolis, has a satellite location in Terre Haute, but it’s only open on Tuesday and Thursday. The person I want is only here on Tuesday. If I had missed today, I’d have to wait another week. I have things to do.
One of those things is to go to the bathroom. Yes, I’m off on my inaccessible accessible bathroom rant again. This week, it was in a medical building, of all places.
It was for my endocrinologist’s appointment and I actually got there in time to settle in. No, he was running late. One of the two. Or both. Anyway, I decided to go to the bathroom, so I scooted off to the bathroom in the clinic.
Now, I kind of taught myself to back my scooter up beside the pot and scoot over. It’s the only way I know how, and the only way that doesn’t conjure up visions of me sprawled on the floor, wedged between the toilet and my scooter. All that is to say the bathroom in the clinic had a sink next to the pot. No luck there.
So I tried the public bathroom in the hallway. There was room (barely) inside the handicapped stall to back up beside the pot, but no room inside the stall to maneuver my scooter into position.
And then the doc wanted me to have a lab test that required a sample. I just laughed.
While I’m on the endo’s office, I will tell you that we spent ages dealing with my basal rates and I actually did pretty well. For a couple of days. And now I’m back to the hypoglycemia. But I will lower my basal rates some more.
Oh. And my HbA1c is 5.9%. No, I don’t know how I did it. I do know I was low a lot, so I don’t know that a 5.9% is good for me.
The incident in the endo’s office came a few days after a visit to the Indiana State Museum to see the Titanic exhibit. I could only find one raised toilet in the whole building.
This was also the place with the inaccessible accessible parking spaces. How’s that? Well, you paint blue lines near the doorway, but you don’t paint the little stripes in between the parking spaces so people who use wheelchairs and scooters have room to get in and out of their vehicles.
My scooter, for example, travels in the back of the van or the trunk of my car. It can be assembled behind the vehicle, but I can’t walk to the back of the van/car to get to it. I also can’t walk from the scooter back to the van/car when it’s time to leave.
My tax dollars at work. I love it.
It was the same way at The Children’s Museum of Indianapolis: Spaces marked off for handicapped parking with no spacing in between.
Who determines the rules for these things anyway? And do they need a consultant?
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