Tag disability

Road Trip: Ephrata and the Cloisters

Angel Ackerman 4 Comments

Yesterday, my friend Gayle and I embarked on an adventure. I wanted to motivate myself toward more movement and healthier living and Gayle enjoys visiting new towns via self-guided walks designed by local clubs of the American Volkssporting Association. Gayle has wanted to hit the Ephrata, Pa., walk (which is about 90 minutes away from our homes) and I love a day trip. The walk is maintained by the Susquehanna Rovers.

Gayle packed lunch. I packed sunscreen. I even tossed some electrolyte powders packets in my bag, knowing it would be a sunny summer day. I took my muscle relaxers.

Off we went.

The background

Now, as someone with a mobility disability (cerebral palsy, spastic diplegia), I suspected– or perhaps even knew– that this would end with some sort of injury or discomfort. I had hoped that having this walk, a 5K by design, would motivate me to get away from my desk and wander around the neighborhood.

That didn’t happen. I could blame the heat wave, but in reality, I doubt I would have changed my behavior even if the weather were nice.

In the end, I said to myself, “Anyone can walk a 5K.”

And in one respect, I was correct. I did it. On the other hand, it was stupid. And I’m suffering because of it. But that’s getting ahead of myself.

I wanted to use this walk to see how my movement was in a more long-term commitment. I wanted to test my breathing and my heart rate. I suspect a lot of my health issues will not resolve until I lose at least 20, if not 30, or even 35 pounds (at which point I ask myself– how did I gain this much weight so quickly?)

So this walk would help me evaluate my true status and make health-related goals.

That was my logic. Was it a tad reckless? Maybe, maybe not.

The Walk

Ephrata has a lovely main street, historic buildings and apparently monuments– none of which we saw because the 5K was mostly through residential neighborhoods. And we missed a turn somewhere and ended up shaving off about a half mile. Our time for our 2.8 mile 5K was about 31 minutes a mile, and we periodically stopped to enjoy the shade, look at weird buildings, and sometimes cuss about hills.

AVA walks are rated, and this was a 1B which means it was supposed to be easy, with sidewalks and the occasional hill. But if you looked at the “fine print,” the walk was rated “medium” for strollers and “hard” for wheelchairs. I think for the foreseeable future Gayle and I need 1A walks that are easy for wheelchairs.

So here’s my analysis of what we saw in Ephrata on the 5K:

  • A gnome garden. I like this tiered design of outdoor knick knacks. I’m not sure what sense it makes, but it seems like a concept the no-longer-a-Teenager would embrace.

  • A neighborhood egg stand, that was closed.

  • The strangest “double” homes I’ve ever seen. The walk took us through an entire neighborhood of attached, split-level homes. I own “half a double,” and some neighborhoods in my area are row homes that expand an entire block. But I have never seen neighborhoods like these. I fail to understand the logic. There are two reasons to “attach” homes– one is to lower the cost by sharing a wall, and the second is to squeeze more people into a smaller space.

These homes have the space to be detached. They are on suburban lots. So, if you are going to invest in a suburban home, why would you want (or even accept?) being attached to your neighbor. There were also attached ranch homes, with the same concept, but just without the extra stories. And some had a strange shared doorway in the middle, like a breezeway, so they were both attached and detached.

  • We did see a lot of great distant views. Mountains in the distance. Clear skies.

  • One of the first things we encountered was the Anne Brossman Sweigert Charitable Foundation, with a family sculpture out front and a sign engraved on a grave marker. (They also have not updated their website in almost 10 years according to the “grant history” tab.) Why did they place their sign on a grave marker? So it didn’t blow away? Fade?

Around the two-mile mark, we realized we had missed the turn and reached our threshold for the residential tour, and ironically, we ended up taking a street parallel to the main drag back to the hotel where the walk-box is stored.

Interlude: Early in the walk, I noticed my right leg was pulling in toward my left leg. So, minding my fitness and strength coach’s advice, I led with my knees to make sure I wouldn’t end up tripping over my own legs due to my knees facing inward. I tried stretching, to see if I could get my hips and thighs to move more outwardly, but I couldn’t come up with the right movement.

Nothing hurt, but damn everything was tight, and my legs fought me with every step. By the time we climbed the hill and stairs by the hotel, my back was starting to feel the stress. My legs didn’t want to lift. So I made it to the car and popped another muscle relaxer.

Step count: about 8,500

The Ephrata Cloister

We went to Ephrata Cloister, driving down the main drag and wondering why the walk couldn’t have shown us all these lovely local businesses and perhaps led us to a cafe where we could have rested. We had a savory-and-sweet vegan chickpea and carrot salad with a side of grapes for lunch. From there we headed into the gift shop.

