My wife and I recently returned from a long weekend in upstate New York, where we attended my college reunion. It was a biggie — my 50th — and had been delayed a year due to COVID-19.
The sun was shining, and it felt like spring for the three days we were there, which is unusual for Ithaca, New York, in October. As students, we used to say there are only three seasons in Ithaca: winter, July, and August. The fact that we could walk the campus in shorts and golf shirts made the weekend extra special.
Of course, I don’t walk, except for short distances using two canes and a Bioness L300 Go functional electronic stimulator to counter my foot drop; usually, I ride my lightweight scooter. While riding it around campus and in town, I discovered a few things I didn’t learn in the classroom.
Good friends will always be good friends
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised by the way my old friends treated me, but I was. Nobody seemed shocked by my mobility problems, nor did anyone express false concern or pity about my health. Instead, we picked up as if we had just returned from summer vacation, swapping stories and sharing inside jokes.
Some friends who knew about my MS went out of their way to try to make things easier for me. My buddy Bob, who lives near the college, had a group of us over for brunch and somehow managed to obtain a ramp to bridge three steep steps at the entrance to his home. I didn’t use it, because it was too steep and narrow for me to walk or ride on. Bob understood immediately. He must’ve made a significant effort to obtain the ramp, but he didn’t seem at all bothered that I didn’t use it.
You can’t always get there from here
Some places we expect to be accessible, especially in a socially “enlightened” college town like Ithaca, may not be. Some of my classmates helped me in and out of a college reunion dinner venue that was barely accessible by lifting me — while still on my scooter — over a gully in order to reach the dining area. Why hadn’t planners at the college realized that a series of steps as long and large as those in the first “Rocky” movie would be impossible for someone with limited mobility to handle?
But I still know where I’m going
Even after 50 years and a lot of changes to the town, I can still find my way around pretty well. The McDonald’s is still where I remembered it, on Route 13, several billion burgers later. I easily found the campus fire station on west Green Street, where I lived as a volunteer during my senior year. No GPS needed. And the State Diner is still on State Street, of course.
That diner, which used to be open 24/7, was the scene of many late-night meals of eggs, over light, hash browns, and coffee. It’s still open seven days a week, but from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m. — sort of like me.
Despite the cognitive issues that many of us with MS face, it was reassuring to discover that I could still get around my college town without the help of Waze or my wife. It was disappointing to discover that accessibility isn’t a given, but learning that old friendships don’t disappear with time was priceless.
I think I already knew that, though.
(A version of this post first appeared as my column on the MS News Today website.)
