These Are a Few of My Favorite Things Because They Make My Disabled Life Easier

‘Tis the season to be thankful.

I’m thankful, as always, for my life, family and friends. But there are lots of other things -- innovations, products and services --  that I am grateful for on a regular basis. Each of these has made my new life (can I call it new if it’s been more than 10 years?) as a disabled person much easier.

1)  Downey Anti-Wrinkle Spray

One of my favorite inventions of recent history, this has been a godsend. I remember using it as far back as 2002, before cancer left me disabled, unable to walk up the stairs of my home or balance well enough to iron something.

I first picked it up as an easy way to spray away the wrinkles in clothes without having to haul out the ironing board and set it up. It was genius: you just spray the clothes, smooth it out a bit, then let it dry. Voila!

When I tucked a bottle in my suitcase for a trip to London, it turned out to be invaluable. Traveling in a group of five women with limited knowledge of hotel room amenities or outlet compatibility, my miracle spray came in super-handy. I left it with a friend who was studying in England. Downey spray hadn’t yet hit the stores there. It took a while for it to be widely available here, but now you can find the product (or an imitator) easily at grocery or drug stores. It even comes in travel sizes. 

After lymphoma left me permanently disabled and requiring a walker, the spray has become a favorite product in my home. I can’t climb the stairs to do laundry or fluff up items in my dryer, but I can easily spray clothing items while they hang on my bathroom towel rack and leave them to de-wrinkle overnight.

2) Dream Dinners 

This company has franchises in 24 states and is a “make-it-yourself” meal mecca. Again, I first discovered Dream Dinners before I got sick. It was an easy, fun way to assemble delicious meals -- with my friend or daughter in tow -- in advance to have several pre-prepared selections to choose from. When I was diagnosed with lymphoma and was essentially unable to help in the cooking at my house, my friends and relatives sent me gift cards to my Dream Dinners. For a small fee, you could order them assembled and then anyone could pick them up, bring them home and follow directions to make an easy, nutritious meal. It was more affordable and healthier than having to rely on fast food. 

More than 11 years after my cancer diagnosis and eight years after my bone marrow transplant, I still am a Dream Dinners loyal customer. If I order regularly, the assembly fee costs nothing and I just pick up many meals for the month directly from the store and put them in my freezer. It still takes some work in the kitchen to cook a meal, but thankfully I can do more of that now. I still avoid the planning, shopping, chopping, and measuring. For someone who can’t stand long or balance well, it’s a lifesaver. 

3) Mimi’s Cafe’s take-out holiday feasts

Once I discovered Mimi’s Cafe’s Thanksgiving dinner, it’s been hard to imagine the annual holiday without it. For (this year) about $90, the Mimi’s to-go meal feeds 8-10, is well-packaged, easy to heat up and delicious. You still need helpers at home to get it to the table.

Here’s the rundown of what’s in the Thanksgiving feast: 1 whole herb butter basted turkey, 2.5 lbs of buttered cornbread stuffing, 2 lbs of candied pecan sweet potatoes, 3 lbs of whipped mashed potatoes, 2.5 lbs of green bean casserole, 12 oz. of apple cranberry orange relish, 32 oz. of turkey gravy, 2 carrot nut loaves and 1 whole brown sugar pumpkin pie. 

The restaurant also offers similar dinners for other holidays.

If you just want an easy-to-make meal with plenty of leftovers, it’s worth checking out. But if -- like me -- you are disabled or not able to operate like you once did in the kitchen, it’s a gift. 

4) Banking on my smartphone

I love being able to deposit checks on my iPhone.

In the olden days, you used to have to bring a check with you to the bank, take it to a teller, fill out a deposit slip and stand there while it was deposited to your account. Sometimes you would have to show ID, if the teller didn’t recognize you. 

Then progress and technology allowed people to deposit checks by using a pneumatic tube at the drive-though window. You could chat with the teller at the window via a microphone. In time, the tubes and employees were replaced by ATMs: both walk-up and drive-through versions.

This is all well and good, but not really ideal for disabled customers like me. It’s a pain to get out of the car and use a walk-up ATM. Making a deposit requires balance to insert the check or cash.  I feel vulnerable, practically advertising while making a monetary transaction that I am not able to walk without assistance. Or run after any robber. 