At the gift shop, I found an impressive collection of wood crafts, paper folding kits for Moravian Stars, quilted cards, replacement ink for quills, Amish novels and a nice selection of Pennsylvania Dutch nonfiction books.

The no-longer-a-Teenager is mostly Pennsylvania Dutch on her father’s side. One paternal great-grandfather was Welsh, but all of her other paternal great-grandparents were Pennsylvania Dutch. Her paternal grandmother’s father spoke Pennsylvania Dutch (Leroy Buss) as his first language, learning English at the one-room schoolhouse he entered at age five. I would have loved to buy her a Pennsylvania Dutch to English dictionary or Superstitions and Folklore of the Pennsylvania Dutch, but the budget did not allow.

We visited the museum where we learned that the Cloister was a spiritual community with roots in Germany that came to Pennsylvania, just like the Quakers and the Moravians, in the early 18th century for religious freedom.** They had strict beliefs and practices, one of which was celibacy so it became impossible to keep the community alive. (The “householders” later became the German Seventh Day Baptist Church. Householders were the families on neighboring farms who supported the community and their religious beliefs without going all in on the celibacy, vegetarianism, and sleeping on a wooden block disciplines.)

We also saw a really long glass horn.

** 1720. That’s more than FIFTY YEARS before the Revolutionary War.

The tour

Gayle and I like to support local history and nonprofits, and who doesn’t love the story of a good old colonial cult. So, we embarked on the tour.

First, we watched a really information-packed but poorly acted and filmed movie. You can watch it online here. (This was where Gayle thought she lost her phone and I got a text from a client who needed me to do something later that day.) We were told the tour was 45 minutes to an hour long, depending how many questions people had, and that we should be on our way at 3 p.m., 3:15 p.m. at the latest.

Gayle was hoping the tour would send us all over the grounds walking from building to building. I was suddenly starting to hurt and could barely stand. Neither of us voiced what we were thinking to the other.

“You’ll love the tour guide,” the volunteer at the desk said. “He’s really knowledgeable and passionate.”

Our tour guide took ten minutes to get us out the door because already other members of the tour were asking stupid questions covered by the movie we had just watched. We walked out to the middle of the yard, not even a half acre away where the tour guide announced we had reached the village.

We stood outside for a long time, at first talking about architecture, then the idiots with us had to debate how old the trees might be, and whether they were “original.” I was mesmerized the whole time by a man who looked very Mennonite/new order Amish/”Dutchy.” You don’t think the Pennsylvania Dutch have certain genetic “looks,” but they do.

Now, somewhere around this time, it became difficult to know when the tour guide was telling us historical fact, and when he was expounding on his own “theories” (his word). He talked a lot about significance of numbers, how the triangle formed by the Village served as a reminder of our path to God, and the powers of the mystics. This is where I, as a journalist and a historian, started to get annoyed. He provided no proof of the sources of his ideas. (Here are some of the official lectures on the topics.)

We stood in the main living area of what became the Sister’s House. Eventually we ended up in the Meeting Room. We were *locked in* the building, so strangers who had not purchased the tour could not wander in. I know this because the Dutchy man needed to leave and he could not without interrupting the tour.

I faded in and out of the door mentally because my legs were hurting at about an eight. When we left the meeting room and entered the add-on kitchen, I was ready to fight the sweet little old ladies for a space on the small bench. My heartrate had been soaring since we started the tour (130s when standing and 110 when seated) probably in response to the pain. There was room for all of us.

Interior of the Meeting House (saal, meaning “room.”)

At this point, my plan was to sneak out of the tour when he let us out of the building and to tell Gayle to take her time as I would sit outside and read my book. But it turned out the tour was only to this building.

Our tour guide unlocked the door at 3:40 p.m.

The repercussions

By the time I went to bed, my pain levels had reached a nine. They are between a six and seven today and I’m taking it easy. I think my body has forgotten how to walk. As a person who deals with spasticity, which means my muscles in my legs never relax, I have a theory. This is the first long walk I’ve taken probably in years, certainly since I started taking muscle relaxers. It’s the first long walk I’ve taken since I started fitness training with Andrew, and even more certainly, the first I’ve taken since he had to pause our sessions several months ago. And I sit at a desk now, 8-10 hours a day, seven days a week, and walk 3,500 to 5,000 steps a day.

So, sure I overdid it.

But I still maintain that I have never moved the way I moved yesterday. I fried my adductors.

Hard to believe for several months from 2020-2021 I was a picker in the Stitch Fix warehouse where I walked miles and miles and miles every night, five days a week.

