Summer Cruise 2017 – Part 2 – Accessibility Challenges Don't Phase Us

If I had known the wheelchair accessibility shortcomings of the Celebrity Summit, I would not have booked it for a cruise. That would have been unfortunate, however, because we had a great time.

This was our third cruise. We found cruises #1 and #2 to be the most wheelchair accessible vacations we had ever been on. But those were larger and newer ships. So, although we were disappointed with the accessibility of the Summit, we weren’t surprised.

Before I delve into the deficiencies, it’s important to note that one of the primary reasons we chose this cruise itinerary was because it ran out of Bayonne, New Jersey. This meant we didn’t have to fly, which was, itself, an accessibility benefit.

Here are some of the challenges we faced:

No automatic door openers. Unlike the other ships, this one had no open buttons for cabin, cabin bathroom, public restrooms, or toilet stalls within public restrooms. I couldn’t get into or out of our cabin without Kim’s assistance. I couldn’t use the public restrooms without Kim’s assistance.

Tall and uneven thresholds all over the ship. I have a stud installed in the bottom of my wheelchair which couples with a receiver on the floor of my wheelchair van, safely locking me in place. I’ve had this for several months now, and it never bothered me until this trip. As I moved about the ship on that first day, this protrusion became caught up on many of the thresholds.

We called the maintenance department on the ship to help us come up with a solution. After surveying the situation, the maintenance man decided that the stud could be unscrewed, but he asked us to sign a waiver in case he broke something. We signed it. After removing the stud, I still found the thresholds jarring but no longer inaccessible.

Tender boats were not wheelchair accessible. We visited seven different ports. Five of them had docks, but at two ports, Bar Harbor and Newport, the ship had to anchor offshore. Small tender boats were employed to shuttle passengers back and forth between the ship and shore. On my previous cruises, the transition from ship to tender was wheelchair accessible. On the Summit, this was not the case. There were about five steps down into the tender boat.

On the second day of the cruise, Kim and I packed a bag to spend the day on Bar Harbor. We headed down to the deck where people were boarding tender boats. When we arrived at the debarkation point, Kim scoped out the situation and saw the steps. The crew expressed their regrets that the tender was not wheelchair accessible, and I wouldn’t be able to go into Bar Harbor. I explained to them that the iBOT, which I was sitting in at the time, could indeed climb stairs, and so I intended to go to shore.

“We will first have to check with our safety officer,” they explained.

“Fair enough,” I replied. “Let your safety officer know that I’m willing to sign a waiver.”

We decided to eat breakfast and check back later to hear the safety officer’s decision. We went to the breakfast buffet on the 10^th floor, filled our plates with tasty morsels, and sat on an outside deck, where we were afforded an amazing view of Bar Harbor.

We had visited this tourist mecca so many times in our lives, but we had never seen the view from this perspective. There were two other large cruise liners in town, and we knew things would be crazy. We soon lost our interest in fighting the crowds in Bar Harbor and decided we would spend the day on the relatively empty ship. By the time we returned to the debarkation station to let them know that we were no longer interested, the crew had changed over, and nobody knew what we are talking about.

A few days later, in Newport, Rhode Island, we gladly stayed on the ship and enjoyed its amenities.

These accessibility disappointments detracted from our enjoyment but didn’t ruin the vacation for us. I’ll consider this a lesson learned and avoid older and smaller cruise ships in the future. In my next blog post, I’ll focus on some of the positives about this vacation, of which there were many.

click here for part 3
click here for Part 1

2017 Disabled Cruising Again – Part 1

Do not adjust your computer/tablet/phone. You read that correctly. For the second time this year we are cruisin’.

In February, accompanied by my brothers and their wives, Kim and I sailed throughout the Caribbean for seven nights aboard the Celebrity Silhouette. Beginning this week, Kim and I will be sailing by ourselves (along with a few thousand other people) for ten nights on the Celebrity Summit.

We depart from Cape Liberty, New Jersey, which is just across the river from New York City. Note that our fourth stop is Portland, Maine. The terminal is walking distance from our house. I proposed to Kim that she could take advantage of that stop to go home and do a load of laundry. My suggestion was not well received. I can’t figure that woman out.

