Tag disability

The Highlight Reel of the Ides of November

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

It is 6:45 a.m. I went to bed around 11 p.m. last night, after a long conversation with an old friend whom I haven’t had a chance to truly connect with for years (and while we “caught up” last night as if no time had passed, it didn’t feel like the happy reconnection I thought it would), and the dog woke me up at 5 a.m.

At 6:15 a.m., after loading the dishwasher and starting laundry and trying to snuggle dog into a nap with me on the couch, I finally made coffee figuring sleep would not return.

Now, the dog is gently snoring on the other couch.

I definitely would prefer to be a cat versus a dog. The dog seems an anxious and needy creature, where the cat has an attitude and most of them act like they have their shit together.

I haven’t written much this week because my physical and emotional struggles have left me in a survival mode, and upcoming changes at work have me concerned for my long-term success at mastering my cerebral palsy and achieving work/life balance that includes leading Parisian Phoenix Publishing.

And I’m okay with these struggles, they mean I’m human and I’m alive. And I guess I want other people to know that in an age where we “social media” ourselves to death and we’re exposed to worldwide turmoil and glamour, that I’m here with you in the trenches, surviving.

So, Wednesday turned out to be a hard day. We received the official word that starting some time in December, our performance metrics will be judged daily instead of by their weekly average. And that we can miss the daily minimum two days a month. I had already turned up to work crying because of stress in my everyday life. (Which only my friend in the parking lot saw. Speaking of my friend in the parking lot… she needs a nickname as she will play a larger roll in this blog post and hopefully appear more. I think I shall call her Southern Candy, because her roots are in the Southern United States and she likes to pass out hard candy.)

Now, after my neurologist/physiatrist appointment on November 9, (see Is it Time for Botox), I filed for Intermittent Leave from work which would allow me job protection if my work missed increases due to complications from my disability or more doctor’s appointments. I now have a lot of doctor’s appointments. With recent changes at work, I seem to have triggered a couple neuromas in my right foot, which my podiatrist shot with cortisone (See The Stabby Toe and the Challenging Gait), and unbeknownst to me, as I had never had cortisone to me, this transformed my good leg into a second bad leg.

It absolutely removed all my pain, but — and this is probably why my podiatrist asked when I planned on returning to work and seemed satisfied that “tomorrow” would give me adequate time to recover– it made it impossible to control and rely on my right leg as I typically do. BUT I can also say it made me acutely aware of how I use my legs and unfairly make my right leg carry more than its share of the movement burden which is why my right hip has issues.

My left leg “scissors” causing my left knee to pretty much cross in front of my right leg when I walk (and yes, that is as awkward as it sounds) but now my right foot drags, causing my toes to curl under my foot. I have compensated for this change in walking pattern by buying cowboy boots. Not real ones, but ones we sell at work: the Kassy boot by DV by Dolce Vita. (Unboxing on YouTube here.) They allow me to hear my walk, feel my foot, and not step on my toes.

At our weekly meeting, our supervisors announce the metric change. I understand their logic. They plan workloads daily so they should measure results daily, simply put. And as this change rolls out, I’m confident the company will “do the right thing” in implementing it. I’ve been there two years, so they have investment in me as I have investment in them.

On my good days, I average 101% to 103%. But on my bad days, without some extra support that minimizes my physical struggle, I average 95%. So with the weekly average system, I’m still a “fully performing” employee. On a really bad day, which happens ironically about once or twice a month as their new system will allow, I give everything I can and sometimes only hit 85%.

Now, unlike some of my colleagues, I am also on a work roster that has changed shifts twice in the last calendar year. Yes, I have had three different work schedules in the last year: Monday to Friday, 3:30 p.m. to midnight; then Sunday to Wednesday, 6:30 a.m. to 5 p.m.; and Monday to Friday, 6:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. All very different.

Add a neurological condition to that and it’s hard to adapt. When they offered Voluntary Time Off on Wednesday, allowing us to leave three hours early, I took it. My emotional state would best be labeled as frazzled and my right hamstring had started bothering me, probably because it felt like my right leg was a useless tree trunk.