For more about this trip and some discussion of books, printing and those arts at the Cloisters, see ParisianPhoenix.com.

People and Dogs: Come on, where’s the common sense?

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

If you don’t know, my daughter– The Teenager about to turn 20– works in the pet care industry, primarily doing dog walks and in-home pet care visits. She is also a dog trainer, and spends a lot of time and energy studying dogs, observing dog body language and finding solutions to people’s problems with their dogs.

She is the one who encouraged me to apply for a service dog, and although I grew up with dogs, she has taught me so much about dogs and why they do what they do.

Her dog, F. Bean Barker, who, will be four this summer, can be reactive and territorial. The Teenager has worked very hard to decrease her dog’s reactivity and expose the dog to situations to improve her tolerance. Today, we took her to a dog park. The dog park is less than two miles away from our home and off-the-beaten path so it’s not as well-traveled as some other local places. It has a lot of green area to explore even outside of the dog park. So, if the dog park is occupied, there is other stuff to do.

This dog park has two sides, one for dogs 25 pounds and under, the other for dogs larger than 25 pounds. Each side has a double gate system, so you can enter the first enclosed room and make sure your dog is ready to enter the other side without risking releasing any dogs already in the park. (In this dog park, there is also a gate between the two sides.)

Now, if you do not have a dog or if you have a rural dog who has no need of a dog park, you may not understand that dog parks can be extremely dangerous. You never know how other people’s dogs will react, and you can find that certain dogs have behaviors that can unnerve the most calm and pleasant dog. Owners often don’t keep close enough control over their dogs inside the park, believing the environment is contained and safe. But just like two normally well-behaved children can suddenly behave like cold-hearted killers on a public playground, dogs can change in this unfamiliar and potentially unmonitored environment.

We know Bean is a good dog, well-trained with a recall, but that she often has a hard time with other dogs especially if they aren’t appropriately socialized. Now, even if you think your dog is “good with other dogs” or “well-socialized,” you may not understand dog body language or stress signals to know how well your dog is doing in a new situation.

Knowing this, we brought plenty of our dog’s favorite treats, put her in a harness and on a prong collar and tucked a can of “pet corrector” into our gear. When we arrived at the dog park, one adult and one child had two small dogs running the entire expanse of both sides of the dog park. The Teenager decided not to engage and walked the dog around the human passive recreation trails.

The family soon left, taking their two small dogs off leash through the parking lot and leaving every gate in the dog park open— the two entering the small dog park AND the interior. That means if someone had entered the large dog park, appropriately, the large dog could have run into the small dog side and exited into the busy parking lot. Really?

Needless to say, this dog grandmother went through and checked every gate before Bean and The Teenager entered.

I sat under the pavilion and watched while Bean and The Teenager explored.

I was technically lookout, because The Teenager had removed Bean’s leash and if another dog came The Teenager wanted enough time to leash her dog and make sure Bean was under control, or at least, obedient.

I looked up from my book (Hunter’s Shea’s Manrattan which I am enjoying very much) and there was an unattended mastiff with no leash standing outside the gate. The Teenager already had Bean outside the dog park and releashed. So, we left.

The owner of the mastiff strolled leisurely to the gate, while his unleashed dog just had free reign. Why don’t people have common sense???

Dogs in public should be leashed. It’s a law. I don’t care how well-behaved your dog is– if it is attacked or frightened, it will end up in a fight. Even the best dog in the world would defend itself in a fight, so regardless of how the fight starts, both dogs could be injured or killed.

And, as someone on a wait-list for a service dog, it angers me to see how many people don’t understand why certain laws exist regarding where dogs can go and how they should be handled. A dog masquerading as a service dog in a store for example not only might create a bad example for real service dogs, but if it is not trained properly it could attack or spook another animal (or a person or a service dog). A service dog that encounters poorly-managed and badly trained animals in public could be attacked or spooked in such a way that it might not be able to do its job, creating a financial and practical hardship for the disabled person relying on that dog.

So please, leash and control your dogs as the laws ask you to do.

The little weird lucky things

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Yesterday ended up being a strange day. Strange in happy ways, I guess, and I’m afraid I don’t have any photos to accompany this post. But you will see some familiar characters.

I went to visit Nan in the morning. She’s been having some technology failures and is trying to rescue her remaining files from her Braille N Speak. Her current model is dying. So we did some dictation to save some items.

Then, I stopped at CVS. I thought I had $5, $3 and $2 in Extra Bucks with one of them expiring that day, but my phone only showed $3, $2 and $0.04. I went back to the pharmacy window and to pick up my allergy medicine. This spring has been awful for me.