Even at the drive-though ATMs, I have difficulties. At some terminals, my arm isn’t long enough and I can’t get close enough. The height of the buttons aren’t quite right. I have to open my door, put one leg out (if it will fit between my car and the curb) and turn and really stretch to insert my card, plug in my numbers, deposit checks and/or retrieve cash and get the receipt. Then I strain to free my leg, place it back in the car, put on my seat-belt, etc.  This is all time-consuming, which folks in cars behind me do not appreciate. (Yeah, that’s me also holding up the line at drive-through car washes, postal mailboxes and pharmacies, drop-off library book containers and ticket-issuing parking garages.) 

Once I got my smartphone and downloaded my bank’s app, my banking life became easier. Following step-by-step instructions even I can understand, I can deposit a check without leaving my house. I can also transfer money and pay bills. I still have concerns about getting cash out of an ATM (someone could grab my money and sprint away in a flash), but thankfully there’s an alternative to that. 

5) The cash-back feature when using a debit card at the grocery store

Woo hoo.

Tennis Balls for Walkers: A Sorry Way to Help Disabled People Get Around Easier

I was finished with my visit at a doctor’s office when he commented on my walker. It was my Stander  walker, a lightweight walnut brown model that I take with me when I drive. 

“Nice walker,” he said. “I’ve never seen one like that.”

It’s a remark I get often, so often I feel like I should get a commission on those walker sales.

Then the physician said, “It’s better than those ones with the tennis balls.” 

To which I responded, “I’ve got one of those, too.” 

“By the way,” he added. “What are those tennis balls for? I’ve always wondered that.”

This was an educated man, a specialist, who was puzzled by walker tennis balls. I understand. I, too, am puzzled. 

The tennis balls

I know what they are for. But I’m not sure how they came to be the go-to accessory for people with walkers. And I don’t particularly like them: they’re difficult to put on, they wear out rapidly and they make me feel clown-like when I really don’t want to call too much attention to myself.

And as I have found with many mobility aids or walker accessories, there is a huge need for improvement.

Here’s what I know about tennis balls on walkers. They make for a smoother walk. Walkers come with either wheels or caps on their four legs. The rubber caps on the back legs wear out fairly quickly, leaving you to scrape along as you walk and possibly mar your floor (I have hardwoods). 

Here’s what I think about tennis balls on walkers. I really, really don’t like them. 

Number One, they are garish.  I mean neon green or flourescent yellow or whatever you call it? And tennis balls? Tennis, sadly, is a dim memory for folks who need walkers. Even walking unassisted is a dim memory for me.

Having sporty balls that practically glow in the dark seems just plain silly and insulting.

My husband once found some pale pink tennis balls that he bought and put on my walker for a change of pace. The idea, I believe, was fashion fun. Instead I found them creepy and mildly obscene.

It’s not just my imagination. People do notice my balls and often comment on them. Children, toddlers in particular, are hypnotized by them. They will stop dead in their tracks, eyes glued to my tennis balls. They will try to get the attention of their parents and try to form the words to ask the question: Why does that woman have tennis balls attached to her ... thing? One mother headed her kid off at the pass, interjecting, “She has trouble walking and the balls help her walk.”

One little boy’s eyes were huge as he pointed and exclaimed to his mother, “Look, she’s got basketballs on her....”

Dogs want to chase them. My cat is afraid of them.

Able-bodied grown-ups don't understand them. I’ve had more than one person ask me what they were for. One woman, accompanying her aging mother, asked my husband and I how to attach tennis balls to the walker.

Which leads me to my complaint Number Two: They are difficult to put on. My husband has to get a sharp kitchen knife and slice a gash in the bottom of each ball, then wiggle it onto my walker. A disabled person could not easily accomplish this.

Complaint Number Three: The soft fuzzy bottoms of the balls don’t stay soft and fuzzy for long. So after a while, you are scraping along again and you need to replace the balls.

Ball complaint Number Four: They’re expensive. My friend who is a tennis teacher gave us lots of used practice balls but they were already worn out and last just a few journeys before they had to be replaced.

There are few alternatives to the balls. Some walkers work with gliders, sort of miniature skis that attach to your walker’s rear legs. But they are hard to find. And replacements are usually in white, which continues the garish look.

Fake tennis balls

I did find a tennis ball look-a-like with removable bottoms in a local drug store. Those are easier to change (you don’t need a knife) but they wear out just as often and it's expensive to keep replenishing the bottom portion.

I found colored balls at another drug store -- blue ones made by Walkerballs. They were precut, but I had to cut mine further to attach them to my walker. They cost around $10 for two, which would be a worthy investment if they last longer than regular tennis balls. 

Blue Walkerballs

Here’s the catch: the package said “for indoor use only”.

