chaoslobster
Mouseketeer
- Joined
- Jan 17, 2010
- Messages
- 195
So I'm reading through all of these Pre-Trip Reports, and almost every one is for a trip in October or later. Some are for next spring! My PTR... is not like that.
I go to Disney every year. I made my reservations a few months ago, booked a hotel room and a flight. I made a couple ADRs and then ended up changing them all anyway. I guess I could have told you all about that back in June, but it would be a pretty boring tale of me going to the WDW website and clicking to choose the options I wanted. The real stress -- I mean, the magic -- begins about 2 weeks out.
I'm running a little late this year. I leave for the Pop Century in one week, on 20 August. Here's my Pre-Trip Report...
A little background first. I'm 35 years old and I've been coming to Disney solo for about a decade. Every year I stay at the Pop Century for 10 days. Sometimes my sister pops in for a couple of days, sometimes it's my mother. I enjoy the company, and it's nice because there are a lot of rides I wouldn't be able to go on by myself. I'm pretty severely disabled and it's gotten progressively worse as the years go by. The first two years at Disney, I was walking around the parks. Slowly and with a ton of rest breaks, but walking! That soon changed to renting one of the Disney ECVs while at the parks, then to getting a rental scooter for the whole trip from an outside vendor. These days I have my own personal scooter, which I bring through the airport and on to the plane. I'd never be able to manage without it. I know that within the next couple years I will probably need a power wheelchair full time because after my last surgery -- an ankle fusion -- I'm having a lot of trouble just getting around the house. For now I totter along like a limping duck, using a cane for balance and to move sleeping dogs out of my path when I need to use the bathroom at 3am.
My annual Disney trip is normally in late May for my birthday. For a long time I didn't think I would be able to go at all this year. Sometime last autumn my ankle deteriorated to the point where I couldn't walk at all -- we're talking commode beside the bed. For awhile there my dad had to lift me onto the commode every time I needed to pee because I didn't have the upper body strength to transfer. Hello, humiliating. It took forever to see the parade of doctors, surgeons and orthopedic specialists who finally decided that we'd have to do an ankle fusion because there was too much deformity in the joint for a total replacement. And then another forever until the surgery was scheduled in April. Afterwards I was trapped for three months in a heavy fiberglass cast that I suspect weighed more than I do.
By my birthday in late May I was having a sobbing meltdown because I should have been packing for Disney, the only 10 days in the year that I'm ever really happy. I had spent most of the past year with absolutely no privacy, no independence, no control over my life whatsoever. I needed help just to go to the bathroom, I couldn't eat or drink without someone bringing it to me. I hadn't left the house at all except for medical appointments, when my dad would load me into the car like a sack of potatoes and then push my wheelchair. I didn't even make the appointments, since my entire life was at somebody else's convenience. And it would be another full year before I could escape from it all and visit my happy place at Disney. I just couldn't handle that thought anymore. I caught myself thinking that I wished I had died on the table during one of my surgeries.
So even though the cast wouldn't come off until July and there was still no guarantee that the surgery was successful, I tentatively made Disney plans for the end of August, knowing that I'd have to cancel everything if the cast came off and it turned out I still couldn't walk, or if any of my cadre of medical personnel decided I shouldn't go. Planning the trip for six weeks after the cast came off, when I literally hadn't walked at all for 10 months, was risky. Foolish, even. But by September 1st it would be too late, because my parents insist that someone be available to fly down to Orlando and rescue me in the event of an emergency. My dad works full time, but my mother and sister are public school teachers and have off the summer. So August 20th was my personal D-Day, the very last day I could schedule Disney before it had to wait another year.
... okay, so that turned into A LOT of background! Sorry about that!
I'll be back with the continuing saga of last-minute stress, arguing with my family, and the annual debate about how much medical equipment to bring versus my need to travel with every portable electronic device I own and a suitcase full of shoes, makeup, bath products and jewelry. Did you think I was kidding about the 100 lbs of luggage? Ha!
I go to Disney every year. I made my reservations a few months ago, booked a hotel room and a flight. I made a couple ADRs and then ended up changing them all anyway. I guess I could have told you all about that back in June, but it would be a pretty boring tale of me going to the WDW website and clicking to choose the options I wanted. The real stress -- I mean, the magic -- begins about 2 weeks out.
I'm running a little late this year. I leave for the Pop Century in one week, on 20 August. Here's my Pre-Trip Report...
A little background first. I'm 35 years old and I've been coming to Disney solo for about a decade. Every year I stay at the Pop Century for 10 days. Sometimes my sister pops in for a couple of days, sometimes it's my mother. I enjoy the company, and it's nice because there are a lot of rides I wouldn't be able to go on by myself. I'm pretty severely disabled and it's gotten progressively worse as the years go by. The first two years at Disney, I was walking around the parks. Slowly and with a ton of rest breaks, but walking! That soon changed to renting one of the Disney ECVs while at the parks, then to getting a rental scooter for the whole trip from an outside vendor. These days I have my own personal scooter, which I bring through the airport and on to the plane. I'd never be able to manage without it. I know that within the next couple years I will probably need a power wheelchair full time because after my last surgery -- an ankle fusion -- I'm having a lot of trouble just getting around the house. For now I totter along like a limping duck, using a cane for balance and to move sleeping dogs out of my path when I need to use the bathroom at 3am.
My annual Disney trip is normally in late May for my birthday. For a long time I didn't think I would be able to go at all this year. Sometime last autumn my ankle deteriorated to the point where I couldn't walk at all -- we're talking commode beside the bed. For awhile there my dad had to lift me onto the commode every time I needed to pee because I didn't have the upper body strength to transfer. Hello, humiliating. It took forever to see the parade of doctors, surgeons and orthopedic specialists who finally decided that we'd have to do an ankle fusion because there was too much deformity in the joint for a total replacement. And then another forever until the surgery was scheduled in April. Afterwards I was trapped for three months in a heavy fiberglass cast that I suspect weighed more than I do.
By my birthday in late May I was having a sobbing meltdown because I should have been packing for Disney, the only 10 days in the year that I'm ever really happy. I had spent most of the past year with absolutely no privacy, no independence, no control over my life whatsoever. I needed help just to go to the bathroom, I couldn't eat or drink without someone bringing it to me. I hadn't left the house at all except for medical appointments, when my dad would load me into the car like a sack of potatoes and then push my wheelchair. I didn't even make the appointments, since my entire life was at somebody else's convenience. And it would be another full year before I could escape from it all and visit my happy place at Disney. I just couldn't handle that thought anymore. I caught myself thinking that I wished I had died on the table during one of my surgeries.
So even though the cast wouldn't come off until July and there was still no guarantee that the surgery was successful, I tentatively made Disney plans for the end of August, knowing that I'd have to cancel everything if the cast came off and it turned out I still couldn't walk, or if any of my cadre of medical personnel decided I shouldn't go. Planning the trip for six weeks after the cast came off, when I literally hadn't walked at all for 10 months, was risky. Foolish, even. But by September 1st it would be too late, because my parents insist that someone be available to fly down to Orlando and rescue me in the event of an emergency. My dad works full time, but my mother and sister are public school teachers and have off the summer. So August 20th was my personal D-Day, the very last day I could schedule Disney before it had to wait another year.
... okay, so that turned into A LOT of background! Sorry about that!
I'll be back with the continuing saga of last-minute stress, arguing with my family, and the annual debate about how much medical equipment to bring versus my need to travel with every portable electronic device I own and a suitcase full of shoes, makeup, bath products and jewelry. Did you think I was kidding about the 100 lbs of luggage? Ha!