The tech who served me, I had never seen her before, and she saw my $35 tab and suggested I try GoodRX. She found it for $17.24 (which happened to be my house number growing up, see previous post. I like numbers). So she saved me twenty bucks!

I meandered through the store looking for snacks, as my cupboard is bare. I noticed notebooks on clearance for 90 percent off. I texted The Teenager to ask if she could use them or if I brought them home would she just hoard them… She said she would hoard them until the start of next semester.

I got her return text as I was standing near the Nature Valley Granola bars. CVS had a couple varieties on sale for $1.99 a box. I grabbed two boxes of peanut butter biscuits. That and some notebooks (five) at 45 cents each came out to $1.17 after my $3, $2, and $0.04. But at the register, I noticed my $5 off coupon that I couldn’t see on my phone. So I paid, and went back into the store and found my favorite KIND breakfast bars for $2 off. After my $5, that came out to $0.99.

In the afternoon, I visited my neurosurgeon to follow up on my aneurysm. And read the results of my MRA in early May. I got a parking spot right outside the door! At the hospital complex! THAT never happens!

I arrived early, hoping to read more of my nonfiction marketing book that is getting on my nerves. They took me back early. And the doctor showed up early! I was out of the office start to finish in less than 30 minutes, which was only 15 minutes past my original appointment time. And good news– what looked like an aneurysm behind my left eye according to the CT scan did not show up on the MRA.

Then I met Southern Candy at a local park and in the evening, The Teenager, the neighbor and I took Little Dog for ice cream after a dental and having some teeth pulled.

Almost like a vacation

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

This year’s Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group THE WRITE STUFF Conference came and went in a flurry of excitement and camaraderie (in the middle of Mercury retrograde to boot). I gave myself Sunday off–and swore I would stay in bed all day watching Grey’s Anatomy, which didn’t happen, in part because I started reading books and talking to my authors and associates at Parisian Phoenix Publishing about the conference.

I attended all three days of the conference, as I am president of the group, and I treated myself to a hotel room at the venue Friday night so I could stay and enjoy the social. My friend William Prystauk and I keep saying we’re going to book a hotel room and sit at our laptops all weekend, so I invited him to join me. I figured we could have a nice dinner between events and catch up.

Yes, you read that correctly. We are writers, after all, so we want to book a hotel room and hide from the world at our keyboards.

Some history… and notes for memoir.

Anyway… last year’s GLVWG conference happened not long after I was released from the hospital after the scariest series of falls in my life. (If you’d like to read more about that, you can read it here. I have to say, I was reviewing it this morning, 13 months later, and my sense of humor amazes me. This was the second fall I had last March, the first of which happened at work on the first day of Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month. That fall is memorialized here.)

(One of the sessions I attended at this year’s conference was Jordan Sonnenblick’s session on memoir writing. I have known Jordan for 20 years and I did not know he wrote memoirs, but it turns out this is a recent turn of events so then I felt better. What I find fascinating about Jordan’s memoirs is that he writes them like his middle-grade fiction, but with his as a protagonist. I bring this up because one of his techniques for recreating his past was to map the scars on his body. I finished The Boy Who Failed Show and Tell last night, and I reviewed it on Goodreads. Some people classified the book as historical fiction and slammed Jordan for “promoting toxic masculinity” — as if in 1978 there was a universe without toxic masculinity.)

Joan & Bill at work

Last year, the conference occurred during the same weekend as The Lehigh Valley Book Festival, where I had volunteered, but I was nervous to attend the event, alone, after so many medical incidents. Joan asked me to be her photography assistant and so I did. This year, Bill ended up working as her assistant since he was in the building anyway. Joan provides author headshots at the event for a $40 charge. It’s a bargain, and the photos have many versatile uses that I don’t think writers consider.

So this year’s conference had not only a great conference line-up, but many of my friends milling about as extras. And I had the naive idea that I might have time to connect with some old friends I hadn’t seen in a while and connect with some new folks. That did not happen.

A hotel with history

Bill left work a little before 5 p.m. to meet me at the hotel. My daughter had stopped by at 4 p.m. at the end of the workshop with Jonathan Maberry to have him sign her battered copy of Rot and Ruin. We are slowly collecting the whole series, as the last books of the series seem to be harder to find. We currently have books one through three of the series, and I have ordered four and five, but I’m not sure I have the Texas bits…

The Teenager with Jonathan Maberry

A bunch of conference attendees and presenters were meeting at the hotel restaurant for a light dinner before the evening events and the social. I encouraged as many as possible to line up in a big, long table that we kept adding squares to the bottom. Bill arrived in time to join us.

