I Can’t Become Her

These days I dream of walking through hallways, up steps, and down city streets. Every night for months my mind has built dream narratives around searching for my wheelchair, feeling ashamed in the familiar way one feels ashamed during dreams of appearing naked in front of an audience. In these dreams, I walk easily from place to place searching and believing with all my heart that I have been exposed as a fraud, as a…
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What I do in Retirement, or Ode to Della Street

I’ve taken to watching the Perry Mason show each morning. It’s all about nostalgia; for as long as I can remember I have loved Della   Street. When I was a child I saw her as the model intelligent, hard-working, eminently capable professional woman. Smartly dressed in her pencil skirts, cardigans or vests, and impenetrable makeup, she was the perfect colleague for Perry. To my mind, Paul Drake did nothing more than run from place…
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The Shortness of Days

I am constantly disappointed by the fact that I now spend day after slow, quiet day engaged in activities I once thought of as pastimes – reading online newspapers and blogs, staying caught up on Facebook “news,” watching television and DVDs, and incessantly checking e-mail and discussion boards. Now that multiple sclerosis (MS) has forced me to “retire” I find my life so reduced in scope that I look forward with great anticipation to the smallest…
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