We Went Camping: Part Two

At 4 o’clock on Friday, we piled into our minivan and drove the fifteen minutes to Hampton Beach, one of those classic, east coast towns with a split personality.  Cheesy T-shirt shops and carnival style food stands from the 1950s are interspersed with modern resorts and hotels. One thing has remained constant over time, however. There’s a lot of sand and a lot of water in Hampton Beach.

We pulled into the Casino Ballroom parking lot, the venue for the Beach Boys concert we would attend later in the evening, and asked the attendant if there was any wheelchair accessible parking. “I’m sorry, all those spots are taken.”

Kim drove around the parking lot, looking for a space both well positioned for an exit after the concert and accessible for unloading me (maybe at the end of a row). We formed an ad hoc committee of five expert advisors to help Kim make the right parking decision. I’m certain she appreciated the suggestions and the constructive criticism. She tried out two or three spaces before she became fed up and parked in a spot nobody liked. After we piled out of the van and began to walk across the parking lot, we noticed five, big, beautiful, handicapped parking spots, all vacant and well positioned near the exit. The committee of advisors turned in unison and looked at Kim. She moved the van one more time. Stupid parking attendant.

After dinner and drinks, we explored the beach. Kim and I stayed off the sand because it looked a little soft for the iBot. On our way from the beach back to the music venue, we stopped at some shops. Kim told me that she liked a certain necklace, but would never consider spending the exorbitant sum of $58. I asked her to show it to me. She did, and I liked it. It took all my skills of persuasion, but I convinced her to purchase the necklace – a rare gift for herself.



Time for the Show

Six or seven years ago we attended a concert at the Casino Ballroom. After the show, we approached the wheelchair lift, only to find that there was a long line for it. “Let’s take the stairs down to the street,” I suggested to Kim. She agreed.

I positioned the iBot inches from the top step. Two employees rushed over. “Sir, what are you doing?”

“This is a stairclimbing wheelchair. Just step back and prepare to be astonished.”

One of the employees spoke to someone on his radio, then said, “I’m sorry Sir, but we can’t allow you to proceed. We’re not insured for that.”

“Don’t worry. We do this all the time. Please, just step out of the way.”

The employees gave up their attempt to stop us and asked, “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Yes, hold on to these,” Kim said as she took off her high heels. She then guided me down the long staircase and out onto the sidewalk. Several employees and a group of spectators expressed their amazement. Kim and I played it cool on the outside, but on the inside we basked in the glory of our accomplishment.

This past Friday, as we approached the same venue, one of those employees from so many years ago came up to me and said, “I recognize you. You’re the one with a stairclimbing wheelchair.”

I recognized her too, and asked, “Would you be terribly disappointed if I took the wheelchair lift this time?”

“Of course not,” she said.

By the time I got up to the concert level, I noticed Kim already working on an usher. She pointed toward me, and he nodded. When I reached them, the usher said, “Follow me.”

Although we only had general admission tickets, he sat the six of us in the front row, stage left. This is usually how it goes for me at concerts – one of the silver linings of being a wheelchair user.

The Beach Boys played for about two and half hours, and it was an awesome show. The only way it could have been better is if they played for one and one-half hours and skipped all the filler songs that nobody knew. But, nevertheless, we enjoyed ourselves.

Once the concert was over we hustled out to the minivan and joined the 2500 or so fans leaving downtown Hampton Beach. Karen Cole volunteered to drive, and once again a committee of five expert advisors began advising. Feeling bad for Karen, I took charge and made an impassioned speech. “I appreciate that everyone has their opinions about which way Karen should go, but she and I have it under control. So shut the F up.” They did shut up until I told Karen to go the wrong way on a one-way street. The others pounced on my error and I lost the upper hand. The opinions flew in from every direction, but somehow Karen found her way out of Hampton Beach anyway.

We retired to bed as soon as we got back to the campground, which was close to midnight.

Tomorrow – the conclusion of our camping saga.

Other posts in this series:
I'm Going Camping
We Went Camping: Part One
We Went Camping: Part Three

We Went Camping: Part One

Kim and I arrived at Wakeda Campground in Hampton Falls, New Hampshire, around two o’clock on Thursday and started making ourselves at home in cabin number 21, one of three cabins we had reserved. About halfway through the process I offhandedly remarked that cabin 25 had a lot more shade. The weather forecast called for temperatures in the high 80s, and I’m super sensitive to heat. Kim agreed and moved everything down to cabin 25, without complaint.

