Sharing Personal Experiences
about Disability and Homecare

There's always a rush to see who can get into the elevator first at the nursing home. It's survival of the fittest at its best or worst, and bears a close resemblance to bumper cars played with wheelchairs. So when the elevator arrived and my opponent standing next to me started to move first, I asked her what floor she needed ( to avoid having to juggle wheelchairs in and out of the elevator to accommodate those who had to get off first). Immediately she took this as an affront and translated it to mean that I wanted to use the elevator ahead of her. Grudgingly she told me which floor she needed to wheel her husband to, and I asked her to allow me to go in first so she could go out first (that way she'd be closer to the door).

Imagine her surprise, when after taking care of my own father, I actually helped her push her husband into the elevator and helped her get him out of the elevator at the right floor. Her parting words to me were, "I'm not used to young people these days being so thoughtful. Thank you."

I don't know which I appreciated more--the thank you or being called "young".