The restrooms in some businesses and many highway rest stops are like airports that have no-door entries to restrooms. They are easy to navigate with my rollator and are perfectly discrete.
Some public restrooms, however, have heavy doors that I cannot fully open. I can't get my rollator or myself safely in or out.
Often other ladies graciously offer to hold the door open for me. If no one shows up, Hubby comes checking on me, knocking on the door and asking if I'm okay. If I'm through hand-washing, hand-drying and hair-checking, he pushes or pulls the door open and holds it open for me to escape.
Now that is the sanitized version.
What really happens is that he bellows, "Are you all right Linda?"
I shout "Yes." If I'm not ready to come out but I'm okay, I holler back a time frame for my exit.
Occasionally he becomes concerned and lurks about until he sees a lady approaching the restroom door and asks her if she could check on me. Often the result has to be a God-thing with the lady checking on me turning out to be a nurse, rehab therapist, or the daughter or niece of a stroke survivor.
I appreciate Hubby being brave enough to ask strangers for help. I appreciate that they are always gracious and ready to help.
And then there is another category--those individuals who see me and immediately offer to help me without me ever saying a word about needing help.
And it is those folks who have taught me, I'm sure without ever intending to, valuable lessons. I learned I was carrying around a load of prejudice.
There was that young lady in Walmart who asked if I needed help. She had body art tattooed on every inch of skin not covered with her minimal clothing.
She was quite perceptive in how to help. I had to drop my prejudices about younger individuals' choices about clothing and body art.
She was a blessing.
And I realized I had automatically--and erroneously--categorized her as someone uninterested and dismissive of old people.
Lesson learned: Beware of categorizing others based on outward appearances.
Then there was the tiny Asian lady who rescued me when I got one of those electric Walmart scooters hung up in the handicapped stall.
That edition of the scooter required two hands. I used one hand to press the button that kept the scooter moving. If I took my hand off movement stopped.
There were two other buttons, one to press for turning right and another for left. I had only one hand that worked. I could reach neither without releasing the go button.
My experimenting did lead to some movement. I got the scooter jammed in the opened stall doorway ARGHHHHH!
From there I could see that a line of ladies awaiting their turn had developed.They tried to help to no avail. I couldn't get out, and my meager attempt to push as those ladies pulled failed.
I was truly trapped. But that one tiny Asian lady waved everybody out of the way. Then she just reached under the front of that heavy scooter and jerked it out the door. I thanked her effusively. She just smiled.
She was a blessing.
Lesson learned: One doesn't have to be big to be powerful.
That day I also learned to always use my rollator or a grocery buggy rather than the electric scooters even though I know the stores surely have easier-to-operate versions these days.
It occurs to me just now that I seem to learn a lot of lessons in Walmarts, and I don't even really go there much since Hubby does most of our shopping!
Question for you: Which word is used in your locale, "buggy" or "grocery cart" or "shopping cart"?
-30-