Here is the happy part. The kindness part. The part where the light shines from one person to another. Thursday morning, I get a text from Southern Candy at 5 a.m. “Stop by my car when you get to work.”

She gave me a cat figurine. A cat in frilly dress with pink bloomers, staring into a goldfish bowl that even included a goldfish.

“I know you had a hard day yesterday, and it made me think of you.”

I brought it home and placed it on one of my Parisian Phoenix bookshelves. A place I can see from my workspace at the table and/or when I’m having dinner.

To skip ahead, I’ve been thinking it’s time to record and place a request for permanent accommodations at work. By Friday morning, when one of my colleagues said he’d like to help me out with the easier work but too many people had doctor’s notes, I decided to email my supervisor. So he and I now will try to make that happen. Around the same time, my neurologist’s office called to see if they could move my December 6 appointment to December 9. The times they offered overlap with a preexisting doctor’s appointment I have.

And my intermittent leave needs to be certified by December 9. I returned their call, expressed my regret that those appointments would not work, and asked the person on the phone to please leave a message for the doctor and her nurse that my employer had sent paperwork and that I would have more paperwork and that I would gladly pay any associated fees.

I also wanted to mention I am trying to eliminate inflammatory foods from my diet, but that can wait until I see her. I am wondering if I should request to work with a dietician and get a new set of bloodwork to check not only the standards like iron and cholesterol but also vitamins like B12.

I’ve done really well not stress eating in the ten days since I’ve seen her, eating vegetarian baked beans at work yesterday while my colleagues ate piping hot pizza. My weight is slowly dropping.

I’ve eaten no junk food in the break room, choosing fruit leather and yogurt over Cool Ranch Doritos and fancy fruit snacks. I even reduced my caffeine intake. Yesterday for dinner I made thick egg sandwiches with eggplant, mozzarella and extra sharp cheddar on my favorite multigrain buns and a little chipotle mayo and avocado hot sauce. One for dinner and two to go in the freezer for work lunches this week.

Although I know my perceptions are faulty, I feel like my only success this week has been with Andrew at Apex Training. I got my gym sweatshirt, and the dog immediately jumped on me and coated it with mud so I don’t have a decent selfie… yet. But these guys at the gym have been a lifesaver. Andrew works so hard to meet my needs and come up with innovative exercises to challenge me and train my muscles to cooperate. I did a seated shoulder press this week with 30 lb dumbbells, which ignited my inner strength as my lower body becomes more useless.

I discussed my hamstring troubles and we did some balance exercise yesterday. Andrew thought I was going to stand on the balance trainer and hold a weight on one side to create instability in my stance. Then, he saw me try to stand on the ball. And we opted to practice that first.

Finally, I asked The Teenager to check on Foster Kittens Jean-Paul Sartre and Giorgio in their habitat at Petsmart. I will see them today but it brought my heart joy to see that they are doing fine.

Small goals for a rainy day

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I don’t have the energy and the endurance that I once did. I can no longer drive myself to clean the house in a frenzy or bake all my bread from scratch.

I’ve gotten older.

My… constitution?… does not maintain consistency. Whereas it used to be my moods that swung, now my body’s functionality waxes and wanes.

So far today I have:

  • Folded laundry, and done another load
  • Did the hand wash dishes
  • Cleaned most of the stuff off the corner table
  • Had a glass of water, and a glass of iced tea
  • Cleaned the cat boxes in my room
  • Fed the bird
  • Vacuumed
  • And made amazing vegan flautas with Hungryroot cashew cheddar

I started Five Days at Memorial on Apple TV while I hung out with the dog.

And made great strides cuddling foster Jennifer Grey.

FURR Foster Jennifer Grey

With my walking being so unstable, I’m extra proud to announce that Friday night I squatted 135 lbs.

I started taking the Baclofen my neurologist prescribed and we’ll see if that makes walking easier.

And I’ve been sleeping 9-10 hours a night over the last few days so hopefully that also means my body is getting some recovery time.

