Friday, November 15, 2019

Present Day Life with My Rollator

Casting a long shadow
Almost three years after my rollator prep on the bridge, I can happily affirm that having a rollator offers giant-sized satisfaction for me! 

Hubby and I indulge in early morning or evening walks on our town’s paved Front Beach walking path, me with my rollator, Hubby with either his Nikon or my iPhone. 

He was behind me when he took the photo above. The rising sun created our combined giant-sized shadow.

Being outside and enjoying the breezes, views, walking path and sense of community with other beachgoers is priceless. My rollator is a huge factor in those experiences. 

A sunset walk at the beach (Photo by Hubby)

Having a rollator as a part of our family is not without mishaps, though. During a recent trip in the Smokies and Blue Ridge mountains, we stopped at a pullout in Virginia for Hubby to rearrange some items rattling around in the back of our van. 

He lifted my rollator out of the sliding side door, set it down a few feet from the van and set to work securing things inside. I stayed seated in the passenger seat, enjoying the vistas around me and the mill ponds 40 or so feet on the mountainside below.

What neither of us realized was the rollator was not locked. It was taking its own scenic tour down the adjacent slope, an extremely steep slope. 

I was oblivious; but as soon as he stepped out of the van, Hubby realized the racket he heard while he was in the van was the rollator’s escape. He alerted me that he was going to retrieve it. 

Soon he was back with the errant rollator, and we hit the road again. 

He had avoided going down that steep mountainside and found an easier descent down a gently sloping path past the millponds and the rushing stream that long ago powered a mill.

I am embarrassed to admit that I had stuffed the rollator basket with brochures and fact sheets I had collected at visitor centers and other sites but had never read. Most of his mountainside retrieval operation was gathering up that collection. 

It occurred to me that in addition to showing its age, my rollator has taken on a personality of its own. 

Maybe I need to give it a name the way old cars or trucks earn a name when they become part of the family, just like the first car of my childhood memories, a 1947 Chevrolet my parents dubbed “Old Betsy.”

I have yet to come up with a name that captures the rollator’s  character: usefulness spiced with a dash of mischief. 


Monday, November 11, 2019


Retirement Daze and I have been missing in action. 

Testing now to see if is back online! 


Tuesday, October 22, 2019

Rollator Prep: Part Three of Three

My final challenge in the neuro therapy bridge session was getting down the steps from bridge to street level. Rollators aren’t designed to navigate stairs.

No problem! I just got a good grip with my right hand for balance and expected to get the job done. Right?


Ashley had a different agenda: No hands and don’t look down at your feet. 

Terror attack!

My right hand kept just automatically kept reaching for that sturdy, reliable railing. And Ashley kept reminding me, “No holding on!” 

I finally hit upon a strategy that succeeded. I held my right hand up high. When I started to reach for the security of that banister, the movement reminded me that particular action was a no-no. 

My effort didn’t reduce my fear or improve the placement of my stroke-affected left foot. But by the smiles, it seems Ashley and Charlie appreciated my attempts. 

Or maybe they just found humor in my method for making that right hand comply with instructions.