Transportation Dilemma

One of the most difficult aspects of having a brain trauma is having your driver's license suspended. You can't image how hard it is to have to wait to have other people drive you everywhere you need to go. The first few weeks everyone is very sympathetic, but after five months you can hear the silent sighs of even your family members as they surreptitiously look at their watches. As my daughter put it,"Mom you are on disability, and Dad and I are going to be on unemployment if we keep taking off from work." And she is right. Life must go on for everyone; people have obligations at work they must keep. I have to find ways to solve my own transportation problems.

At first I hired a driver to take me home from rehab and to doctor's appointments. However, when my driver got her car stolen (she later recovered it), I figured it was a good time for me to come up with a cheaper solution. So I started riding the public bus, which was a strange but interesting experience. With the help of my cool "Dr. House-like" cane I walked the few blocks to the bus stop near the rehab center. Then I would walk the mile home from my bus stop.

You soon learn there is a definite pecking order in the world of disabilities on the bus. I always prayed that a wheelchair person wouldn't get on because then I had to move out of the disabled seat area and find something in the back before the bus driver pulled away and I fell over. One day I couldn't get my left leg over fast enough when I sat down, and the lady next to me started to yell at me. "What's wrong with you?' she demanded. I explained that I had a brain tumor removed and that my left side was a little slow. She decided to announce to the entire bus that I had had a brain tumor. My physical disability has admitted me into a very unique subculture that I never imagined I would be part of. You cannot image this world if you haven't been part of it.

Now that I can't walk the mile home from the bus stop, I applied for Access transportation. Access is the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) mandated paratransit transportation program for Los Angeles County. On the day of my evaluation, the Access van picked me up and took me to the evaluation center. The driver got a little confused and went back to my house after he picked me up to pick me up again. I found myself in this van surrounded by other people with mobility challenges. I think I have been in denial up until now and have pretended to myself that I am perfectly normal. I think sitting in the van finally made me face the fact that I am not exactly the same as I used to be.

A strange aspect of the disabled subculture is that the folks on the "other side" think that just because you can't walk you must also have mental problems. Medical and social workers often speak to me in slow, soft voices using simple vocabulary just in case I can't follow the conversation. It is kind of funny (sometimes).

Anyhow, I arrived at the evaluation center which was ten times stranger than the DMV. I sat in a huge waiting room where everyone was watching reruns of Gilligan's Island with no sound on an old television that showed the images in purple. The evaluation process itself was highly efficient, and I soon found myself telling my story to a case worker who would decide if I am eligible for disability transportation services. It is kind of weird having to share the intimate details of having breast cancer with someone so you can call a cab.

On the way home we drove all over Southern California in an Access van dropping folks off along the way. It was very surreal. One man in an electric wheelchair got dropped off at a cool chicken diner. The other people in the van were writing down the address so they could return later for a snack. Another rider had been a trial lawyer in Long Beach for 48 years. He had flunked his driver's test three times and was also trying to get approved for Access. This has got to be material for a book.

Finally at 5:30 I arrived home. Hopefully, I will get my license back by June. In the meantime, I will enjoy the folks the Lord has given me the opportunity to meet, minister to, and pray for. Without my disability I would never have know they existed.