Heroes, part two

OK, I have to add this one because I’m just that weird. It’s not so much heroism as it is stubbornness and foolhardiness.

I had necrosis in both hips due to years of high-dose steroid therapy to treat lupus. No matter how eloquent I wax, I can never describe the pain to you. I will attempt it by telling you that it is literally the bone (the ball part of the joint) dying and slowly collapsing over years. It burned like it was on fire…it reminds me now of what of I’ve heard of certain types of weapons that will go into a human body and continue to burn. I was burning and rotting from the inside out.

One night I decided to go to a ballet at the O’Shaughnessy auditorium at St. Kate’s. One of the pieces was by a famous violinist who contracted MS. She composed the piece to describe her struggle with it. James Sewell had choreographed something to her music. She had since died.

I stopped at a grocery store on the way to pick up something or other. The store was right next door to a liquor store and it was Saturday night. Two handicapped spots sit outside the store. I do have the appropriate sticker. But some asshole had not only parked in handicapped; they had come in sideways taking up almost the entire two spaces. I was barely able to squeak in, with maybe an inch or two to spare. Three Asian guys sat in the idling car and gazed at me with their mouths open. A fourth guy came out of the liquor store. He looked at my car. He looked me.

“Lady, you’re gonna have to move your car.”

“No,” I said and I stood there waiting to see what would happen. I figured if he decided to ram my car or something I should at least get his license number.

“Lady, you have to move your car. I can’t get out if you don’t”

“Sure you can, you’ll just have to go back and forth a bit.”

He got in his car. They all glared at me. I continued to stand there watching them. He moved forward slightly then back slightly. He did that a few more times and got out of the car again.

“Lady, I can’t get out. You have to move your car.”

I said, “No. You can do it.”

It took a while but he eventually was able to get out of his tight, sideways parking spot. Again I waited to see what they would do. I knew they wanted to do something. I had nothing to lose. There was nothing they could do that would cause me more pain.

Anticlimax. One of them said, “Aw, it’s just an old rust bucket anyway.”

I chuckled as they drove away because I couldn’t argue with that. It was true.