Other Stuff - The Thin Edge of Dignity

 

Dick Weinman is an AARP volunteer and an assisted living guru

Like the Norse legends of old, the saga of Zip-Locks and Other Stuff  never ends. Here is the next chapter.

As I first encountered the frustrating obstacle to gastronomic pleasure at rehearsals (you recall the zip-lock bag and the cherry tomatoes. If not, click on the link in the first sentence above),  so I faced the second challenge to my disability, while tasting the freedom of life outside of the ALF - at the same rehearsal.

Since the cast call was 6:30 PM, I was unable to receive my 7:00 pills in the comfortable cloister of the ALF.  I had to take them at rehearsal in the theatre.

(A momentary digression is in order: when the Administrator of the ALF allows the play to rehearse on ALF premises, it makes rehearsing easier for me and other cast members (it’s much easier to park here than downtown.) For me there’s no need to be driven to the theatre by a volunteer cast member or the director, and the Med-Tech can bring me my pills in-house, to take under her watchful supervision. A win-win situation, you’ll agree.)

Meanwhile, in order to “pill-up” at the theatre, the Med-Tech must prepare my three pills for evacuation from the ALF.  In the medically sanitized med room, she dutifully pops each pill out of its “bubble” container (those of you who have to chronically take pills know what I mean), and places them in the “take-out” envelope, a 1” x 2” paper container with a pasty seal top - no escaping while carried. She licks the seal, and seals it, so it’s tightly sealed and sealed safely.

I get to unseal the traveling envelope  at rehearsals – or, more accurately, I ask a cast member to rip the seal open for me.

(Another digression: like the zip-lock bag into which the tomatoes were sealed, I’m unable to break the seal with my one semi-functioning hand. Even when I try to bite the sealed envelope open, holding the closed end of the envelope, my fingers are too weak to grasp it firmly, and my teeth not sharp enough to have a successful rip.)

A cast member does the envelope ripping for me, and pours the pills into her hand. I’m ready to lift them from her open palm one-at-a-time.  Then . . . uh oh. I need water.

So, while her palm remains open, waiting for the pill extraction, another cast member takes my plastic, tea-cup handled violet cup, and seeks the water dispenser. Mission accomplished, he returns to the scene of the outstretched open palm and my semi-open waiting mouth – and we consummate the action. Another barrier caused by disability broken.

More “stuff” in a later episode. Even folks with two working hands have trouble with this one.