Anyway, perhaps something interesting will happen on this trip and I will blog about it. Stay tuned.

click here for Part 2

The Yin and Yang of MS

I am dependent but not helpless.
I am left behind, but I enjoy time alone.
I am fragile but not weak.
I am embarrassed but not ashamed.
I am disabled, but I'm not hungry, wet, cold, or abused.

I don't walk in the woods, but I still sit by the ocean.
I don't sleep well at night, so I can't stay awake during the day.
I don't travel as much, but people come to me.
I don't work, but I remain relevant.
I don't walk, run, swim, or bike, but I still breathe, swallow, see, and speak.
I don't drive, but I am driven.

I am a born optimist, but I don’t like my chances.
I am a prisoner in this body, but I possess free will.
I am embattled, but I remain content.
I am frightened, but I am loved.
I am frustrated and discouraged, but more often I am amused and intrigued.
I worry about tomorrow, but I live for today.

Eating: A Medical Necessity?

I’ve passed a lot of milestones in my disease progression—cane, crutches, scooter, wheelchair, disability retirement, the involvement of my upper extremities, and more. Recently, I’ve encountered another milestone—feeding myself.

A couple of years ago, Kim began helping me with certain tasks like cutting my steak. Then, with the assistance of my OT Maren and my friend Michael, we devised adapted utensils for me. Those sufficed for quite a while, but not so much anymore. For the past few months, at least half the bites of food I have consumed came from Kim’s hand, not mine.

Back in 2008, when it was time for me to graduate from scooter to wheelchair, I stumbled upon the iBOT, and because of its advanced technology, I felt better about the transition. Now that I need assistance in eating, I found some cool devices to lessen the blow as well.

Liftware Level

I bought one of these spoons, and it’s amazing. Check out the video, below, or click here.

I call it my “Harry Potter” spoon. The Liftware Level costs $200 and is not covered by insurance.

Obi

I bought one of these, and it reminds me of the iBOT. While making my life better, it serves as a conversation piece and a crowd pleaser, not simply a piece of medical equipment. It is battery-powered and mobile enough to take with me to most places where I might dine. Check out the video, below, or click here.

Obi it is expensive – $6000. I filed a medical insurance claim, and it was rejected. Apparently, being able to eat is not a medical necessity. I am filing an appeal, but I'm not sending my Obi back, no matter what.

Thanks go out to my occupational therapist, Maren, for introducing me to both products and helping me integrate them into my life.

Closing Thoughts

Losing the ability to take care of myself is frightening, but technology keeps offering solutions, and I love technology. I am aware, however, that many disabled people can’t afford these expensive devices. We need to find ways to make these adaptations available to everyone. 

My Plans for World Domination on World MS Day

Wednesday, May 31, is World MS Day, and I have big plans. Because their readership is so much larger than mine, I’m going to hack into the Living With MS Facebook page operated by Healthline.com and take over their feed for the day. While I have the reins, I will execute my evil plan of engaging readers on a variety of MS topics related to my subtype — primary progressive MS. To initiate the conversations, I’ll share content from Healthline and from my blog, Enjoyingtheride.com. 

Let’s see how much we can learn from one another. Please share this announcement freely, (except with Healthline.com, I don’t want them to see me coming) so that we can connect with as many folks as possible tomorrow. See you then!

When You Have MS, You Can’t Live Without…

A couple of months ago, I received an invitation from Healthline.com to respond to the above prompt. They asked the same question of other MS bloggers. Here is a link to our collective responses.

This is what I wrote:

“With MS, I’ve learned never to say there’s something I can’t live without, because that may be the very thing I lose next. But in the spirit of this question, one thing I would hate to lose would be my voice. I use voice recognition software to write my blog, the book I’m working on, emails, and texts. I use my voice to operate lights, ceiling fans, shades, and televisions. I use my voice to remind my wife that I love her. Given that I’ve already lost all of the function in my legs and much of it in my hands, if I lost my voice, life would become much more difficult.”