Just as we finished settling in, the rest of our crew arrived – my brother Andy and his wife Karen, and another couple we had only met in passing once or twice over the years.

We enjoyed dinner and then a roaring campfire. It was all low key stuff. I encountered no particular challenges. The grounds were flat and hard, easily maneuverable in either of my wheelchairs. The transfer from my wheelchair to the bed in the camp went smoothly. I fell asleep within minutes. About an hour later, I woke up.

Although I can’t move my legs, my sensory nerve endings still work. I can feel everything. In this case, my buttocks and my tailbone informed me that they were not happy. The mattress was a piece of foam, insufficient for my needs. A healthy person can roll from sleeping on their left side to sleeping on their back, to sleeping on their right side, and make the best of a poor mattress situation. All I could do was suffer, or wake up Kim to help me adjust my position, which I did at least half a dozen times throughout the night. I estimate that I got two hours of sleep. Kim may have managed slightly more.

After a big breakfast on Friday morning, Kim and I set out to find the nearest Walmart, which was only a few miles away. Mattress toppers ranged in price from $7.88 to $140. We settled on a 1½ inch, queen-sized memory foam mattress cover for $38. We folded it in half so I had a 3-inch cushion to work with. The next two nights I slept as comfortably as I do at home.

The Biggest Challenge

Adapting. Overcoming obstacles. Taking risks. That’s what Kim and I are all about.

I’m not referring to accessibility issues like the one above. That’s child’s play. I’m talking about the courage and social skills it takes to spend a weekend with people you barely know.

About a month earlier, Andy and Karen found themselves in preliminary talks with both Kim and I and their friends David and Karen about a summer getaway. Everyone’s schedules being what they were, the second weekend in July became the focal point for each discussion. Andy and Karen made the bold decision to combine two worlds, to mix old friends with close family in a single weekend. They sold the idea to both us and the Coles, but everyone knew that the big risk takers were Andy and Karen. If they had miscalculated, if they had reached too far, the weekend could crash and burn, and everyone would blame them.

It’s not like we had no common ground. Four of us – David, Andy, Kim, and me – graduated from the same high school in Lincoln, Maine. All six of us attended the University of Maine. But Kim and I are a bit younger than the other four. Sitting around the campfire, David and I learned that not only did we belong to the same fraternity on campus, Phi Kappa Sigma, but we were each fraternity president during our junior years. We compared war stories from almost a decade apart. I would love to share some of those anecdotes about the inner workings of our secret society, but then I’d be obligated to kill you, and there are so many of you that it would become logistically impractical, so I’ll refrain.

If Andy and Karen were the biggest risk takers, then David and Karen were a close second. They agreed to spend a weekend with a couple they barely knew, one of whom had advanced multiple sclerosis. I don’t know what they thought about in the days leading up to our outing, but if I had been in their shoes I would have had lots of questions bouncing around in my head. Would the guy in the wheelchair be upbeat and engaging or unhappy and withdrawn? How would he interact with his wife/caregiver? How would everything work – eating, sleeping, riding in the car, etc.?

It would have been easy for the Coles to find an excuse not to join us that weekend, but they took a chance, and they deserve credit. Unless I read the situation incorrectly, the weekend didn't crash and burn, and everyone had a good time.

More tomorrow, including the Beach Boys concert…

Other posts in this series:
I'm Going Camping
We Went Camping: Part Two
We Went Camping: Part Three

I’m Going Camping

You heard me.

For many years, this was our favorite summer activity, but Kim and I have not been camping since 2008.

My brother and sister-in-law, Andy and Karen, and friends David and Karen will join us. We found a campground in southern New Hampshire that has very basic cabins. We reserved three in a row. Each one has set of bunk beds and a queen-size bed, electricity, and almost nothing else (no running water or toilets, although there are public bathrooms and showers nearby).  Kim and I made a visit there a few weeks ago to assess the situation. It might work.

We will bring a Hoyer style lift to get me in and out of bed, transfer me to the commode, and switch me from wheelchair to wheelchair. We'll bring both the iBot and Invacare wheelchairs, and we'll bring our portable commode since there is no way to get me on and off the public toilets.

We leave on Thursday and return on Sunday. Over that time, I won’t shower, but we have ways to keep me from getting too ripe.

