I now have my own wheelchair. My knees have finally gotten the best of me and in order live life I bought a wheelchair. Previously I'd used a walker in the house and a cane outside. Then last fall I realized that if I was going to attend school functions for my daughter or take in a movie with her, I'd have to hoist my extra large seat sized walker into the back of the van. Sometime after the start of the new year I found myself giving up and staying in and down--as in not moving around the house much and feeling down. By the time March rolled around my pain level had increased, my legs were weak, and I was spending much of the day on my bed because of its height from the floor. It was easier to stand from a sitting position. I don't quite know what happened after that but I do know that the last time I was able to pull myself up into the van was early in March.

Caring for Amy, my 21 year old daughter with cerebral pasly, became excruciatingly painful and a near impossibility. While transfering her from her wheelchair to bed or her recliner I had to sit and rest every few minutes. I moaned and groaned and cried and cursed making life for poor Amy what it should not be. I stopped cooking meals because I could no bear to stand long enough to cook and prepare and clean up. Life stopped even tho it went on.

Then I did what I should have done months, maybe years earlier. I got some help. I got a list of people from a local advocacy center for the disabled, ironically the place that amy volunteers/works twice a week. The list had names of people looking for work as a personal assistant for people who need assistance in daily living due to illness or disability. I knew that the service was out there for us to use but did not want to take the time to make the call, interview the people, figure out exactly how and when to use these services, etc.

My excuse for not looking for help from this list was from a couple of years ago when I attempted to find some help. Someone answered my call and told me that the person I was calling was "back on the street again" and did not know how to reach her. Somehow that discouraged me from looking further worried that I was taking a chance I wasn't up for in letting a stranger come into my home to care for Amy.