I struggled a bit with this assignment. I understand what they were after — describe one aspect of your life that is most important in easing the burden of MS. However, if you take the prompt literally, it asks what aspect of your life you would die without. I spent the last sixteen years ensuring there is nothing in my life that I couldn’t live without, because when you have MS, everything is on the chopping block.

When I was healthy, if you had told me that in the next decade or so I would lose my ability to snowmobile, hunt, golf, type, write, walk, work, or take care of myself in terms of eating, dressing, and grooming, I might’ve fallen into despair.

Indeed, one day I may become overwhelmed and unable to maintain my positivity, but it won’t be the result of losing something I can't live without. It will be that there aren’t enough things to live for, and I’m still a long way from that point.

My New Wheelchair – Permobil F5 VS

Getting a new wheelchair is not like getting a new hairdo, or a new outfit. It’s way beyond that. Getting a new wheelchair isn’t the same as having your bathroom redone or trading in your car. It’s not like getting a new job or taking a new lover (says the guy who married his high school sweetheart). Those pale in comparison. The best analogy I can come up with is that buying a new wheelchair is like buying a house, if you spend all day, every day, in that house. It’s a big, freaking deal.

Medicare, and therefore most private insurance companies, allows a new power wheelchair every five years, so I needed to choose wisely. I did my research. There have been so many changes in the power wheelchair marketplace in five years’ time. When I think back to my mother’s wheelchairs, beginning in 1970, it blows my mind.

For its time, circa 2012, my Invacare TDX SP wheelchair was quite something. It’s now semi-retired, serving as my emergency backup. I still have my iBOT wheelchair, but I use it sparingly because there are no more parts and no more service available.

Let’s take a look at my new wheelchair, a Permobil F5 VS.

Drawbacks

There are a couple of things I like less about this wheelchair compared to my previous one: 

• Because the chair is front-wheel-drive, my turning radius is longer, and so my maneuverability is poorer. 
• This chair weighs about 150 pounds more than the Invacare. In most cases, that’s not an issue, but it can occasionally be. 

Advantages 

• Leg extension control: In my previous chair, I could elevate my feet. But in doing so the foot pedals would impinge on my legs such that my knees would rise up a few inches, and that made for an uncomfortable position. With this chair, the legs can extend while they raise up. Beautiful thing. 
• Elevates 14 inches instead of 8: Yes, size matters. That extra 6 inches allows me to sit comfortably at high-top tables in restaurants and brings me closer to eye level when I find myself among a group of standing individuals. Doesn’t hurt when I try to reach something on a high shelf either. 
• Seatback Recline: In this chair, I can adjust the seatback angle to more comfortable positions, and it even allows me to lean forward for activities like brushing my teeth and eating messy foods. Coupled with raising my legs, this feature allows me to lie flat in the chair as if it were a bed, which I have done more than once already. 
  
• Preset modes: There are many actuators in my chair, and I have individual control of them. But I also have common positions I would like to get to without holding down the actuator buttons until each one is in the right position. For example, when I want to nap or watch television, I can push one button so that my tilt, recline, and leg position all go to a preassigned point. In fact, I have four memory positions, and I can change them anytime I like. Big improvement. 
• Bluetooth for computer and phone: As it gets more difficult for me to control devices like my laptop computer and my cell phone, the more important it is that I can use my wheelchair controls for that purpose. This wheelchair communicates with my computer and phone through Bluetooth. I use the joystick to manipulate the cursor just like I would use a mouse, and I have right and left click buttons that mimic mouse buttons.
•  IR for A/V equipment: I use voice controls for some of my audio/video controls, but not everything, and sometimes voice control is not ideal. Now I can control all of my A/V equipment using my wheelchair. 
• Electronic anterior and posterior tilt: This means I can tilt my seat, as opposed to my seatback, forward or backward. Again, this helps with activities like brushing my teeth and eating messy foods, as well as getting several comfortable, reclined positions. I also make use of a certain anterior tilt memorized position whenever I empty my bladder during the day. I'm practically standing up and peeing again. 
• Cell phone plug-in: In my previous chair, I had a cell phone mount, but in this chair, the cell phone is plugged into the wheelchair battery, and I never worry about charging. Imagine if you had a cell phone you never had to charge. 
• 7.5 mph: My old chair topped out at 5 mph. This one goes 50% faster. That makes a huge difference in the wide open spaces like parking lots and my jaunt to physical therapy twice a week. 
• Standing mode: This is what makes the Permobil F5 VS the Cadillac of the power wheelchair world (I guess that’s a pretty outdated term for high quality, isn’t it?). My iBOT elevates me up on two wheels. My Invacare could elevate me 8 inches. My new chair elevates me, but if I prefer, it also stands me up. I put a padded bar just below my knees and another one across my chest, push a button, and I am standing. It’s a good position to be in for so many activities, but most importantly, by standing a little bit each day, I improve my health—circulation, respiration, digestion, joint health. Standing brings a whole new benefit to physical therapy. Doing my exercises in a standing position allows so much more range of motion. 
  