For sleeping, we'll bring a wedge pillow that slightly elevates my upper body, pillows to keep my feet elevated, and a device to keep the blankets off my feet. To have access with the Hoyer lift, we will rotate the bed ninety degrees. We already tried that out. I hope the mattress is not too uncomfortable. I envision a nap each afternoon in my air-conditioned minivan.

Our 5-foot portable ramp will get me from ground level up to the floor level of the camp. We already tried that out too.

Other than those things, it should be a fairly normal weekend for us. What could possibly go wrong?

Our campground is near a music venue that we’ve gone to several times – the Casino Ballroom in Hampton Beach, New Hampshire. After we made reservations at the campground, I wondered who might be playing the Casino Ballroom that weekend. Turns out it’s a little band called the Beach Boys. You may have heard of them. Now, the six of us are going to the Beach Boys Friday night.

What are my biggest concerns? I’m worried about sleeping, and I’m worried about heat exhaustion. Probably those things will go well and some unexpected events will prove challenging. One thing you can count on – I’ll give you a full report right here next week.

And for those sensible people out there who don’t think I should be announcing vacation plans on the internet, fear not. We’ll still have three people and my ferocious dog guarding our home.

Other posts in this series:
We Went Camping: Part One
We Went Camping: Part Two
We Went Camping: Part Three

Right and Wrong

Some folks insist that if they could live their life over again they wouldn’t change a thing. That’s a sweet sentiment, but I don't feel that way. Although I spend almost no time regretting my poor decisions, if I had it to do over again, you bet I would make some changes.

What I Got Right – Choosing Kim

She wasn’t from the popular crowd. She didn’t have the hourglass figure or poofy hair (fashionable in the 1970s). She wore little makeup, and she dressed like a boy. But she was real. She was fun, determined (especially on the track and in the classroom), flirtatious (at least with me), and had natural good looks.

What I didn’t know in high school is that she would grow into an amazing woman, mother, wife, and now caregiver. What I also didn’t know in high school is that I couldn’t have chosen a more compatible, loving, dedicated, and (again) fun individual.

I got that one right, and I’m glad she felt the same way toward me.

Observation: in the photo above she does have poofy hair, and she's definitely not dressed like a boy. But she looks so damn cute in this picture that I couldn't resist.

What I Got Wrong – Choosing to Be a Chemical Engineer

This is a tough one for me to admit because I spent so much of my life doing this work, and I was pretty good at it, and I was well compensated for it. But if I’m to be honest with myself, there were so many other directions I could have gone.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Chemical engineers made more money than any other four-year degree. My father liked the idea because he worked for chemical engineers at the paper mill, and they were the top dogs. The University of Maine, my choice for a college, offered me a half tuition scholarship my freshman year which became a full tuition scholarship for my next three years, based on an engineering major. My decision was almost preordained, and I didn’t have the wisdom or courage at the time to think for and advocate for myself.

What should I have done instead? I’m not sure. The life of a college professor may have worked – being both an intellectual and a coach for young people. I also think I would have been happier in the business/finance world. I like big picture issues – not so much how do I make this widget better, but how do I make this company better. I thoroughly enjoyed getting my MBA, but I was so far along in my engineering career that I never made the leap to the business side. I only used the MBA as resume material.

During high school, I didn’t consider myself a people person. I was horribly shy. I was much better at numbers and formulas and equations. It has only been in the last few years that I’ve tapped into my creative side and appreciated how rewarding it is to improve the lives of people. Perhaps I would have enjoyed helping others in the medical or legal areas. I don’t know.

I just know that I got it wrong when I chose to be a chemical engineer.

What Did You Get Right and Wrong?

This is a new series of blog posts, where I’ll write about one thing I got right in my life and one thing I got wrong. I would like to know your personal Right and Wrong stories. Please forward them to me at email@enjoyingtheride.com. Once I get enough of them, I’ll publish them in a blog post.

I’ve Still Got It

There are so many celebrations and festivals in greater Portland, but the one we never miss is the Old Port Festival, the second Sunday in June.

The weather was beautiful this year – sunny and in the mid-70s. I decided to spend the day in my iBot wheelchair. We used the new accessible path in Thomas Knight Park to gain access to the Casco Bay Bridge, and in less than half an hour we found ourselves in downtown Portland.

This was my first iBot trip of the year to Portland. With the sun beating down on me and sapping the strength from my body, I couldn’t keep my hand pushing on the wheelchair joystick continuously. I had to stop and give my arm a rest several times. This wouldn’t have been the case as recently as last fall – more evidence of disease progression through the winter.

