How Do I Say This Nicely?

Good afternoon from your favorite Medical Mystery!  When does "House" start?  I feel like I might pop up on an episode and be enlightened in some way.  Who am I kidding? They would totally wait for SWEEPS to put my episode on - it's so enthralling.  NOT ;-)

Enough BS for now, let's get into a little about the past couple of weeks.  I've realized that I have effectively worked every single day since September 12th and it will pretty much continue through the 12th of October.  I am taking special care to ensure that THIS WEEKEND, I sit firmly on my butt the majority of the time I am awake.  The busiest two weeks of my professional life is upon us and it's usually an out the door by 7am and back home by 9:30 or 10:00pm type of schedule.  Yes, it is time to go forth into the world and help high school students and parents realize their potential.  It is a time of high energy, loud conversation and repetition.

All of that work involved a lot of planning and preparation of course, and part of that preparation was for the national conference I had told you about in previous posts.  September 21st had me on a plane to New Orleans, The Big Easy.  Big it was, Easy - not so much.  For the first time since seeing five medical practitioners and finding out there is SOMETHING wrong with me, my physical disposition was a constant reminder of how we take for granted our able-bodiedness.  I felt handicapped for the first time.

I did my best to plan for just about anything; I know I've only got one hand to work with while the other is brandishing a cane and this makes the entire world an obstacle.  Luckily, airport security is pretty relaxed for those of us that are clearly differently-abled.  I was helped through security, received pre-boarding and had a generally smooth flight.  Catching a cab with some friends to our respective hotels was the first time the decency of people was tested.

Our cabbie stopped the car just long enough to empty my three bags onto the STREET (not the sidewalk) and take my money for the fare.  He was high-tailing it down the street before I was able to grab my bags and make my way into the lobby of the SpringHill Suites.  Cabbies are absolutely nuts about 89% of the time, so I didn't find this completely surprising but either way...it was a sign of the things to come.

My hotel was a mere two blocks from the conference center and my first visit to the site was an eye-opener.  Yes, the walk only took me about five minutes but as I entered the facility, a half-mile walk was staring me down.  The convention center is close to TWO MILES LONG and our hall was very far away from my direct entrance down the street.  Note to self at this point: start taking the shuttle, buddy.

Just a couple of years ago I was much more able on my feet.  My workouts consisted of boxing on a heavy bag with a healthy dose of full body attacks.  Spinning, jumping and squatting were all a part of my normal abilities of motion.  Drumming was much more fun, as I'm intrigued by physical feats of endurance and strength.  Learning to play an As I Lay Dying album kept me busy for months working towards perfection and never getting there.  This made me happy, the pursuit of improvement.

Nowadays my achilles tendons no longer have a reflex under stress.  You know when the doctor smacks your knees and feet with that little rubber triangle hammer?  They are supposed to kick back with a response.  When the neuro hits the back of my foot above my heel, there is no reaction at all.  This has taken a lot of precision out of my bass drumming.  It translates to one other thing; when I walk I'm lifting two lumps of foot.  My feet have a natural tendency to drop when it's lifted from the ground.  This means I have to lift my entire leg from the hip, higher than I would if my muscles were not atrophied.  I do it so I don't trip over my own two feet - something I've done for years.  It's inefficient motion and after a while it's a bit trying.  I feel like a wimp because I get tired so easily.

Sometimes I feel like I'm complaining.  I'm sure a good part of my blogs are complaining, but I do it because I'm an observant person.  I think I go through periods where I focus on what is happening to me rather than being happy about the things I should appreciate.  I have so many awesome things going on in my life and I could talk about it all day.  Then of course, I would sound like a braggart rather than a complainer and still come off self-centered!




Enough of the backstory already. I met my good friend and personal NOLA savior, Kristina at the center and we checked in as presenters and headed up three sets of escalators to check out our presentation spot. The conference even had their own app to help you navigate the three day event and we were totally geeking out when we saw our information on our phones!  We spent most of the week working on our presentation with our co-presenters, two of which we had never met before stepping off the plane.  All in all when it was said and done, the presentation itself went off without a hitch and we were very pleased with its reception and the questions other professionals had for us.  I look forward to being able to share my experiences with those looking to expand their careers in the same direction that I have.

NOLA had many cool experiences to be had between the bookends of Southwest flights and it was a memorable time.  The first day of the conference involved an amazing keynote speaker, Jonah Lehrer.  He is a fellow neuroscience degree holder and gave a great speech about the way our brains make decisions - tailoring his talk to the close to 5000 high school/higher-ed professionals on-hand to hang on his words. In preparation for this afternoon's keynote I made my way over to the conference center and decided to grab a bite to eat. 

Standing in line with my laptop bag on one shoulder, cane in one hand and food in the other, I clumsily pay and make my way over to an available spot to enjoy my muffuletta.  While essentially hobbling to the seat with all this crap in my hands, a young lady speeds past me and bumps my Diet Coke bottle out of my hands onto the floor.  Without stopping or apologizing she b-lines it to the chair and takes the spot I was about five feet from.  More than anything, I was pissed at the lack of apology but was very hungry.   

I made sure to sit on the floor very near her to eat my food, so she could at least see the dude she ran over for a chair.  I texted Rae about my complaint and she said that "people are generally selfish and wouldn't care about your situation, even if you WEREN'T having trouble getting around." This is a heavily blanketed statement which continued to prove itself true throughout the week.