That’s not practical for me or other walker users. I try to conserve my tennis balls by using them only inside but I used my blue-balled walker one day for my exercise class. Just walking 30 feet each way in the parking lot on asphalt chewed up my expensive walker balls. The Walkerballs website offers a variety of colors and prints so if someone was only an inside walker, he or she might find a pair an attractive and affordable option.

I also found one company that made walker glides that resemble tiny tennis shoes. That might appeal to some disabled folks, but not this one. I just find it cartoonish.

On a previous blog post, I wrote about how inventors need to come up with better walkers.  (I recently learned that there is a place in Southern California, Nova,  that is devoted to making stylish walkers and other types of aids.) I feel the same way about walker balls:  what’s the point of having a fashionable, modern walker if you’ve got to put tennis balls on it?

Hooray! Two Disabled Accessories To Make Life Easier and Better

I’ve discovered two disabled accessories I want to share. I recently wrote a post about walker pouches and how important they are for every person who uses a walker.

But I was lamenting the fact that there is a large supply of boring utilitarian-looking ones, but very few fun, fashionable ones. I ended the post with a call to crafters to start sewing some attractive products.

A friend found someone who does just that. Her name is Kathy and she sews quilted walker pouches in almost 40 different patterns.

Yay!

She says her mom needed a walker after knee surgery and her therapist hung a plastic bag from it to tote stuff around.  "Yuck", Kathy said, or so she told me. I can make something better than that, she thought. And she did.

One of Kathy's pouches

She offers a fabulous array of colorful patterns and has some that would be appealing to men, soon to be expanded.

Kathy sells them on Etsy, the internet marketplace for handmade items. 

The second disabled accessory is a day planner for caregivers. It’s written by blogger Tory Zellick, who provides a wonderful complement to my blog: she gives insight and advice for the people who care for the sick. Zellick was 18 when her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer and she was a full-time caregiver for the rest of her mom’s life, more than six years

She says her caregiving  would have been easier had someone handed her a day planner to keep track of all the important information. So she wrote one to help others who find themselves in similar situations.

“The Medical Day Planner: The Guide to Help Navigate the Medical Maze” is available to pre-order from Amazon. 

It centralizes all the information one needs when caring for a sick person. Whether you are alone in taking care of your loved one, or you share that duty with siblings or professionals, a planner where you can write stuff down is vital.

When you get a diagnosis of cancer or something else serious, your brain immediately gets fuzzy. While the doctor is talking to you, it’s hard to digest what he or she is saying. And it’s even harder to remember it.

A book I just read, “Carter Beats the Devil” which is historical fiction about magic and has nothing to do with serious illness, captured how I felt when I first got the news I may have lymphoma. In a scene where two people are having a conversation, the author writes not that one character’s mind was elsewhere, but that it “flew up, around the room and out the window.” 

When you get a life-altering diagnosis, your brain finally comes back to earth. Hours or days later, you ask yourself, “Now, what did the doctor say?”

Many people advise you to write things down, questions and answers for your doctor. It’s good to have something to consult when your memory differs from that of someone who was with you.

Later, as you go through the treatment and healing process, there are multiple medications, tests and appointments to juggle. And often, several people involved.

In my years-long case, I had voluntary caregivers, my wonderful husband and family and friends, a paid caregiver and a host of nurses who would visit my home to give me infusions or injections.

My kitchen island looked like a pharmacy, with mountains of meds (including two bottles that were so high, I called them the Twin Towers). Making sure I got the right doses of stuff at the right time was a confusing job with many participants.

When I first got sick, I started keeping a folder of my test results and notes. Sometimes a friend or my husband would write things down while I talked to the doctor. And we added it all to the folder. It got huge.

A day planner would have kept essential information in a central, organized spot, so anyone visiting my home could consult it. It would have assisted in the continuity of my care. As Zellick points out, it would even be useful for an able-bodied sick person  to keep track of his own medical journey.

My mother-in-law is fighting cancer now. She has a blend of family and professionals taking care of her. At one point about four months ago in the middle of what seemed like tag-team care, my sister-in-law said to me: “I need to get a book where we can all write things down and leave it at the house.”

The Medical Day Planner could not only be used at the house, caregivers could bring it to appointments. Too bad it won’t come out until March. We could have used it in our family for the past 10 months.

It would be a good gift for someone who has received a serious diagnosis of cancer or anything else, when you are not sure what to do or say. He may not even know he needs it (his mind might be still out the window). But he does.

Disabled Necessity: Walker Pouches, Preferably Cute Ones

People who use walkers need pouches. Not just for convenience, but for safety and security.

While I’ve blogged about disabled people needing better (and more fashionable) walkers, the same goes for pouches. Or organizers. Whatever you call the item that hangs on the side or front of your walker so you can put things in it.