The sun took its toll on me, and I became sluggish. Through our travels around the Old Port, we happened to find ourselves close to our favorite summer watering hole. Kim said, “Why don’t we just go to Portland Lobster Company and try to get a seat in the shade? Lyle and Phil Divinsky and Friends are playing.”

“That’s a stupid name for a band,” I said.

“They’re supposed to be good.”

I suggested, “It will be insanely busy there, but if we bust through the crowd at the entrance and keep our eyes open, we may find a high top table.”

With Kim leading the way and repeating, “Excuse us… would you mind moving just a little bit… wheelchair coming through… and so forth,” we found ourselves in front of the stage.

Before we even scanned the area for opportunities, a nice lady asked, “Would you like to sit here?” She motioned to an open space at her table.

It was loud, and Kim was closer to her than I was, so she spoke for me. “Thanks anyway, but he needs to be in the shade.”

“He can sit here, and I’ll move to the other side of the table.”

“No, we couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“We don’t want to impose.”

There may have been one more round of this maddeningly polite banter – I can’t remember – but the lady settled the issue by moving from the shaded side of the table to the sunny side. I maneuvered myself into the spot she had vacated.

Her son was the bass player in this oddly named but talented band. Lyle and Phil, who were father and son, took turns as the front man; both of them played the guitar and sang. A gifted lead guitarist and a drummer, along with the bass player, constituted the “and friends” portion of the group. These musicians whipped the crowd into a frenzy and then fed off our energy.

Friends of ours, Bob and Stephanie, texted us to see if we were at the Old Port Festival. We texted back three letters – PLC, and they knew where to find us. Before long Kim, Bob, Stephanie, and the lady who gave up her seat for me all began dancing in the tiny space between the band and our table. Strangers joined in, and it became a big, happy party.

Back when I was healthy, I never enjoyed dancing. In fact, I consider my inability to dance as one of the silver linings of having MS. But when there is great music playing, and I’m in a good mood, which were both the case on this day, my head starts bobbing to the beat of the music. When I’m elevated in the iBot, which I was, the chair reacts to my head movements, and in my own way, I am dancing.

The loud music made it almost impossible to carry on a conversation. It took forever to get a beer or use the bathroom. People bumped into us all afternoon. Yet none of these annoyances dampened our spirits. At one point, Kim and I made eye contact from across the dance floor and just smiled at one another. It’s a simple gesture, full of joy and love, which we need to do more often. The crowd partied until the band finished playing, and then we called them back for an encore.

As the band said goodbye, they announced that they would play at PLC every other Sunday all summer long. I said to the bass player’s mother, “I guess I’ll see you every other Sunday.”

Our day wasn’t over yet. Two more friends, Tim and Lynn, joined in, and the six of us went to Sebago Brewing Company, our favorite brewpub, for a light dinner, and then decided to go back to our house to enjoy a campfire on our patio. “It will take us about half an hour to walk home. If you get there before us, just make yourself comfortable,” I said. There are no wheelchair accessible taxis in the Portland area.

The ocean is cold this time of year in Maine. The wind direction shifted just a bit, and the walk home at 6 o’clock in the evening became uncomfortably cold. Although we didn’t bring jackets, we survived. Even without overheating, I still had some difficulty operating the joystick, but not as much as earlier in the day.

The six of us had a great time at our house sitting by the fire and cooking s’mores. What a wonderful day spent with my wife and our dear friends. Because I’m able to enjoy myself on days like this, I’m a lucky guy. I’ve still got it.



Notes on the photographs: The third picture down was taken by my daughter, Amy, and was picked up and featured by a local television station. It's a birds eye view from the Ferris Wheel shown in the second picture. The last three photos are random pictures of us at Portland lobster company over the years. Unfortunately, we didn't take any pictures on the day I wrote about in this post.

Read My Guest Post at the New My Counterpane Blog

Click here to see my post, and please consider adding Kate's blog to your regular online reading.

A Few Items…

Apple Watch Update

Last week I wrote about my Apple Watch. The only complaint I had was that I couldn’t use Siri, hands-free, to call 911. When I tried, the watch gave me a message indicating that I needed to complete the operation from my iPhone. What if I fall and I can’t reach my iPhone?