Last but not least, I’ve been trying really hard to reduce sugars, refined carbohydrates and processed foods from my diet to test if that will lower the amount of inflammation in my body.

A reset? The NaNo Dilemma, a podcast/YouTube interview, and some disability philosophy

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

I signed up for NaNoWriMo 2022, in part because deadlines and challenges and what feels impossible sometimes motivates me. But between foster cats with diarrhea, work shift changes, health issues and mood in general, I’m losing my focus and drive. I need a reset and an evaluation of my goals more than I need a push.

I have learned in the last five years or so as I’ve “come out” of the disability “closet,” is that when you have a disability or a chronic condition you have a choice: you either withdraw from life or you become tenacious and stubborn and adaptive. I think the majority of those of us with congenital issues, especially when our parents didn’t make our physical difference the center of our existence, tend to be the latter to the point of ridiculousness. We want to do things, whatever they are, and we don’t want our bodies to hinder us.

I think people who came to body differences later in life might be more prone to accept “well I just won’t do that anymore” while younger people with catastrophic injuries have the will to keep on going, and those with issues since birth learn that if they want to experience certain things they have to work harder but in reality we need to work creatively. So the 20-year-old proclaimed paralyzed as the result of a sporting accident will be more motivated to walk again than the 60-year-old who had a car accident.

But these are really complex topics to ponder and very personalized to the emotional and financial resources a person has to support them.

If you read my personal blog, you know I have diplegic spastic cerebral palsy. If you get tired of hearing me day that, I don’t care. I’m 47-years-old and like many Generation Xers out there I’m wondering how the hell that has happened so quickly. But more importantly, and I write this without judgment, I had no real medical treatment between the ages of five and twenty.

I realized– because of my job working in the warehouse at Stitch Fix of all places– that not only do I know nothing about cerebral palsy, but my medical team might not know much either. So no wonder I have a lot of unanswered questions. This week I celebrate my two year anniversary with Stitch Fix and my journey to understand my own body will be forever tied with my warehouse job with them.

Up until December 2021, I had never seen a neurologist. Until that late December visit with a neurologist, I never even had a diagnosis on my file.

And to think, now I have TWO neurologists. I guess I just want to remind everyone, and this is why writing a cerebral palsy memoir will be one of my next projects, that we tend to view our doctors as people in a hierarchy above us and we approach them for answers and with hope of relief. Instead, we need to approach them as peers with education and insight and it’s our responsibility as patients to ferry information between them and do what we can for ourselves.

I had a fall Friday night, after a week long battle with nerve pain in my foot and leg. I agreed to cortisone shots in my foot to see if that would curb the pain in my foot (and it did) but the resulting change in sensation and muscle responsiveness has made this leg (which happens to be my good one) less reliable. Throw in lack of sleep, not enough food and a cocktail and down I went. As someone with cerebral palsy, I need to remember that normal side effects for people who have proper muscle control may manifest differently in me.

So, Saturday morning, I nestled under my new Dad blanket (if you need to hear more detail on any of this about Friday click here) and planned to work on my NaNoWriMo project. Even though I had the time, and the healthy start needed to get a flow going on the project, I didn’t write a word. And I’m wondering if, already having one novel underway and past deadline, if starting another is merely destroying any chance of focus I have.

I have 4,000 words on the NaNo project, which if you don’t know is National Novel Writing Month, and I should be at 12,000 words by now. I had hoped the new project, a new idea which is nothing like anything I’ve ever written, would shake off the bad habits of an editor/publisher debating every word and allow me to write freely. That impetus would revive my ability to write quickly and without overthinking.

And strengthen writing habits.

The jury is out.

I may abandon official NaNo in favor of sticking with a strict writing schedule of rising at 4 a.m. daily before my warehouse shift and writing from 4:15 to 5:15 a.m.

The Teenager has had two overnight clients and I think at last count it had been 16 days since she slept in her own bed. When she arrived home yesterday morning, she looked at me on the couch and her dog lazily dozing and decided we both needed fresh air. So she mentioned key words: “walk,” “ride” and “window.” The dog lost her mind.