Now, here’s where things get very interesting from a writer’s perspective. More than a decade ago, during one of my previous incarnations as the group’s president, we used to flip-flop between the current hotel and the one by the airport. Both were mid-range hotels with plenty of space for a large keynote and enough smaller rooms for break-out sessions. As prices would go up, we would pit the two hotels against each other and the venue that gave us the best deal won.

I’ve been away from the group for almost a dozen years, and a pandemic happened which made the conference virtual only for a while, and now we are building up the GLVWG conference game again, last year with Maria V. Snyder and this year with Maberry.

The hotel though has seen better days, in part because for more than a year now the owner of the land has submitted a proposal to the township to knock down the hotel and build a warehouse. As a consequence, the maintenance on this octopus of a hotel (the floor plan has arms jutting out everywhere) has been minimal.

Jordan Sonnenblick said his wedding used the venue in 1994, and nothing has changed since then. Well, except the name. I think that hotel changes names every other year. The toilets run and/or have low water pressure. Some areas of the hotel smell like “weed and old people” as The Teenager puts it. The restaurant is small. The food is limited. The coffee is terrible. And while the staff is delightful and they keep the place clean and functioning, there were a lot of small but important mishaps probably due to being understaffed. The parking lot is always full of trucks and there’s what appears to be a much nicer Hampton Inn right next door.

But amidst all of this– Bill knew the bartender from earlier in the hotel’s history and apparently she makes good drinks. So after dinner, we stayed for a beverage and heard from a staff member that they have been told the hotel is closing for good in December 2024. We shall see.

The Social

William Prystauk, Marie Lamba, Dianna Sinovic, Jonathan Maberry, & Jordan Sonnenblick

From there, we moved down to the social. Mark Twain was kind enough to visit and I noticed a lot of people in literary cosplay.

I had a lovely time surrounded by friends and some of my favorite writers.

Jonathan Maberry at his table at the keynote luncheon

[I had intended this blog entry to be about my personal life, but I didn’t quite get there. I wanted to at least mention my OVR planning session yesterday. Better luck next time I guess.

PS–I still don’t like Grey’s Anatomy, and with every episode that passes I like Meredith Grey less and less. And I was so excited to get to Derek Shepherd’s death. But man– the whole arc of Meredith disappearing for a year to have another baby. So dumb.

And I cannot believe how you never see the kids, and Meredith never has any paid help, but yet she’s raising three kids as a single mom. And Alex just sells her her house back because it’s important to her to be at home and not in her family house.

Meredith is a spoiled, entitled brat who thanks to her past traumas believes she can behave however she wants and rules don’t apply to her.]

Never a good idea to perform CPR on oneself

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I have been staring at this blank screen for two days– staring at nothing but a title. Yes, the one you see up there.

As many of you already know I am a perpetual fall risk.

I have been trying for about two years to study and track when I fall. I have monitored the effects of my blood pressure, my allergies and even sodium, and now upon looking at the fall data from my Apple Watch I suspect hormones and the full moon may have an impact. Like the ocean and the tides, I suppose.

Sunporch as a cat haven

It has been almost a year since I bought this Apple Watch and it has been a year, a week and a couple days since I was last discharged from the hospital– my first ever hospitalization for a fall.

On Sunday, I went out to my sunporch, and a cat had vomited on one of my new chairs so I went to clean it. And after scrubbing the cat vomit out of the chair, I went to throw it into the garbage can that we keep on the porch as part of our package opening station.

Now, this is where I understand but I don’t understand. I knew and saw that the metal supports for one of the dog’s place-stay platforms were in front of the garbage can. Somehow, I caught my foot on it (Can we blame cerebral palsy or could it have happened to anyone?) and I tripped. Unable to catch my balance, I fell.

Sunporch last Christmas

I landed with my hands in fists against my sternum, as if giving CPR to myself. I landed on a large block of stone that forms the step to my front door. The edge of the stone block hit underneath my breasts at the spot where a bra band should be, but I was in my pajamas.

I knocked my elbow pretty badly (it’s bruised and bumpy) and I cut my leg and bruised my foot. But that blow to my chest– my full body weight– knocked the wind out of me. I walked into the house slowly and somehow ended up on the floor curled up against the dishwasher crying in pain as I pulled up my pajamas to see if I had any visible damage.

I did not.

But it hurt. It left my nerves shaken as these falls often do and it was VERY uncomfortable to sleep that night. I woke up in the morning curled up on my side so I took that as a good sign. It hurt mildly to stretch my arms or cough or laugh, but all-in-all I felt okay.