I had a long chat session with Apple technical support. I wore out two levels of technicians before I found myself with Melanie, a Senior Advisor. At the end of our chat conversation, she said that she would need to speak with the software engineers to determine if I was doing something wrong, or if this feature simply wasn’t supported.

She called me a couple of days later and said, “It’s not supported.”

I already had one workaround in place (see my previous post), and she gave me a second workaround. By making a contact called “HELP,” and making that contact a favorite, and giving the contact a phone number of 911, I can place a call to 911 from my watch with a couple of button pushes. I just can’t do it completely hands-free.

But the best news is, Apple now realizes that hands-free, voice calling for 911, is a desirable feature for the Apple Watch, and they will try to add it to a future software revision. We shall see.

Oh, and more good news. They read last week’s blog post, and liked it so much they passed it around inside Apple.

Book Title and Cover Design

I have decided on a title for my book, and a basic cover design. I understand that if I work with a publisher they may want to change that, but I like the idea of coming in with a solid idea. One of Kim’s sixth grade students sketched it for me, and I showed it to 15 or 20 folks. I got about 80% positive feedback. My niece Erin, who is an art education major in college, is working up another version for me. As soon as she’s done, I’ll share it here.

Who came up with the idea? Who gets the free lobster dinner? Me, at least I think so. I thought of the title and the cover design in the middle the night a couple weeks ago. But sometimes I think I have an original idea, when it was actually whispered in my ear by somebody else. So, if in fact it turns out that one of you did give me this idea, or something very close to it, I’ll gladly give you all the credit, and the lobster dinner.

Biotin

I’m a little over six weeks in, and I’ve noticed no changes yet. It’s still very early, and I am by no means discouraged. I’ll keep plugging away and update you every now and then.

My Experience with Apple Watch

I am an early adopter, even more so when technology can help me with some of my MS related challenges.

On April 25, soon after the watches showed up in Apple stores, I tried one out. With the Apple Watch mounted on my relatively useless left hand I could operate the controls with my slightly less useless right hand. I ordered my watch online later that evening. Apple indicated that I should expect delivery in June.

The watch arrived at my house, via UPS, on June 3^rd. I would have 14 days to evaluate the watch before the window for returns expired. I won’t need 14 days.

I Told Myself It Was about Safety

My official, number one reason for ordering the Apple Watch was safety. As I move around my house during the day, especially when I use my Sure Hands lift system to transfer from wheelchair to toilet, I need to be certain I can obtain emergency help if my phone is out of reach. I had researched several home emergency services, which typically required a pendant around my neck or some similar, dedicated device. I didn’t like the idea of a wearable device that I might only use once in a blue moon.

The Apple Watch does the job, although I had to create a work-around. When I said “Hey Siri, call 911,” I got a message stating that this feature is only supported on the iPhone, not on the watch. I called my local police department and asked if there was a ten digit phone number I could dial that would get me into the local 911 system. There is, and I programmed that as one of my favorites. I can call that number by saying, “Hey Siri, call emergency.” The only drawback is that the people who answer the phone won’t get 911 location data on my call. I’ll need to tell them my address. I decided that is something I could live with, but I emailed Apple asking them “what the hell?”

Note: Apple responded to my request in a positive way. Read about that here.

The Watch Provides More Than Emergency Communication

As my disease progresses, I find it increasingly difficult to operate my iPhone 6+. It takes significant effort to get the phone out of my wheelchair pouch, open it up, and manipulate it. With the Apple Watch, I twist my left wrist, and the watch turns on. The home screen gives me time, date, day of the week, outside temperature, battery charge, sunset, and alarm features, all at a single glance without my right hand becoming involved. I can invoke Siri to place a phone call or a text. I can read notifications from Messenger, Email, or other programs I specify. All of this with the twist of a wrist.

By using my right hand to push on the screen or on one of two buttons, I can do so much more, including answering phone calls. With a swipe I can access things like my heart rate, ESPN, music player controls, mapping program, and more. By pressing the home button I have access to apps such as weather, calendar, music, email, photos, etc. There are also a ton of activity monitoring features, none of which I care about other than heart rate.

Can I Justify the $400 Expense?

I’m in a unique position. I have difficulty operating an iPhone, but I can operate an Apple Watch. Because I live in this functional middle ground, the watch is an ideal companion to my iPhone. For healthy people, it’s more difficult to justify an Apple Watch unless you take advantage of the activity features. I’m glad Apple came out with this product, because it has made my daily life easier and made my day-to-day existence safer. And yes, it has temporarily satisfied my hunger for new technology, at least until the next great gizmo comes out.