The Teenager knows how to bribe both of us.

She recently bought a new harness and long line for the dog. So we went to a small park to try it out. The park outlaws tobacco, alcohol, fireworks, drugs and golf. But dogs are okay.

There’s a cute video on YouTube of F. Bean Barker enjoying the outdoors.

And then we went to “the Window.” Which in this case meant Dunkin as it was still early and we sampled their new Cookie Butter offerings, the cold brew and the doughnut. Both were dangerously decadent. The doughnut is 370 calories so I’m hoping it sells out to the extent where I can’t get my hands on it.

I went to the park and the window in my pajamas, because it was a gloomy Saturday and I didn’t see the point of fancying myself just to hang out with the dog.

I spent a good portion of the day doing dishes and laundry and watching “Wheeler Dealer Dream Car” on Motor Trend’s streaming channel. I subscribed to Motor Trend last month so I could binge watch the Dax Shepard redo of “Top Gear America” and I may hang on to the subscription as I enjoy the content. The Teenager finds this perplexing as she knows I have no mechanical aptitude.

She classifies my car knowledge as “it looks pretty” and “it goes fast,” but I suppose my interest is similar to my fascination with haute couture sewing. I have read my haute couture sewing guide cover to cover (and yes there is such a thing) and I can’t sew to save my life.

I suppose I am a true academic. Reading and obsessing over knowledge of things I will never have the skill to do.

Then, the Teenager found “her box” on the doorstep, her third fix from Stitch Fix!!!! So we opened that bad boy.

I think The Teenager is disappointed that her box doesn’t have more flare, but the staples she receives is really improving her day to day look. As a dog walker, I am now seeing her in these Stitch Fix selections as a way that she can maintain comfort and still look put together.

If you watch the YouTube review, you’ll see more of The Teenager in what she calls her new “math teacher sweater.” It’s a keeper. It’s about 16 hours after she received it and she’s still wearing it. Stay tuned to see if I steal her shoes and keep them.

Later in the day, I had an interview with David Figueroa of David’s Cerebral Palsy and Fitness Channel. I have explored his YouTube content and I listen to his podcast. I am working hard to take charge of my aging process and I hope my message of the importance of strength training and my approach to medical advocacy resonate with people.

We talked for an hour and a half. I’ve included a link to his YouTube channel below. Let’s hope the chaos of my house wasn’t too distracting! But one disruption I welcomed was the motorcycle that passed by while I was talking about my father.

I ended up sleeping more than nine hours last night, and woke up this morning covered in cats. I hope your time-change-hour served you as well as mine did. Here’s a photo of me with the fosters, and it’s blurry because I took it without my glasses.

The celebratory and the reflective

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

My neighbor and the pet mama of my favorite little dog, Sobaka, had a birthday yesterday and her 700th Peleton ride. Another friend had a birthday Thursday and by happenstance I had that podiatrist appointment in her town and stopped to see her. She insisted I had to have done it on purpose, but I am terrible with birthdays. I know they are coming. I make plans days in advance but somehow, they slip by without me recognizing them.

The Teenager decided to take the bull by the horns and go shopping for our neighbor’s birthday and collected all of her favorites: Diet Coke in 20 ounce bottles, Cheez-Its and various flavors and sizes of M&M chocolates. It’s something the teenager learned from the maternal side of our family, because when my mother runs out of ideas for what to buy someone she either finds something completely ridiculous (like the whole chicken in a can that she bought my husband for Christmas one year) or stocks up on their everyday favorites. (The chicken in a can stemmed from my husband’s love of chocolate pudding in a can. Things escalated from there.) It’s like a care package, but more festive.

Now Sobaka turned eight this week so The Teenager also bought a corresponding gift bag for the dog. With extra tissue paper as Baki loves tissue paper, some treats and some little stuffed toys Baki will probably ignore because she’s too hoity toity to play.

