As some of you know, I am trying to figure out how to manage the mental/emotional/personal side of my disease. I don't have to tell you guys how tricky this can be. For example, sitting around the house is good for me physically, but missing out on going places with my family is bad for me mentally. So my husband, who is a dedicated inventor/tinkerer/jimmy-rigger/carpenter, has gotten it into his head to make me...a rickshaw.

I say, Um, actually they've already perfected a device for wheeling around people who can't walk. It's called a wheelchair.

He says, No...I'm going to make a rickshaw, with bicycle wheels and poles and a canopy, and pull you around in that instead.

He is very insistent on this. So I thought about it for a bit until I figured it out. If he wheels me around in a wheelchair, I'm an invalid. If he pulls me around in a rickshaw, I'm royalty. That's what's behind it.

I am very moved.

Abby