Today, I woke up feeling worse. I put on a workout top that supports everything so the weight of my breasts doesn’t add more discomfort. But it definitely hurts worse. And walking is uncomfortable. Walking fast enough and long enough to increase my breathing often makes me stop and wait.

On top of all that, I got on a scale today. I’ve gained another 10 pounds. I wish I could say I didn’t know how that was possible. But I know. I can’t believe I’ve gained another 10 pounds in about three weeks.

So I went back to calorie counting today. And more importantly nutrient and macro “counting.”

Hopefully tomorrow will be less painful– because I have a job interview for a little something that might fit nicely into my life.

The follow-up and the next fall

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Yesterday, I visited my primary care physician. He was thrilled because my blood pressure has stayed at 100-110/70 for the last six months. I am disappointed that my weight has not budged.

Around the last snow storm, I noticed my sinus troubles got so bad that only a day of Sudafed would stop my sneezing (see more here or via the publishing company’s Substack newsletter here) and that since then the mild lightheadness and congestion have not abated. And since I took a flying leap out the warehouse door March 1, 2023 and following that with stair acrobatics at home March 13, I had to ask my doctor– could my sinuses be contributing to my fall risk more than we realize?

So, he changed up my allergy medicine to move me from OTC remedies to prescription medication.

I also mentioned that my heart rate has been stable, even when I have no caffeine or overindulge in the stuff, and that salt has a strong effect on my heart and my weight. But I was no closer to keeping my heart rate under control first thing in the morning.

He asked me to tweak my beta blocker routine to take it before I get out of bed in the morning. And to be completely attentive to it at night. For a month, I am to take both half-pill doses as close to 7 o’clock as possible to see if that prevents my heart rate from jumping from 60 to 80 when I sit up, and then from having another jump from 80 to 100 when I stand. If that balances out my heart rate, he may move me to an extended release medication to maintain my heart rate. Especially since I have a small aneurysm in my brain.

The new allergy medicine he put me on– shifting me from Zyrtec and Flonase to prescription strength Claritin and Nasonex– was ready at my pharmacy by dinner time last night.

“It’s a preferred medication of your insurance,” my doctor said, “so it shouldn’t cost you too much.”

So, the teenager and I took the dog on a walk to CVS this morning where the generics of these two medications, for a one-month supply, cost $93. I know my Zyrtec and Flonase probably cost similar– but I never pay full-price. I use coupons and extra bucks and buy the generic, and on top of all that buy the twin pack and split it with my friend Nancy.

We walk home, and I don’t really complain about the price because I need to know if sinuses are increasing my fall risk and I want to know if I can reduce that risk so the investment is worth it.

On the way home, the dog was frolicking on a small hill, and she came trotting down to catch up with the teenager. She misjudged or maybe lost her footing and raced down the hill right at me, hit me in the legs and sent me flying. I landed on the sidewalk. My knee has a hearty scrape, my hands are sore, and my nervous system is done for the day.

Sometimes a random photo can make you smile

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Today was emotionally exhausting.

It’s been an emotionally hard week– in the anxiety-inducing way. Not in a bog panic attack way, but in the quiet worry eating you up inside way.

Tomorrow is Friday and out of my five goals I set for this week: I achieved one, ignored one, did the bare minimum on another, devoted 90% of my attention to the one and the final… Somehow, I forgot and thought I would do it tomorrow all at the same time.

So, I think tomorrow morning I’ll head over to Panera, have a good cup of coffee and force myself to do an hour of work on the project that I’ve been procrastinating and two hours-ish on the one I could have done more on.

I went grocery shopping yesterday. It’s probably not what everyday people consider grocery shopping but I went to Grocery Outlet and used their $5 off a $25 order coupon on $50 worth of groceries, half of which were for the Teenager who now has an ear infection after attending her first college fraternity party Friday night.

I snapped this photo while I was there because Stitch Fix always had these cookies in the breakroom and I got my trainer Andrew kind of hooked on them.

It felt good to at least get a few things into the house.

When I arrived home, I got the auto insurance bill last night and was shocked to learn my premium had gone up another 400– so that now for The Teenager and I it would cost $3785 for six months of car insurance.

This morning I had to call my former insurance carrier and see if they could beat the rate from my current one and they dropped it to less than half of what it was, though I took an increase in homeowners to do it but I now have better coverage. But that was a relief.

I also got a letter last night from OVR– the state Office of Vocational Services– confirming that I did indeed qualify for services and that I was classified as “most significantly disabled.” That’s merely a classification among the disabled people applying for service, which are also people looking for help with finding a job, receiving training or acquiring assistive technology. So, it’s a category within another specific category in a way.