My family has lived in this neighborhood for 20 years. Some of my neighbors have lived here their whole lives, like Little Dog’s Birthday Girl Mom and my neighbor to the right who cuts my lawn every time he cuts his. Most of my neighbors have been here as long as I have, and so we have adopted an informal mascot of the Flamingo and have the occasional girls night.

The Teenager is very excited to be old enough to attend. Last night was the Flamingo Birthday party. I was very very much looking forward to it, and very excited to share the slow progression of my service dog application with my neighbors. Very excited also to see what cocktails would be served as this particular host does not disappoint. (I ended up with a Jack Daniels canned cocktail of lemonade and honey whiskey, delicious.)

I suspected this was a recipe for disaster, but was so looking forward to relaxing with neighbors and laughing after a hard week. I had been up since 3 a.m., worked almost a full day with odd results on my metrics, went to the gym at 5 p.m. and inadvertently skipped dinner. The party started at 7, but I opted to wait for The Teenager to get home from work at 7:30 pm.

I’m skipping around chronology here, but my brain was doing this same jumps for much of the day, fatigue leaving me not quite here nor there. When I left for the gym at 4:40 — it’s about a 10 minute walk — I discovered a package from my stepmother’s business.

How honest should I be? This package struck fear into my heart. I didn’t want to open it. But I had to open it. I haven’t heard from anyone in my family for months and it seems like some people in it are getting harder to get a hold of, but I know rationally it’s a busy time of year and we’re all still recovering from the loss of our patriarch and trying to figure out how to fill that void. So of course I open the large but light box.

There is a beautiful card inside with a thoughtful inscription from my stepmother. She had a quilt made for me of my dad’s things. I cried. Because this week has been hard for me and I’ve been trying to hide just how hard and wishing I had my dad to listen and make me laugh. And not many people other than my mother and I would care, but Tuesday was my parents’ wedding anniversary.

I almost carried the bulky blanket with me to the gym because I didn’t want to put it down. Luckily, the Teenager got home in the knick of time to take it away from me.

We did a fantastic upper body workout at the gym, with some core exercises that used the legs which I very much needed. I had skipped Wednesday’s workout not knowing the source of the nerve pain. The workout pushed my arms and stretched out my extended person, who was very stiff.

Once I made it to the party, I sat by the fire pit in the yard (wearing the Teenager’s Stitch Fix mock leather jacket because I didn’t want to fight the kittens in my room to get my very stylish jean jacket) sipping my cocktail. I had rejected my first seat because the Adirondack chair made my back and hip very uncomfortable. All day my right lower back muscle had been straining oddly, and I thought maybe the cortisone shot in my foot had caused me to move my body differently.

We moved into the house for ring bologna, cheese, pretzels and chocolate-on-chocolate cake. If you are looking for me in the photo, I am second from the left with the Teenager beside me. My exhaustion kicked in high gear. The Teenager had to leave for work at 8:45 p.m., another overnight dog-owning client, so I thought it best to follow her home. Which, for the record, is across the street.

Now, I attend these parties barefoot as long as the weather allows. The Teenager and I leave the house, descend the front stairs, and reach the sidewalk. I think I took two steps on the old sidewalk and I lost my balance. Badly. Tried to regain my footing and couldn’t. I fell onto the Teenager who allowed me to ricochet off her without budging. Like a mighty tree.

And then she looked down and said, “You okay? You getting up or are you dead?”

If you don’t live with someone clumsy or someone with a condition like cerebral palsy prone to these kind of incidents, you might find that cold and cruel. It’s not. It’s practical and allows me to retain some dignity as I collect myself. My daughter knows I don’t need fuss, that I’ll let you know when it’s time to panic. It might be a little later than it should be, but eventually I’ll let you know. We might stop at the Chinese Buffet with a broken ankle, but eventually I’ll end up at Urgent Care when I need it.

I knew I stubbed my toes and my palms and my elbow was screaming, but I was praising whatever entity was watching over me that I had the heavy jacket to protect my arms. My glasses were still on my face. My face never hit the cement. We were good. I just hoped the jacket had survived.