What I wish it had

I wish I could move along at normal walking speed at full elevate. I understand not allowing normal walking speed, about 3.5 mph, in standing mode, but I think they could allow it in elevate mode. I’m working on them. They’re not budging, yet.

Final Thoughts

In my yet unpublished book, on page 169, I write: 

There is no relationship between human and machine more intimate than that between a wheelchair and its user. The chair serves not only the function of legs, but also couch, recliner, dining room chair, car seat, chaise lounge, dog walker, coat rack, drink holder, getaway vehicle, and shopping cart. It is, therefore, ironic that the customary term for such a condition is confined to a wheelchair, when, in fact, the more accurate term is enabled by a wheelchair. 

Now, knowing what I do, I need a few items to this list. I’ll never finish the damn book.

Thanks go to my occupational therapists, Michele and Maren, my physical therapist, Claudia, my primary care physician, Dr. Freedman, the folks at Black Bear Medical including Don and Wendy, and the team at Permobil led by the incomparable Lisa. Couldn’t have done it without you.

The Art of Peeing in Bed (on Purpose)

As significantly disabled people go, I am the exception. My bladder still works. To take advantage of that, however, requires ingenuity.

During the day, I pee into little containers and empty them into the nearest toilet. Straightforward stuff. But liquids have this unfortunate tendency to flow downhill, and that presents a challenge when I’m lying down in bed.

When it became too difficult for me to sit up in bed and use a container, much like I do in my wheelchair, the difficulties began. For a few years, I had the strength and dexterity to roll over on my side. Once I’m on my side, there’s room for the container, and everything flows downhill. Piece of cake.

As my disease progressed, it became too difficult for me to roll myself over, so I had to wake Kim to assist me. Not straightforward. Not a piece of cake. This interrupted Kim’s sleep, one or two times per night, and it was an imperfect process. She had to roll me over and stick a pillow behind me before I rolled back. Our success rate was less than 100%.

This is where ingenuity came into play. As I searched the internet for a better device for Kim to stick behind me after rolling me over, I happened upon this inflatable pillow:

This product is typically placed between the mattress and box spring, and is used to elevate the head of someone's bed. Here is the description:

The Contour Products Mattress Genie Bed Wedge is an adjustable alternative to foam bed wedges, and an affordable alternative to hospital beds. With just the touch of a button on the hand held remote control, you can raise the head of your bed up to 26" high. When not in use, simply press "flat" and the air bladder will disappear from view, eliminating the issue of storage for a bulky foam bed wedge. 

I began to wonder. What if I turned this pillow lengthwise and laid it underneath one side of my fitted sheet? Because it inflates and deflates rapidly, could it serve the function of rolling me over in bed so I could pee in the middle of the night without Kim’s assistance?

I ordered the device, and we tried it out. It worked—spectacularly. Kim and I both sleep better. I no longer need to dehydrate myself in the evening. I had begun to fear that, although my bladder function is near-normal, I would have to resort to intrusive devices simply because liquids like to flow downhill. Now, I’ve put that thought off for a while longer.

Yes, I realize this example is more evidence of how much simpler men’s lives are than women’s, even in the disabled community.

Although I couldn’t avoid the words pee, bladder, and toilet in this blog post, I didn’t use any unpleasant words like penis, urine, urinal, catheter, or New York  Yankees. You’re welcome.

