A funny thing happened on my way home from work last night. I almost stopped my car to talk to a total stranger - but I didn't, figuring it'd seem a bit odd, and besides, I was running late to get home to Acorn, who's been fighting of a summer stomach virus that is now settling in his lungs (yes, my kid is talented - no 3 days of fever with no other symptoms for him, no siree!)
I work at a Fortune 500 company as an engineer. The company's engineering & research campus is across the street from a museum complex that bears the name of the founder of the company; the development and testing areas are also on that side of the street, with a narrow winding road and a tall brick fence separating test facilities from museum. It's a popular place - there are both indoor and outdoor exhibits, and a lot of history can be found there.
Some days, I take that winding road over to the highway to get me home (though not the rest of this week - there's a big event closing down surface streets between here and there this next weekend, so it's the interstate for me). Yesterday was one of those days.
Driving up to the stop sign where tourists cross to one of the parking lots, I saw a woman pushing what looked like a really strange stroller. Getting a little closer, I was really struggling to grasp what it was she was pushing - too tall and bulky for most strollers, but there was a pink hat at the top there... and then suddenly the image snapped into focus:
I saw the ventilator tubing.
It suddenly all made sense - a specialty wheel chair, with tilt-in-space seating, with a plethora of medical equipment attached behind the seat and below it, and a girl in it, most of her covered with a pink blanket.
Funny how the details are sometimes the thing we recognize first.
We see so few other families with trach kids, much less with ventilators, that I was sorely tempted to roll down the window and say hi...
...but I think the police car behind me would have been upset about me blocking traffic.