“It will make it look cooler,” the Teenager said.

I crossed the street and took inventory. My elbow was bleeding and was very tender to the touch. My other scrapes were inconsequential. I checked my phone for clues as to what might be happening.

Holy shit.

Let me just start my saying that even with the explanations offered by Apple and Google, I don’t understand exactly how to analyze double support time, walking steadiness and walking asymmetry as recorded by my phone. I look for patterns. I know my phone does not consider me a fall risk, so I rule that algorithm-based tool out as useless for me.

I know, in general, that when my asymmetry reaches 10% or more I tend to fall. This shows two spikes, one at 53% on the walk to the gym, and another at 58% on the way to my neighbor’s house. As best I understand, this means one foot is walking faster than the other. Did the cortisone shot make it so I can’t feel my foot enough to use it? Is this foot unable to keep up with the other? This idea terrifies me.

I cleaned up as best I could and collapsed in bed struggling to get comfortable with my elbow bothering me and my back hurting worse. My brain was calculating and worrying and fighting the downward spiral.

That’s where I’m at. Except I’m cuddled on the couch in my dad blanket.

Today was hard— my legs are twisting up

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I know I haven’t written in a while, in part because I felt redundant talking about my business endeavors at Parisian Phoenix. The Easton Book Festival was a lot of fun.

I took yesterday off, pretty much just for fun, and I ended up perusing the shows on Motor Trend’s streaming channel, heading to the gym and watching the neighborhood kids Trick-or-Treat.

When I got to Apex at 2 p.m. to meet up with my coach Andrew, he noticed my leg was twisting in. It had been, at that point, one week since my last chiropractor visit. I have my next visit tomorrow. I’m trying to stretch from every seven days to every ten.

So after a rugged leg day with Andrew, I went home and checked the measurements on my phone for my walking asymmetry. I haven’t had much recorded in the last few weeks.

But Andrew was right… The asymmetry measured 4%. I’m not sure what that means, but it does coincide with my legs malfunctioning.

I woke up with sore quads from leg day. And my whole work day was a struggle because my hip was out-of-whack and my legs felt heavy. And my middle toe on my right foot kept burning.

I finished the day at 85% and it was brutal. It’s difficult for me to straighten up. On the way hope, a pain filled my toes so badly it up my leg as my foot began to spasm. Felt like some sort of nerve pain.

The phone registered 9% asymmetry and I keep getting pains down my right leg that make it hard to stand.

I took off my sock and my toe closest to my big toe is red, maybe a pinch swollen, and very tender. The flesh almost felt like it might be developing a blister, but no indication that fluid is gathering and the red pattern seems to be jagged versus the round shape caused when something rubs. The dog did stomp on it yesterday with all her weight from a leap so maybe she damaged something inside.

I washed it well and soaked it in Epsom salt but no change.

My whole body is a mess.

So much to do and I want to binge watch Top Gear America

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

Today was my first Monday day shift at the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy. I worked second shift, then 10-hour shifts and now I have moved to Monday to Friday 6:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. After almost a year of 10-hours, 8-hours feels so short. And it feels like we’re always on break. And transitioning from a 15-minute break to a ten minute is disorienting to say the least.

After work yesterday, I went to the chiropractor, the amazing and dedicated Nicole Jensen of Back in Line Chiropractic and Wellness Center. I feel like she’s learned my body to the extent that it’s personal to her, the challenge of keeping my misconstructed extremities functioning. I think she has this zone she gets into, where she’s plotting a strategy and it’s her against me, well, the physical form of me.

I felt my body start to compensate for my hip falling out of place yesterday. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t even feel wrong, but I noticed elements of my posture changing. A little more protest from the right side, leaning that way more heavily, occasional back pain.

I don’t have the best understanding of mechanics or physics, so my brain is slowly clicking when it comes to considering my femoral anteversion, which means the head of my femurs sit in my hip sockets kinda facing the wrong way making my legs kinda face backwards I guess, makes my bones put pressure on the socket at the wrong angle pushing it out of place? Maybe?