After getting a chance to meet Jonah and have him sign my copy of his book, "How We Decide", Kristina and I sat in on the only session we were going to be able to attend at the conference due to our busy "presenter" schedule.  Again, this was neuro-centric and would be teaching the attendees a little neurobiology and developmental psychology at the same time.  "The Developing Teenage Brain" (paraphrased) is a technically advanced presentation and we would like to dumb down a little to take the confusion out of its subject matter and then present it at our upcoming state conference.  Honestly, we just need to dumb it down for ourselves!  My lab rat days were over long ago.

Shortly after our Brain and Behavior 101 we readied ourselves for a night out on the town.  We had it on good authority that the place to have dinner was Jacques-Imos.  After enjoying an amazing spread kicked off with an Alligator, Sausage, Shrimp "Cheesecake" (think quiche) we barreled through entrees and eventually it was time to call a cab for the trek home.  I went outside to join one of our co-presenters in waiting for the Yellow Cab and got to small talk.  

In this time a large group of drunks from New York came out of the restaurant and were staged with the iconic Art Car out front for pictures.  A line was forming of people waiting for taxis and we were numero uno and dos.  For how popular this place was, the frequency with which a cab came by was few and far between.  I was getting pretty tired from the energy the day took from me and was ready to start walking home.

Luckily, a cab pulled up and was ready for a fare.  Unluckily for us, the drunks from New York stepped in front of us and piled in.  Kristina kindly asked them if they were the first in waiting, knowing explicitly that they weren't. She was ignored and we watched them pull away.  "Who takes a cab from a dude with a CANE?" she exclaimed.  Drunk New Yorkians, that's who.  Specifically two drunk female New Yorkians leading the charge, with their drunk men in-tow.  After finally making it to the hotel I slept heavily through the night, exhausted and needing to be up at 6:30am for the next day's activities.

The next day was filled with more preparation for the presentation and was the first time all five of us were in the same place at the same time.  This was a much needed occurrence, as my OCD was really getting to me about not having felt properly geared up for Saturday's show.  By this point, I had smartened up and began taking the shuttle to and from my hotel to the convention center.  This particular evening I was heading out to another "Best of NOLA" restaurant with my friend Jennifer.  At the advice of Paul the Best Cabbie Ever (I gave him this title), we took the street car over to Vincent's - voted the best Italian fare in New Orleans for 10 years running.  The street car ride was interesting....

...mind you, it was about five o'clock and the street car was full from the locals taking their $1.25 ride home.  As we boarded from the sidewalk I took a look down the length of the aisle of the car and quickly realized that I would be standing for at least part of this ride.  Like most other forms of public transportation I've been on, the seats nearest the entrances are marked as reserved for seniors and those of limited mobility.  I grabbed hold of a pole and did my best to keep myself stable.  I stood in front of a woman who was visibly able-bodied with my arm wrapped around a steel support while she refused eye-contact with me.

What irked me about this was the fact that next to her was her massive purse taking up a seat.  I'm the kind of guy that opens doors for strangers, gives right of way and am generally aware of my surroundings.  As a stranger, I feel odd asking others for accommodations.  At the same time, should I expect for someone to treat me with the same kindness I would extend towards them?  There are lots of bags taking up precious real estate in the Crescent City!  After about 10 minutes, Jennifer had wrangled us a couple of seats together in the middle of the car.  Chalk it up to not wanting to be bothered for the journey home, blame it on a bad day at work but either way - it felt disheartening.  I'm not expecting to be treated differently or exceptionally, but I would like to be afforded the opportunity to feel safe and comfortable like anyone else would.

After a few occurrences like this, I began fighting for what I wanted.  I fought for my space in meeting rooms, elevators, on sidewalks and on shuttles.  I pushed people out of my personal space and let people know they were being assholes when necessary.  I became the crotchety guy with flames on his cane.  He's just bitter that he's got to make his way around like that.  That's how I used to look at people like me, before I became a decent man.

The last day of the conference I was walking through the Exhibitors' Hall and was approached by a woman trying to lure me over to their product.  She didn't recognize me as she was asking me about my needs as a higher-ed professional and as she read the name off my name tag to get my attention.  In response to her attempt at conversation, I picked up my cane and showed her the flames.  "Do you remember me from Jacques-Imos?" Her face turned to one of realization and said, "Yeah.  Sorry about that."  I said, "Me too" and walked away.

Bright and early the morning of the 25th, the Airport Shuttle driver helped me load my three bags onto the van.  As I climbed the steps, I made eye contact with the woman in the first seat whose bags were occupying the very accessible chair at the front of the shuttle.  She looked away from me when I walked down the aisle and took a seat next to a man whose bag was also occupying the seat next to him.  He smiled at me and gladly moved his bag so I would have a place to sit.

In the 4.5 days I was in NOLA, one observation sticks in my head: men were cognizant of my abilities and were accommodating when they could be.  Women kept a bubble around them.  I talked to Rachel about this and she said something very interesting, which she thought would likely vilify her to readers.  I'm going to pass it along because she "doesn't care, it's just her opinion." "You know, a lot of women I've met feel entitled to many things.  Women have fought to be treated equally in the workplace, in society and by the government.  They want the same rights as everyone else, but I think it's sad when there you stand clearly not on the same level as they are physically and they aren't willing to help you or extend a hand to aid you in a situation.  Hypocrites."

My very caring and accommodating fiancée just left for work.  She told me to enjoy some time on my butt and drink some beer today.  She always keeps her purse in her lap when I need a seat :-)

-Lee