Disabled Cruising 2017 Part 5: All Good Things…

The last time we flew home from the Caribbean, the airline lost both of my power wheelchairs. That memory, and the knowledge that we had eight wheelchair transfers ahead of us, might have induced a certain dread for the trip home, but it didn’t. We had something working in our favor—first class seats on both flights. Did we spent more of Kim’s eBay earnings on such an indulgence? No. We had paid for coach, but for no apparent reason, they assigned us to first class.

When we have short layovers, like we did on this trip home, we always specify that both wheelchairs be checked through to our destination. But when we arrived in Philadelphia, they brought my Permobil wheelchair up to the mouth of the plane, despite my instructions to the contrary. Kim, Andy, Karen, and I explained that we didn’t have time to reassemble the Permobil, transfer me to it, disassemble it, and get it on the next plane. Per the tags on the wheelchair, it was supposed to be checked straight through to Boston.

“No problem. We’ll get your wheelchair to your next flight.”

I was satisfied. Kim was skeptical.

The airport wheelchair they brought me was rather ancient, but I knew I’d only be in it for a short time.

“Let’s remove the armrest,” I said, “so I can slide from this aisle chair into the airport wheelchair.”

Six people tried to get the armrest off, then one of the airport employees stated the obvious. “The armrests on this wheelchair are not removable.”

“Then let’s remove the leg rests,” I said, “and I’ll slide in the chair from the front.”

Six people tried to get the leg rests off, then one of the airport employees stated the obvious. “The leg rests on this wheelchair are not removable.”

Apparently, I was the first wheelchair user this airport had ever encountered. The only option became lifting me up and into the wheelchair, instead of sliding. Six people each grabbed a piece of me and made it happen. I survived.

When we reached the gate for my Boston flight, they had already begun boarding the plane. In most cases, this would have caused me some consternation, because passengers already seated in the plane would have been able to gawk at me as I boarded. They would see how the sausage is made. But I didn’t mind in this instance because I was in seat 1A. Surrounded by my team of lifters, pullers, and tuggers, nobody would get a good look at the sausage-making other than the guy in 1C.

Soon after we boarded our final leg of the trip, the flight attendants closed the door, and we were ready to go. But we didn’t go. Kim’s instincts had been right. The pilot came on the speaker system and said, “We are all ready to go but are waiting for an electric wheelchair to be loaded into the luggage compartment. Once that is done, we’ll be underway.”

At least 100 people, the front half of the plane who could see me when I boarded, knew damn well whose wheelchair was holding things up.

I expect their reactions broke down this way:

50 of those 100 passengers thought, “How awesome that somebody so disabled is still able to travel. I guess I can wait a few minutes.”

12 passengers thought, “His poor wife…”

10 thought, “Look at his wife, that lucky bastard.”

7 thought, “I can’t believe the pilot just singled him out that way. Very inconsiderate.”

Sadly, 6 passengers thought, “People like him shouldn’t be allowed to fly. He holds up everybody.”

5 thought, “I wonder why he can’t walk.”

4 thought, “How can he afford to be in first class? Must’ve got a big settlement.”

3 thought, “What if he has to pee on the flight? Or worse?”

2 passengers thought, “I wish I was paralyzed so I could quit this damn job.”

And 1 passenger probably thought to herself, “I don’t know if he has MS or something else, but I sure hope my MS never gets that bad.”

When we arrived in Boston, Andy went to get the van and Karen, Kim, and I headed to baggage claim. Everything was accounted for except the iBot. I went to the baggage office to inquire. The gentleman in front of me was ripping the person behind the desk a new one.

He said, “I am appalled that you would treat a first-class passenger this way.”

You poor thing.

The other attendant quickly found my iBot, and we were on our way.

So ended another wonderful vacation. I’m grateful that I have the resources to travel this way. And I’m thankful for the help of my brothers, my sisters-in-law, and most of all, my amazing wife. We had so much fun that we’re going on another cruise this summer.

Maybe I’ll blog about it.

To start at the beginning, Disabled Cruising 2017 Part One, click here.