And me, either being a trooper or an idiot, did a 8-hour work shift on a Monday, where I performed at 95%, went to the chiropractor and then visited Andrew, my also amazing and dedicated coach at Apex Training. I think I scowled at him more than usual. The work out was brutal and ended with… what did he call them… offset dumbbell rows? Imagine kneeling on the bench and doing a dumbbell row with a 20 or 25 lb weight while holding the other leg up in the air.

Meanwhile, I reached out to David from The Cerebral Palsy and Fitness Podcast and asked if my discovery and fitness journey would be something of interest for his show, and he said yes. I also updated Andrew Gurza of Disability After Dark Podcast about my upcoming “Sex in the Text” panel at the Easton Book Festival. We had recorded an episode in June, but my parakeet (may he rest in peace, that might be what reminded me of the interview) made so much noise, we hope to rerecord an interview in November.

That’s fine with me, as so much has happened since June: my service dog application, new physical struggles and this “Sex in the Text” program for Easton Book Festival among them. I’m lagging behind on my preparations, which means I’ve been scanning my Fashion and Fiends novels for sex and jotting notes about themes, goals and techniques.

But then, my new computer Midnight came with a free trial of Apple TV, which made it ridiculously easy to subscribe to a free trial of Motor Trend‘s streaming channel. Why on God’s green Earth would I as someone with no understanding of physics or mechanics need Motor Trend? Three words: Top Gear America. It’s the only way to see Top Gear America featuring Dax Shepard and cars.

I don’t think it’s readily apparent from this blog, but I adore cars. If I had any sort of skill with tinkering, I would be more hands-on, but I am useless. But, I can still drive and appreciate cars. And I certainly admire and appreciate Dax Shepard from more than one angle. I just want to watch every available episode (there are two seasons available) and forget about the rest of the universe.

Which right now is tempting… because the episode on the Lamborghini, Bentley and Porsche SUVs had me laughing out loud. I started the hot rod episode but pried myself away for what ended up being a very trouble night of sleep. Bad dreams and body pain, to the point where I was up for an hour from midnight to 1 a.m., debating whether to pull the laptop into bed. I, instead, smeared my back and hips with CBD arthritis cream and drifted away into another uneasy three hours of sleep.

So much to do before the book festival, but the cars… and the Dax… call to me.

Do I have the strength to be the lone voice of a group?

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Last fall, at work, before we even suspected they were eliminating our shift at the warehouse, our company launched what they called communities to represent and discuss certain voices across our network.

Black Lives Matter, Latinx and women were three of the communities— as was a community for people with disabilities.

I joined the community for employees with disabilities, but at the launch Zoom meeting I noticed everyone either worked in the office or worked from home. And no one represented the warehouses, but me.

The community had meetings during my work shifts, and the emails seemed focused on neurological and psychological diagnoses. And while those conditions are important and probably impact more of our population in the company than physical disabilities.

I had a brief conversation about this with my boss today as I had mentioned this flaw in the communities when one of my colleagues asked the CEO why warehouse associates across the network couldn’t have more on-the-clock time to contribute to the communities.

This same fellow employee— a member of the Black Lives Matter group— launched a series of Lunch and Learns to promote more involvement in these communities.

She came to my work station to ask me to come.

My boss said he would be there to represent Latinx. When I told him I registered, he replied, “sweet.”

But, what I realized in discussing this with him, was that people with disabilities probably don’t apply for jobs in warehouses. Because we’ve been conditioned to believe we can’t or shouldn’t do it.

That’s why we don’t have more representation in the warehouse. So while I want to know what plans the company has to accommodate people of different abilities, the reality is we need to determine what people with disabilities can do in the warehouse without impacting overall productivity.

But the next question is: am I really the best person to represent this issue? Do I have a choice?

When success means you think someone is trying to kill you

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

During one of my recent doctor visits, I think it was at the end of August, my physician asked how my strength/fitness personal training sessions were going.

I told him my coach Andrew at Apex Training put me through some demanding stuff so I was in agony pretty often.

