Choreographer's Cuisine

I hate change. Anyone who know me well is probably laughing right now at the truth of that statement. Things have been changing at an incredibly high speed around here for the last while. My grandparents are downsizing and getting rid of stuff. They gave my sister a new bed from their place, in turn my sister's bed became my bed to replace my hospital bed that was falling apart. (Literally.)  I just got a new chair too. This bed that my sister passed on to me used to be my bed before my Granny gave me the hospital bed after her friend passed away years ago. When we used the bed before, I was younger and lighter, I would park my chair in the corner and my Dad would just lift me into bed. Now, I'm too big for that. We were having problems transferring to this bed as my chair couldn't get close enough to the bed as a result there was a gap between the bed and the chair that made me feel unsafe transferring, which in turn led to my orientation flying off to never never la

Last week my French teacher asked me a question. "Looking at your life up to this point, what thing amazes you the most?" (Monica paraphrase)  As we do each week, he sent it to me by email and gave me the week to think about it. There are a couple things  I could have answered with, and all would have been equally valid and true. My answer, however, was simple. "I'm alive." I don't think my teacher was expecting that answer. But it's true and it's amazing and it's God. I mean, come on. Even the doctors and nurses who saw me in the hospital say I shouldn't be alive, shouldn't know my parents, shouldn't be doing ANY of what I'm doing today. It will be 24 years in June since the trauma that turned our lives, my life upside down. Do I wish that it had never happened? No, not really. Sometimes I do wish my body would do what it's meant to, but honestly I have rubbed shoulders with people who I never would have met otherwise