Yes, I do refer to myself as a cripple occasionally. Although that’s only when I am being reminded by my MS that I’m not normal anymore. Nothing brings that home more than a trip to Costco.
I used to love shopping at warehouse clubs. I mean, if you’re a true blue shopper, how can you not love it? You never know exactly what you’re going to find (in huge quantities, mostly). It’s also so gratifying to actually be able to buy a just released hardcover book at a reasonable price. If George loses me in Costco, the first place he looks is in the book aisle. He’s always amused, too. I think he’s still trying to get used to a wife who prefers books over expensive clothing.
But these trips are something really different when you have MS. The place is huge, which means lots of walking, and the floors are hard, which means really painful walking after a while. And there’s nowhere to sit down. But we get our medicine there, and a lot of our food, so we have to go at least twice a month.
So I have a few choices. I can let George go by himself and give him a list. But that removes the serendipitous aspect of shopping for me. So that’s no good. I can go and stick it out as long as possible and then go wait in the car. That’s not a lot of fun, either. Or I can use one of their scooters.
I hate using scooters. First of all, I don’t look like I need one. I’m 44 and not (very) overweight. I don’t have any limbs in a cast. So I know everyone’s wondering why I’m sitting in it.
Secondly, of course Lawrence wants to sit in my lap when I’m riding one, which he can’t do, so it turns into a big fight.
And then there’s also the fact that they’re a pain in the ass to maneuver and you’re down so low that you can’t see anything.
Plus, people do not move out of your way. You would think they would, wouldn’t you? But they don’t. It’s the same thing when I use my cane. They see the cane, and instead of stopping or stepping aside, they push past me. I guess they don’t want to be slowed down.
It pisses me off, though. I really feel like smacking them across the shins with the cane. I mean, for crissake, you can’t wait two seconds to let me pass, you asshole?
Okay, I feel better now. But I’m still not using the scooter when we go to Costco. Maybe I’ll bring my cane and trip anyone who tries to push past me.
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