I’ve been using a walker for about six years now.  Some of that time I was bedridden and had to use a wheelchair. But I’ve been through multiple walkers (or mobility aids as they are called in medical supply stores or drugstores).

Each has features I like and dislike. As I was making my way around the house or hospital or rehabilitation facility, I would often comment that I needed something to hold my stuff or maybe a cup holder since moving from one spot in the room to another holding a drink was difficult.

What I didn’t know was there are plenty of walker accessories to make my life easier. But when you are suddenly disabled, you aren’t really thinking about the disabled accessory shopping scene. I’ve found out what’s out there by asking folks who have cool-looking accessories, by keeping my eyes open when I go to the disabled supplies area of my drugstore and by searching the internet.

Over the years, I’ve gotten stronger and more balanced. I can carry a drink and can (slowly) set the table for dinner.  But I’ve learned that having a walker pouch should be mandatory for everyone who is disabled. And there is always room for improvement in convenience and design.

I first spotted an attached walker pouch in my  senior exercise chair class at the senior center. Gloria has a nice blue one on her metal walker. She said her son bought it for her and she didn't know where he got it.

So I went online and found a similar one, in blue and green, that has lots of pockets and stays on when you fold the walker.

First, I put in a water bottle and tissues for when I’m walking around the house. I also used it to transport things from one room to another. But it was a few days after I got it that I learned it serves a greater purpose: a portable emergency kit. 

It was a Sunday night and I was headed to the restroom to get ready for bed. My husband was upstairs for the night and my sons were on their way back from a birthday road trip to the wine country. Because I didn’t want to miss a call from them, I put my house phone in the pouch before I headed to the bathroom.

I parked my walker in the open doorway, leaned against the sink as I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I took a gulp of mouthwash and started swishing, then lost my balance. I do this often, but I just grab onto my walker or a counter and it’s not detectable. I am unable to lift a leg quickly and put it down like other people can when they misstep.

Because my walker was behind me, I grabbed on to a towel bar, which promptly broke. As if in slow motion, I fell directly onto my right hip. 

A million things went through my mind. I had fallen three times before and had sustained multiple spinal compression fractures. Because I have steroid-caused osteoporosis and had kyphoplasty surgery on three vertebrae, I was extra susceptible to hip and spinal fractures.

Oh, (insert curse word), I thought.

Despite the tremendous pain,  I knew I hadn’t broken anything (because the times when I did break stuff, I knew it).  Yay, osteoporosis medicine.

There was a problem. I couldn’t get up. Now that much-mocked “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” TV commercial didn’t seem so funny to me.

I hoisted myself up to the toilet and spit out my mouthwash. My teeth: minty-fresh. Check.

Now to tackle the next thing: being rescued. I remembered my phone in my walker pouch (it was the first time I had brought the phone into the bathroom), so I dragged myself over and pulled it down.

Because I can’t see without my reading glasses, I had to try a few times but managed to page my husband, who came downstairs and  helped me up.

If he had not been home and I had not had my phone in the pouch, I would have remained on the bathroom floor for two hours, when my boys finally arrived home.

There are many times when I’m alone in my house. And there are numerous times when someone’s home but they wouldn’t hear me if I screamed.

Eunice with her pouch

I learned a big lesson that day: always carry essential items in my walker pouch. Whether I’m inside or outside, these items are in the pouch: my home phone handset, my cell phone, a spare pair of reading glasses, a bottle of water and light-up eyeglasses (my favorite new old lady accessory). 

If I’m in the living room or on the driveway, I know I can call for help if I fall. And the light-up reading glasses mean I can do it even if the power goes out.

So you walker users, make sure you have a pouch. Or have someone buy you one. There are many types out there: some fit on the front, some the sides of a walker. Some are baskets, which I don’t think would work for folding up. They do make cup holders to affix to your walker.

And a few of these accessories are attractive. In addition to the standard black and navy offerings, I found one online that has a cute Hawaiian theme.

Back at the senior center, another exercise buddy Eunice sports a lovely fabric walker pouch which suits her personality. She always looks fabulous and has an accessory to match. Her caregiver bought the pink paisley pouch at an out-of-town senior craft boutique. She said she knew Eunice would love it. Disabled folks aren’t at the top of the fashion curve, but we love some attractive options. 

Hear that, accessory designers? Sure, make navy and black, but other colors and patterns are fun. And crafters? Ditch the knitted covers for tissue boxes and toilet paper rolls and start sewing some slammin’ walker pouches.