Disabled Cruising 2017 Part 4: On the Ship

For this vacation, we decided to use Kim's eBay earnings to see how the other side lives. We booked a wheelchair accessible suite, which is of course larger than a normal suite, which is larger than a normal cabin.  Certain perks came with the suite package too, such as a butler (who we shared with ten other suites), unlimited internet, premium drink package, private cocktail bar and dining room, champagne upon arrival, preferred seating at the theater, and a bunch of other, mostly minor, stuff.

I’m reminded of the movie Titanic, where the first class and steerage passengers were kept separated. Like Rose’s fiancé in the movie, I knew I would have to remain diligent to keep Kim from sneaking out of our cabin to go below decks and party with the real people. I think I succeeded, but there was that one night when I didn’t hear any snoring from the other side of the bed…

The Ship 

I find large, modern cruise ships to be more accessible than even the nicest hotels. This ship, Celebrity’s Silhouette, did not disappoint. The cabin was spacious and wheelchair friendly, especially the bathroom. When I pushed my key card into the slot, the door to our cabin not only unlocked, but it opened for me. And the public spaces shined. Almost every door I encountered opened and closed for me automatically. The entrance to every public bathroom was equipped with a pushbutton, as was the entrance to the accessible stall within. Few ramps were required because few elevation changes existed. And elevators? There were banks and banks of them.

Outstanding food options are included in every cruise package, but they try to get you with high-end restaurants that require you to pay a premium. With our suite package, we had access to a couple of these without an extra fee. I remember on our first cruise seven years ago, we ate in the main dining room every night, and we considered the quality of the food and the service to be five-star. By dining at the same table every night, we were waited on by the same service folks and sat with the same dining companions. We learned a little bit about the staff and our companions, and they learned a little about us. By day two, our favorite drinks were awaiting us when we arrived. On this cruise, however, we ate at a different restaurant almost every night. Again, the food and service were outstanding, but we did miss out on that classic cruise experience of the main dining room.

Kim and I like to gamble. I play the blackjack tables, and she plays video poker. We frequented the ship’s casino, as did my brother Andy. I came in second place in the blackjack tournament, but that pot wasn’t enough to offset my losses for the week. Kim didn’t make out so well either, but we met a lot of people and had fun.

Each evening we rendezvoused with the rest of our gang on the appropriate deck to have a drink and watch the sunset. Here are a few photos.

The iBot

Although almost nine years old now, the iBot still impresses. My other chair, a Permobil, does more tricks than the iBot, and it is better suited for everyday use, but nothing turns heads like the iBot’s balance mode or stairclimbing mode. In my Permobil wheelchair, people treated me politely if they noticed me in all. In my iBot, I was a rock star. I encountered a problem, however, which was a first for me with the iBot. In balance mode, the chair is quite good about adjusting to various inclines, but it has no ability to adjust for elevation differences in the opposite axis, sidehill situations. Here’s what I mean.

One day Andy rented a cabana on the top deck of the cruise ship. One of the unique features of the ship, or this class of ship within Celebrity, is the real grass lawn areas on the top deck. The first time I approached our cabana, I didn’t realize that a curb crept up on the sidewalk. When I hit the angled curb in balance mode with just one of my tires, see picture below, I thought I was screwed. But the iBot quickly diagnosed the fact that I was about to tip over, and it dropped me from balance mode into four-wheel-drive mode so quickly that I didn't tip over at all. As everyone does when they stumble, the first thing I did was look around to see if anyone had seen me, and they hadn’t. Still, I confessed my story as we sat in the cabana and sipped on tropical drinks.

One evening, as we were hanging out at a nightclub, a gentleman approached me when I was in balance mode.

“How long have you been in your iBOT?”

“Almost nine years. I got one of the last ones made.”

“We’re making an iBOT 2.0, you know.”

“You work for DEKA?”

“Yes I do.”

“Hey, I’m the guy on the landing page of your website…”

We had a nice conversation on all things iBot, and he is excited about the next generation product, although he couldn’t provide me with many details.

I’m going to miss my iBot when it finally reaches the end of its life.

One more post about the cruise!

For part three, click here.
For part five, click here.