But there’s a certain dehumanizing that happens with paperwork and services– and it doesn’t matter whether you are applying for a job, for disability-related services or care, or for food stamps. Just like in grant-writing, people and programs and outcomes are reduced to statistics and outcomes. Things that are measurable. Not the personalities or the feel-goodedness.

But then I look back to that photo of the cookies in Grocery Outlet and I can’t help but smile, because these are the moments of life that seem magical.

Welcome February or “Wow, it’s been a month!”

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I didn’t realize– or perhaps deep down inside I did– that I did not write in this blog at all in the month of January. I have written in the Parisian Phoenix blog, on my Substack, for the Lehigh Valley Armchair Substack, for Kiss and Tell magazine, for press releases and social media…

But not here.

I have spent much time applying for jobs, going on job interviews, and following up with second interviews, and working with my authors at our small publishing company, attending networking events, meeting with other writers and professionals, and grocery shopping at discount retailers like Grocery Outlet and the Dollar Tree.

(Grocery budget has been $25/week, but this week I splurged and bought a baker’s dozen bagels for $9.50 at Panera because they have a sale on Tuesday, and I used my CVS coupons and their sales to buy 2 boxes of KIND breakfast bars, a box of Grape Nuts and a box of Cocoa Krispies for $13.)

My personal favorite cheap meal this month has been these gnocchi from the Dollar Tree, served with a cream sauce I made with butter, lemon, and some artichoke hearts (using the oil they were marinated in). The artichoke hearts and the Barber Foods Chicken Stuffed with Broccoli and Cheese came from Grocery Outlet. The whole meal cost me about $3 per serving. And I used up some half and half that was on its last leg.

If it weren’t for car insurance for the teen and heat (I’ve been keeping the house at a balmy 60 degrees since I had to pay for $600 in furnace repairs in December), I have enough clients to keep me afloat indefinitely even after unemployment runs out in about six weeks. But the uncertainty of it all is hard. My biggest faux pas since my lay off was dropping the oil cap into the engine compartment of my car while topping off my fluids before a winter storm.

Luckily, good old Southern Candy and her son came to my aid and he fished it out for me– took him 45 minutes and the promise of the $50 cash I had in my wallet. I could hear my Dad laughing the entire time. I swear he’s been playing practical jokes on me from the afterlife with all of these little mechanical problems.

Like he’s checking to make sure I can take care of myself.

Sometimes, Daddy, I don’t know.

We had two snowstorms in January. During one of which, the first actually, one of the Teenager’s college friends spent the night. (Photo: Here they are at about 10 p.m. having a snowball fight with one of our neighbors, a high school friend of the Teen.) The College Friend hails from Los Angeles, so this was her first snow. And we bundled her up in home-knit hats and gloves and sent her out to shovel and play in my snow boots. Because Lord knows I am not going out in that if I don’t have to.

I drove over to the Bizzy Hizzy, the now nearly empty Stitch Fix warehouse, to show my daughter the old Freestyle and Pick carts that had been set out for the trash. The carts are laminated, corrugated cardboard so I imagined they deflated pretty badly in all the rain. I explained to her how we used to pick, and showed her the pencil cans we used to hold our water bottles and the heavy-duty page protectors that held the pack slips after installation of the Big Ass Fans blew them out of the carts. Three years, evaporated and erased.

I’m still working out with Andrew at Apex Training and meeting my strength goals even if I am failing at my weight goals. The Teen says I need to be more body-positive, but I know I am regularly showing more than 500 garbage calories into my body for the emotional sensation of it. And I also know that as someone with heart and mobility issues, being overweight is not helping.

In good news though, because I share so much about my journal both as someone with cerebral palsy and someone who finds strength training cool and empowering, several other members of my gym are now setting strength goals and strength training into their routines.

While visiting Nan the other day I got to meet a really cute dog. She’s a French sheep dog. Nan and her owner both told me her breed and now I don’t remember. I asked Siri and she suggested a Wheaten Terrier or a Goldendoodle and both of those are wrong. So, I googled French sheep dog breeds and it suggested a few and I immediately recognized the word “Briard.” And it is indeed a dog that would get stuck in briars.

And last week, the Echo City guys and I went out to Pints & Pies for burgers for the guys and pizza for me. It was a very tasty pizza. I have been dreaming of it and the cold Yuengling draft I had ever since.

All things fitness, mobility and service dog

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

The last week or so I feel like my strength in the gym (Apex Training) has been dead on– the lifts have come easily and even as my feet/lower body doesn’t cooperate, I seem to get the job done without compromising my other body parts. Andrew, my fitness trainer and strength coach, has been a wonderful support and motivator as life has gotten dramatic and hectic for both of us.

