The Devil in the Details

The thing that sucks the most about being blind, the thing that is totally in my face, relentless and nasty, is the total inconvenience of it. I mean sure, I might occasionally get bummed about not seeing a sunset or missing the beauty of a rainbow or some such, but sunsets and rainbows just don’t have a huge impact on my day-to-day life.
Since Sprout turned two, I have been sensing a need to give him opportunities to interact with other children. The driving-privileged moms among you (and let’s be clear that I hate you a little bit right now) can just hop in your cars and take your own precious little ones to any number of kid-friendly places or activities; the library, arranged outings with other moms, even the playland at McDonald’s. Whatever. I have spent the last several months looking into socialization opportunities that would be a good fit for our unique family dynamic. And let me tell you, that is no small feat. Less research has gone into the quest for the meaning of life. But finally, I found a possibility. Here is what went into arranging for Michael and me to both get to the place in the middle of the day for a visit:
First, I needed a ride there so that Michael wouldn’t have to take up more time on his lunch break driving out to get me. So as usual, I turned to Mom. She couldn’t do it Monday or Tuesday, but could manage Friday. But the class I wanted to check out doesn’t meet on Friday. So I arrange to check out the facility outside of the class time. Not ideal, but life is about compromise. So it’s all set. Oh wait. Mom has a doctor’s appointment. Can we reschedule? Nope. So Mom reschedules her appointment. She can drop me off and make her appointment, but the timing has to be perfect. Michael gets the okay from work to take a longer lunch break, which is great, but it means he’ll have to make up that time at the end of the day, which was Friday. Working late on Friday really sucks. But again, life is about compromise. So we get to the place and are immediately told that I was misinformed about the available day for Sprout to take the class. Tuesday is not available, but Monday is.
Now, I hope you will indulge me in this digression. If you have talked to me at all in the last few months, you might have sensed my mounting desperation for adult interaction. Sprout and I, we’ve got a great thing going here, but we both need a little space. Spread our wings, absence makes the heart grow fonder, yadda, yadda. So thinking a free half day once a week was coming my way, I checked into getting back into knitting classes. I began looking for transportation to get to the knitting classes. Classes that are held on Tuesdays. Not on Mondays. The effort to find available transportation made that previous “finding a childcare option” search look like, well, child’s play. First, I called Community Action of Southern Kentucky and was told that since I don’t live in the Bowling Green city limits, I’m not eligible for there paratransit service. It’ll take a whole nother post to tell you what I think about that. So then I called Disability Resource Initiatives, DRI, and was told that they only provide transportation services for disabled people to and from medical appointments. Again, that’s another post. So much for encouraging disabled Americans to live full, independent lives, huh? So in a rush born of exasperation, I told the DRI guy on the phone that I was willing to pay for transportation, but I just wasn’t comfortable with having a cab come to my house. Then the guy, this saintly, sent-from Heaven man, said that his wife does some driving for disabled people. He checked with her and called me back with the blessed news that yes indeed, for the standard mileage rate of forty-two cents a mile, his wife would transport me from my house to my knitting class. In the distance, I heard the sound of the Hallelujah chorus. There was much rejoicing. That was on Thursday.
Now we find ourselves again at Friday, when I am told that there is no spot available in the Tuesday class for Sprout. Let me reiterate, knitting classes are on Tuesdays; I have transportation lined up for Tuesdays. Crestfallen, does not come close to describing my mood at this news. All of the finagling and maneuvering was for naught.
Be advised, there is as yet no happy ending to this story. Sorry. But I’ve decided I’m not giving up, even though I am back at square one. This struggle has morphed into a cosmic battle of wills between me and the universe and frankly, the universe ought to know better by now. Let me be clear, the main priority is getting Sprout into a healthy, stimulating program. Getting me to knitting classes isn’t all that important, but I’ll admit that to knitting classes have taken on the importance of a symbol of my personal independence, which is surely giving the matter more weight than it deserves. I know that. But it’s a dog-with-a-bone scenario right now. If you can’t vent about the injustices of the world on your own blog, then where can you?
Thanks for sticking with me to the end of this rant. I’ll keep you updated on further developments. And please, if you have suggestions, pass them along.