If you’re wondering whether an Apple Watch is for you, go to an Apple Store and take it for a test drive. If you have questions about this device, or you’re an expert and have advice for me, write me at email@EnjoyingTheRide.com.

This is Mitch, signing out at 4:31 PM on Tuesday, June 9, 64°, 82% battery.

More Media Coverage about the Accessible Pathway in My Neighborhood

Unless you’re new to my blog, or you skip over the self-aggrandizing posts like this one, you’ve already read several times about my successful efforts to have a wheelchair accessible pathway installed through Thomas Knight Park. Now three widely read outlets have picked up the story.

I first documented this issue and my intention to do something about it at my friend Kate Milliken’s awesome website My Counterpane.

My initial blog posts on the subject were:

Our Love Affair with Cobblestone Streets and Brick Sidewalks
Wheelchair Accessible Pathway Installed around Cobblestone Street in My Neighborhood
A local newspaper’s article

The New Articles

All of these came about because Kate at My Counterpane advocated for me.

Liftbump is a national news consolidating service, and they ran this story.

Next, the MS International Federation posted this version on their World MS Day website.

But the story’s broadest exposure took place through the National Multiple Sclerosis Society Facebook page, where they posted this video. It was viewed over 14,000 times, shared on Facebook over 100 times, and liked by almost 400 people.

A Humbling Experience

I think these articles have run their course, so I won’t bore you with them anymore. It’s certainly been a humbling and rewarding experience, both seeing the path installed, and watching the interest it has generated. My hope is that the story has inspired others to become activists for accessibility issues in their neighborhoods.

Speaking to Students About Disabilities

I have to thank Kim for this opportunity. A few weeks ago she told me that her school, Cape Elizabeth Middle School, would be observing A Lot Alike week. They booked speakers, and they organized activities, all centered around the theme of inclusion. Kim asked if I would speak about disabilities. I reluctantly agreed to.

I assumed I would provide a public service, imparting knowledge to these young people. I would do them a favor and would receive nothing in return. As planned, I gave them an understanding of what it’s like to live with a disability. But to my surprise and delight, the energy, compassion, and earnestness I felt from the students lifted my spirits. I gave, and they gave back.

I wanted to start slowly, just one class of 25 or so eighth-graders, in case I bombed. My greatest fear was that I would bore them. The first session went well, so we set up three more sessions of 50 or so eighth-graders over the next week.

Using a PowerPoint presentation, I kicked things off with some pictures of Mrs. Sturgeon and me when we were the same age as these students. I deliberately made fun of our clothing and hair styles, and I quickly gained credibility.

Then, I told them about my diagnosis and explained the basic science of multiple sclerosis. I discussed the variety of symptoms that MS patients might encounter. I showed them pictures of me using a cane, forearm crutches, and a scooter. Next came the highlight of the show – an iBot demonstration. In each of the four sessions, when I elevated myself into balance mode, the students couldn’t believe their eyes.

I spoke about my mother – what a role model she was – and addressed some specific lessons I learned from her. I mentioned the eerie similarity between her injury and my disease.

Then I introduced my blog and talked about how it has benefited both me and those who read it. I shared with them some of my favorite posts.

I finished up with what I called My Keys to Resilience. Then came my favorite part of each presentation – audience questions.

Always, the questions started slowly, then once the ice was broken multiple hands flew up at one time. The students didn’t have much of a filter, and that was refreshing. Here are a few of the questions they asked:

Can you feel your legs? Yes
Does it hurt to lift your arms? Not really
Have you stabilized or are you still getting worse? Getting worse
What do you have for hobbies? I explained some of these
What kind of music do you listen to? Nothing made after 1982
How do you get into and out of bed? I explained this
How much did the iBot cost? $26,000
How did your mother break her neck? You’ll have to read my book
How do you travel? I explained some of this
What is the difference between MS and ALS? Mostly life expectancy and speed of deterioration
Are there any treatments? Many for relapsing, none so far for PPMS
Can you move your legs at all? A tiny, tiny bit. I demonstrated for them.
Do you have other wheelchairs? Three others
How does that wheelchair balance? Like a Segway

I had a huge advantage coming in. Mrs. Sturgeon is a beloved school counselor, and the students relished the opportunity to learn more about her life away from school, of which I am a pretty big part. I probably couldn’t have bombed if I had tried.