Your audio-and-text option:
Listen to Ellen’s story as you read it (below).
The aisles were narrow between rows of crystal placed with precision on fragile glass shelves. Jack walked closely behind Ellen, his hands ready to catch her if she fell or if one of her crutches brushed against a display.
Yes, Ellen imagined shattered Waterford crystal on the floor, too. Just one slip would do it. She knew she probably looked wobbly and tense to others, but she strategically placed each crutch tip away from the displays as she walked carefully through the shop.
Ellen knew she could navigate the shop without incident, but, to someone without her particular type of cerebral palsy, the situation looked indeed precarious.
“Somebody like me doesn’t belong in a shop like this,” Ellen finally whispered to Jack.
Jack chuckled, and Ellen could see relief in his dancing eyes. She then knew Jack was thinking the same thing. It was time to get back out into the street.
All Ellen wanted was a Waterford goblet for her condo back in Maine. When would she get back to Nassau with a fellow traveler and inside a Waterford crystal shop with prices this reasonable?
But the clerk behind the counter kept shooting nervous glances in Ellen’s direction.
“I’ll take that one,” Ellen said without checking the price. She just wanted to get out of the shop without causing any more stress.
To ease the clerk’s concerns, Ellen laid her crutches down in front of the counter while she paid by credit card. She then retrieved her “sticks” to go out the door with her package.
“I’ll carry it,” Jack offered.
“How am I going to get that thing home without breaking it?” Ellen asked Jack once they were on the street.
“Don’t worry about it,” he assured Ellen with a chuckle. “I’ll take care of it.”
It was 1981, and Ellen was impressed by Jack’s selling savvy. Ellen was one of twelve prospective buyers Jack was escorting to New Providence Island to look at a new condo development available under a time-share arrangement.
Ellen knew Jack had read her right. She was a high-potential prospect: a single woman with a solid job who needed an escape from the pressures of work. Ellen was 39 (about Jack’s age), had crutches, but knew how to travel.
“You’re a gambler,” Jack joshed later, when Ellen bought a single bedroom, ocean-side unit for the first week in February. Ellen bought the time-share week on a chance she would have a friend or a companion to accompany her within the next 10 months.
That convoluted rationale made sense to Ellen.
After all, she would often tell herself, every day presents choices. It’s always tempting to play it safe, stay home, and gradually mummify.
Yet, since childhood, Ellen had learned to go out into the world and risk rejection, harassment, or failure that could ultimately eat away at her self-esteem.
Why? There was also always an outside chance she could meet a snippet of acceptance, regard, or success to encourage her to go even further.
Either way, Ellen, now 80, is always surprised by what each day can bring.
At birth, she was dealt a handful of cards that didn’t add up to much at the time. Her mother had rickets as a child, which likely contributed to birth complications. Her mother’s doctor didn’t realize she couldn’t have natural childbirth due to the rickets. A C-section should have been done right away, but trying natural childbirth caused Ellen’s brain injury.
The family minister, a jack-of-all trades who was interested in medicine, recognized Ellen’s vulnerability and recommended the doctor do a spinal tap on the new child. The spinal tap released the pressure on Ellen’s brain and prevented further damage.
The spinal tap saved her. Further brain injury could have left her deaf, speechless, spastic beyond any control, or mentally disabled.
Ellen’s luck of the draw was an unusual combination of muscles that are, in some cases, too relaxed and, in other instances, too rigid; a set of motor skills that are severely affected but not too limiting; and a degree of intelligence that was not touched by her birth injury. The chances of developing a somewhat normal life were slim, possible but not probable.
By the way, she kept the timeshare in Nassau until 1985 and used it as a relaxing getaway each year with colleagues from work. But then she met Tom, who also has cerebral palsy. They eventually married, decided to build an accessible home, and sold the Nassau unit.
Ellen still agrees with Jack more than 40 years later. Yes, she’s always been willing to test probability and accept setbacks when luck doesn’t win. She just needs to test her limits to see how far she can go.
As a result, over decades, Ellen’s life goal has evolved into this: Show others that the opportunity to sometimes beat slim chances can provide a compelling reason for making each day count.
Here’s to mature-adult living!
Jim Hasse, ABC, GCDF retired, author of “52 Shades of Graying”
Weekly Stories About Aging Well
Accolade: “I resonated with your story!" - Kathleen M.
How to use “My Latest Legacy Nugget” resources to share
your “52 Shades of Graying” comment with a family member or friend.
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - birthday
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - graduation day
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - holiday greeting
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - special day
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - wedding anniversary
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - wedding day
See all past issues of “52 Shades of Graying.”
See all past chats of “52 Shades of Levity.”
Check guidelines for your “52 Shades of Graying” Discussion Group.
When I was nine, I was already walking like a 90-year-old man.
I’ve had eight decades to adjust to the fact that walking is always tentative for me due to my cerebral palsy.
That’s always been my reality.
But, what about the otherwise healthy woman who suddenly, at 75, has a stroke and finds she needs a walker to get around? How does she adjust to that new reality? How does she let her grandkids know what feeling vulnerable has taught her about life and living -- tidbits she now wants to share with them?
I’m surprised. Very few people outside of academic circles are addressing this "aging-plus-disability" issue. But the "2.0 older adults" in America want to learn how to handle limitations effectively because 26 percent of them who are over 65 years old have acquired some form of disability.
That’s why I’m using my experience with disability to help my fellow mature adults adjust psychologically, emotionally, intellectually and spiritually to vulnerability -- and share their stories with family and friends.
* What drives you to make the most of each day now that you are an elder?