Today I lifted a new PR on bench press– I am up to 80 pounds! As for flexibility and core strength, from my angle it fluctuates every day but Andrew points out a lot of his observations which suggest I am improving more than I might realize. I have noticed that I stumble less, even as my toes drag and my balance falters, knock on wood I have not fallen since Sept. 30.

I have gained back all of the weight I lost, between gin sours and peanut m&m’s and all sorts of chips from the Dollar Tree. And too much pizza! Even with The Teenager home after having her wisdom teeth plus a back molar removed, I’m still eating too much junk– milkshakes, cheese curds, the Wawa chicken fingers and french fries, Macs received for free with minimum purchase of a Diet Coke for me and a Sprite for the Teen all in the name of surgery recovery.

Meanwhile, I can see my muscles gain definition so I know if I’d stop putting junk in my body ALL THE TIME, I could really lean out and have great tone. But the immediate satisfaction of treats and savory, salty foods steals my discipline and knowledge every time.

As if that alone weren’t enough to kick my ass back where it needs to be, I’m starting to believe that the occasional out-of-breath episodes I’m having are symptoms of exercise-induced asthma. My allergies have been bad. The weight doesn’t help. And I noticed more and more that it comes on all of a sudden, even when I’m walking on a flat surface setting my own pace and not with anyone else, and I cannot get air into my lungs until I repeatedly take breaths through my nose and get a breath deep into my chest.

Today, it happened at the gym. I have never had anything like this happen at the gym. I was doing sets of 25 crunches on the exercise ball and really had trouble catching my breath at the end of the set. And I love those crunches! I normally knock them out like a beast!

Light Mobility Service Dog Update

Yesterday I was scheduled to meet with my caseworker at Susquehanna Service Dogs on Zoom. She asked if we could please reschedule for today and as I kept the end of the week open not knowing how the Teen would do with surgery, it worked out fine.

Today the Teen, myself and the caseworker met to discuss what my dog might be trained to do as a task for me, any concerns I might have, and some more updates about my lifestyle. The number one goal I have for this endeavor is to be able to go on walks by myself without fear. I miss my days of going for a 4-mile walk in the morning. I want that piece of mind. The other tasks that I asked for are help retrieving things from the ground when I can’t bend, carrying items I might have in my hand if I find myself struggling for balance, and getting a first aid kit if I need one.

When survival means blending the personal and the professional

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

This week I have been laid off for two months. It’s hard to believe how the time slips by so quickly. I look at my calendar, perplexed at how it can always be so full and wondering if it will ever yield anything of note. And perhaps it doesn’t even matter.

I haven’t offered much in the way of personal blogging recently. I have been piecing together clients, hustling to make a buck, volunteering and showing up more than I should in order that I might build relationships that go somewhere. I hope some of the ties I have forged in the last eight weeks will create the kind of ties that yield interpersonal rewards even if they don’t present professional ones. Because in the end, if you foster the personal relationships, people trust you with their business.

But I realized yesterday, that I spend probably 8-12 hours a day reading, writing and/or editing and my poor brain never gets a break. So, I called Southern Candy and invited her over. She brought our favorite doughnuts (ours meaning she, myself, and The Teenager; flavor, sour cream) and despite the fact that I had a discount milkshake from Sheetz for lunch, I had a dougnut for dinner.

It looks like I gained back every ounce of weight I had lost since the gym initiated its Christmas resolutions challenge. With about eight weeks to go, my hopes of reaching my goal had dwindled thanks to free Big Macs and too much Dollar Tree snack products.

My mobility has been rocky. When my gait is stable, my pain seems high. When I’m not in pain, I tend to fall. Since I’m unemployed, I applied for medical assistance and if approved, maybe I could do some physical therapy. I can always use physical therapy.

As if reading my mind, I received an email today from my caseworker at Susquehanna Service Dogs about creating my Personal Placement Plan or my P3. I scheduled that Zoom meeting for the end of the month and have to say it’s exciting to think about what my service dog might be able to do.

It’s also interesting to see how different people react to a lay-off. I’ve had people seem as if there’s something wrong with me that I haven’t found a new job yet. I’ve had friends and clients ask if The Teenager and I are financially okay. And I’ve heard some interesting news that some people think they know and influence my financial affairs even though they haven’t spoken to me since before the lay-off.

The holidays are coming up, with Thanksgiving kicking off the season next week, and with so many family members who seem to have disappeared, including my mother and stepmother who don’t reach out to me anymore and I don’t understand why, I’ll be trying to create my own traditions and my own sense of what I want my life to be. But sometimes, and lately more often than usual, I miss my family.