I emptied out my backpack and put it on the back of my wheelchair.
"I don't think you can do that, they might think you are shoplifting," my fiancé said to me, when I explained why I was taking my bag.
"It will be fine. No one is going to accuse me of stealing," I scoffed.
"Why don't you just wait for me to get done at the gym," he offered.
"I can do this."
The thing I love most about my husband to be is he never holds me back. If I believe I can do something, he has enough faith in me to believe it too (unless it's standing on my tiptoes to see over a really tall book case).
I arrive at the store and proceed to shop. As I go along the isles, my fiancé's words echo in the back of my mind: They might think you are shoplifting. To quell the paranoid voice in my head, I leave the backpack open, hoping employees might realize my intent.
At the dairy section I see the fridge with the rows of coffee creamer. I scan each row and realize the one I want is at the top. I look around to see if anyone is coming, who may be able to help. At that moment a woman pushing her child emerged from around the corner.
"Excuse me ma'am," I approached. "I've looked for an attendant, but couldn't find one. Could you please help me reach the coffee creamer?" I asked.
"Sure," she smiled and handed me the one I pointed to.
"Thank you," I replied.
I shoved the coffee creamer into my backpack and proceeded to shop. As I continued along, I noticed a tall elderly woman was following me. She showed up in almost every isle I visited. I tried not to pay too much attention to her, but when I got to the bread isle (where the snack cakes and danishes are) she finally approached me.
"Can I help you retrieve anything from the shelf?" She asked.
"Oh, please," I said, relieved by her kindness. "I am looking for cheese danishes, do you see any up top?"
She looked, "No, sorry dear. Can I get you anything else?"
"Just those oatmeal creme pies, thank you." I replied when she handed them to me.
I stuck them in my almost full backpack.
"My, you've got a lot of items in that bag," she noted.
"Yeah, and I promise I am not stealing," I assured, remembering why she'd made me feel nervous.
"Oh dear, I wasn't trying to accuse you," the lady said in an apologetic tone.
"I kind of noticed you earlier. I thought you followed me, because you assumed I was stealing -- though I guess I don't blame you. Who shops by shoving items into a back pack? I hoped leaving it open would give people the realization it wasn't shoplifting," I explained.
She chuckled, "It makes a lot of sense. I was just fascinated by your independence and ingenuity. You've adapted so well. I doubt I could have come up with the idea of using my backpack like that."
"I bet you would," I told her. "My whole life has been about adapting, just like anyone who has a condition like mine or any other disability. We all find ways to adjust, so for me this is normal."
"I've never thought of it that way," she smiled. "It's a great perspective to have."
"Well, I try." I grinned.
After speaking a little more, we bid each other good afternoon. I took my items to the front and paid for them, then I went to the coffee bar inside the store to wait for my fiancé. I was sipping coffee, the grocery bags hanging on the back of my wheelchair, when he arrived.
"I was followed," I said when he approached.
"I told you they'd think you were shoplifting," he grinned. "Looks like you got your items though."
"It wasn't an employee who followed me," and I proceeded to tell him about my interaction.
"Did any store clerks notice you?" he asked.
"If anyone did, I doubt they were concerned. What would I do, push myself really fast across the parking lot?"
"Really fast? They'd catch you before you reached the door," he laughed as we exited the store.
"That's why you're my bodyguard / get away driver," I told him.
"Oh that's why I'm here? Forget it," he pretended to be offended and walked off.
"But I love you," I pleaded and wheeled after him.
He stopped and reached for my hand.
"Don't you want to be my partner in crime?" I asked.
"Never," he smirked. I pouted.
"Fine." he conceded.
"I win." I beamed, rolling beside him; hand in hand.
I take pride in my independence, but it's great to know he is there when I need him.
I arrive at the store and proceed to shop. As I go along the isles, my fiancé's words echo in the back of my mind: They might think you are shoplifting. To quell the paranoid voice in my head, I leave the backpack open, hoping employees might realize my intent.
At the dairy section I see the fridge with the rows of coffee creamer. I scan each row and realize the one I want is at the top. I look around to see if anyone is coming, who may be able to help. At that moment a woman pushing her child emerged from around the corner.
"Excuse me ma'am," I approached. "I've looked for an attendant, but couldn't find one. Could you please help me reach the coffee creamer?" I asked.
"Sure," she smiled and handed me the one I pointed to.
"Thank you," I replied.
I shoved the coffee creamer into my backpack and proceeded to shop. As I continued along, I noticed a tall elderly woman was following me. She showed up in almost every isle I visited. I tried not to pay too much attention to her, but when I got to the bread isle (where the snack cakes and danishes are) she finally approached me.
"Can I help you retrieve anything from the shelf?" She asked.
"Oh, please," I said, relieved by her kindness. "I am looking for cheese danishes, do you see any up top?"
She looked, "No, sorry dear. Can I get you anything else?"
"Just those oatmeal creme pies, thank you." I replied when she handed them to me.
I stuck them in my almost full backpack.
"My, you've got a lot of items in that bag," she noted.
"Yeah, and I promise I am not stealing," I assured, remembering why she'd made me feel nervous.
"Oh dear, I wasn't trying to accuse you," the lady said in an apologetic tone.
"I kind of noticed you earlier. I thought you followed me, because you assumed I was stealing -- though I guess I don't blame you. Who shops by shoving items into a back pack? I hoped leaving it open would give people the realization it wasn't shoplifting," I explained.
She chuckled, "It makes a lot of sense. I was just fascinated by your independence and ingenuity. You've adapted so well. I doubt I could have come up with the idea of using my backpack like that."
"I bet you would," I told her. "My whole life has been about adapting, just like anyone who has a condition like mine or any other disability. We all find ways to adjust, so for me this is normal."
"I've never thought of it that way," she smiled. "It's a great perspective to have."
"Well, I try." I grinned.
After speaking a little more, we bid each other good afternoon. I took my items to the front and paid for them, then I went to the coffee bar inside the store to wait for my fiancé. I was sipping coffee, the grocery bags hanging on the back of my wheelchair, when he arrived.
"I was followed," I said when he approached.
"I told you they'd think you were shoplifting," he grinned. "Looks like you got your items though."
"It wasn't an employee who followed me," and I proceeded to tell him about my interaction.
"Did any store clerks notice you?" he asked.
"If anyone did, I doubt they were concerned. What would I do, push myself really fast across the parking lot?"
"Really fast? They'd catch you before you reached the door," he laughed as we exited the store.
"That's why you're my bodyguard / get away driver," I told him.
"Oh that's why I'm here? Forget it," he pretended to be offended and walked off.
"But I love you," I pleaded and wheeled after him.
He stopped and reached for my hand.
"Don't you want to be my partner in crime?" I asked.
"Never," he smirked. I pouted.
"Fine." he conceded.
"I win." I beamed, rolling beside him; hand in hand.
I take pride in my independence, but it's great to know he is there when I need him.
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