My doctor laughed and said that if Andrew was doing his job well I should hate him.

Well, today was the closest I ever came to thinking he might kill me.

Now, if you are new here, please note I have diplegic cerebral palsy (which basically means that my brain and my lower body muscles don’t communicate well, which has led to some structural issues in my hips, legs, etc.

I work out three-times-a-week: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Andrew has his full-time job, which is primarily an overnight shift, and I work at a warehouse Sunday through Wednesday, 10-hour-shifts.

Mondays are always interesting. I am 50% through my workweek and Andrew is usually sleep-deprived.

By some miracle, I work 6:30 am to 5 pm and head straight to the gym, and Andrew comes to the gym, often having not slept for almost 24 hours. But he shows up and so do I.

Tonight was a full body workout that felt twice as intense as my normal routine, but it felt amazing to push myself and even more amazing to succeed.

And because Andrew knows what I’m feeling — not only as a person working to better myself physically but also as someone still grieving the loss of her father— he forgave me for eating half a cake for my dad’s birthday.

But I also asked him if some people had stopped working out three times a week. He say yes, that several of his clients were sporadic. One changed work schedules and hadn’t committed to a new time. And two of us were regulars.

I get life being in the way. I know it’s hard. I know it’s expensive.

But I encourage you to stick to it.

I started at Apex in August 2021. Somehow despite a tight budget, I find the money.

And for all those people who can’t stick with it— I promise:

  • You will see mental and physical changes in yourself.
  • You will feel better.
  • Your body composition will change.
  • Your fortitude will grow.

And you should also see changes in your balance, stability and coordination. The things you can do, whether stamina on a long walk or moving furniture, will improve. Your confidence should increase.

And some days it will feel grueling. Some days you will be exhausted or achy and not want to do it. On those days, tell your trainer how you feel, but show up for the workout and do your best.

It feels like a new level of training

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Andrew, my strength and fitness coach at Apex Training, has reached new levels of sadism.

I said that (partially) in jest because I love to see his face get that pensive squint when he’s digesting my regular updates of how my body feels and what my other professionals report about its function.

I feel like since my finger recovered from my burst tendon, I’ve reached new heights in stamina and my own strength. Last week, I hit a PR (personal record) with a 35-lb dumbbell row.

And things just feel like they are moving better. I’ve stumbled more than usual, but caught my balance 90 % of the time. I have less pain and I think I understand the pain better.

I’m working out three times a week and doing movements, with support Andrew has designed, like split leg squats that are torture (in a good way) and that I never thought I could do. I even work out after my ten-hour shifts at the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy warehouse.

It’s hard, and exhausting, but I really think it helps get blood flow into all my aching parts and aids my sleep and ultimate recovery.

And today Andrew let me beat the big tire with a mace.

Speaking of Stitch Fix, the company has opted to move the Sunday to Wednesday 10-hour cohort. We get to choose which of the remaining shifts we want to transfer to and I’ll be putting in for the remaining 10-hour cohort, Wednesday to Saturday.

Frankly, the idea of working 5 days a week is horrifying. And I’m not thrilled with the prospect of losing my current shift.

But a warm gluten-free brownie sundae with Ben & Jerry’s cannoli ice cream softened the blow.

PS —

I put my underwear on backwards today. All day I kept wondering why my underpants felt so uncomfortable.

Things that make me happy… I must be old

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

So someone I know, who shall remain nameless unless she outs herself, tagged me in this Facebook post:

She invited me to consider it, which I would if it weren’t two hours every Friday for six weeks.

Speaking of falls, the teenager asked for some bathroom toiletry storage devices so I bought these:

The wall-mounted shelf is ridiculously sturdy. All came from Target.com.

I “treated” myself to some grip-circles to reduce the likelihood of falling. And they are pretty.

The sight of everything organized made me happy. As did dinner.

Dinner was Banza chickpea rotini with Hungryroot Alfredo sauce, fresh spinach, my homemade roasted tomatoes from the farm and chicken bruschetta burgers broken into “meatballs.”