It happened again. It's getting so routine that it's hard working up any kind of anger. We are placed in a hotel room that's just not suitable for us. They've put a bar in the bathroom but the room is so tight that my wheelchair can't enter let alone turn. Besides that it's a smoking room and in about 4 or 5 minutes the smell is making us both nauseous. We quickly call the other hotels in town and neither of them have disabled rooms available.
The desk clerk is actually a nice guy, he says that the room though designated as accessible just isn't really set up for someone in a wheelchair and he's really sorry. He takes us to another room which is much much larger but the bathroom isn't adapted. We have few options so we go look. It turns out that the vanity is right beside the toilet and there is room on the other side for me to fold my chair up and lock it in place. By using both the vanity and my wheelchair, I should be able get up after I poo. We take the room.
On the way out the clerk, on no prompting as I wasn't throwing a fit, said, "You shouldn't have to go through this, you shouldn't have to get used to poor service and few choices, it's wrong." Wow. The fact that he got it made it all feel better. The extra space in the room allowed me the opportunity of getting things ready for tomorrow, organizing myself, and setting up my computer to use.
When I rose this morning, we set the bathroom up and I was able to 'evacuate my bowels' ... it's amazing how that becomes an issue in my life again long after it had ceased to be an issue. I sat there and really looked at the bathroom. This must be the honeymoon suite or something, there was a giant jaccuzzi right by the toilet, a stand up shower at the other end, but the real startling thing in the decor is that the walls are completely mirrored. Every surface I looked at had me looking back at myself. Seeing myself sitting on a toilet is not ... um ... inspiring. I wondered who they decorated this for and how weird they were.
Then, as I was leaving the bathroom I looked back to find the light switch, and I saw it. For the first time in years, I saw it. There it was as big as life. My bum. Following happily along behind me. I had imagined my bum much differently. It was smaller than I expected and it would best be described as a jaunty sideways smirk. Then I did something really silly, I waved to it. Heaven knows when I'm ever going to see that little smile again ... I think one of the dimples winked back. Honey moon indeed.
I feel like I have a new friend.