On Sunday

Evan fell up the stairs.

Yeah, I said UP. I used to do it all the time.

He hurt his knee.

Yesterday his knee still hurt and he was crying so I took him to the dr. He had to get an x-ray. So we went to the hospital and he got the x-ray and as we were leaving, the technician said "Are you sure you can make it to the lobby?"

E - Yeah, I just have to limp.
Nurse - I can give you a ride in the wheelchair
E - I'll be ok
Me - Take the ride! (It's what he wanted anyway)

So he got a ride to the lobby and the nurse told my mom she'd wait with us while my mom went to get the car. So after my mom got the car and I was all buckled in she decided she had to go to the bathroom. So I said "Pull up over there so I can smoke."

She pulled up. My walker was already in the trunk. My mother had put it there because she's soooooooo concerned with appearances that after Evan was wheeled out she didn't think it would "look good" if he had to put the walker in the trunk.

So I hobbled over to the newspaper machines fine. About 20 feet. But it took her for fucking ever to come back. The whole time I'm standing there, my legs are shaking and shit. Plus I'd gotten tired walking around in the hospital. So after another 5 minutes of her sitting there in the car I was finally able to get her attention and motion to her to drive up beside me so I could hobble back to the car.

As I was hobbling back to the car my legs got weaker and weaker. I was practically squatting. I started falling. My mother's screaming "Get her Evan! Catch her! Get her!" which made me bust out laughing and whenever I laugh I lose all control of my legs. So I fell back and was lying on the sidewalk cracking up.

It was 30 degrees yesterday so I had my big michelin man coat on. Everything was cushioned and I didn't get hurt. But I couldn't stop laughing. So my mother gets out of the car and tells me to stop making her laugh because ever since she had surgery 15 years ago or so and they put her bowels back in all twisted around she gets cramps if she laughs too hard.

Then this OLD guy, about 70 years old sees them crowding around me and he decides he's going to help. It was nice, really.

But as with anyone who tries to help without asking me what I need them to do, he was more of a hindrance than a help.

So I said "Just let me scoot to the curb and then you can pull me up."

All this time, Old Dude has his hands on my ribcage very close to my breasts.

So I'm scooting and my mom is dragging my left leg to the curb, which made me crack up more. She's trying not to laugh, which made me laugh more.

I got to the curb and had her grab one hand and Evan grab the other and Old Guy was still feeling me up. On the count of 3 they pulled me up, but Old Guy still had his hands on my dirty pillows.

He didn't let go until I sat in the car.

Perv.

But it was funny as hell!

Afterwards we went to lunch at Western Sizzlin. My mother had told the Old Guy I had MS. Because she was concerned that he would think I was drunk or high having fallen and then cracking up about it. She said "She falls a lot."

Evan said "You get special treatment when you've fallen, everyone wants to help.
I said "I get special treatment all the time when I have the walker. But sometimes it's not good. Like when YOUR NANA jerks open the door that I'm holding and tries to make me fall."

On the way into the restaurant, I had the walker in one hand and I was holding the door open with the other. I ALWAYS get into doors with one hand on the door and one hand on the walker. It works for me. But she thought, like a lot of people do, that I needed someone to hold the door so she jerked it open and I fell into the door. *Sigh*

So anyway, he wore his knee brace to school today. OUTSIDE his clothes. I guess he wants to see if people will carry his books or something.

The moral of this story: When you see a disabled person, ask them what type of help they need, if any, before you take it upon yourself to "help" them.

The moral for me: Even if I feel physically able to do something, use the walker just to avoid being felt up by dirty old men.