Adaptive Skiing - An Incredible Success

Last fall, after talking with another special needs' mom about her son's experience with adaptive skiing, I asked Dave what he thought about me signing Teddy up for adaptive skiing. He responded with 2 things:

1. I want nothing to do with it. (This is less about Dave not skiing than about not wanting anything to do with a risky sport that could result in broken bones.)
2. There's someone at my work who does this. Do you want me to get more information from her?

That's about as much of a green light for this project as I'd get, so I ran with it. Kelsey volunteers with SouthEastern Wisconsin Adaptive Ski Progam (SEWASP). She was incredibly helpful, and I worked through the process to sign Teddy up for adaptive skiing. I requested what's called a bi-ski, where Teddy would sit and be skied down the hill by volunteers. This is most similar to his waterskiing experience, and it seemed like the safest, easiest option considering Teddy's intellectual disabilities and the fact that his listening ears are often broken.

However, SEWASP wanted to assess Teddy for stand-up skiing based on his physical capabilities and had an opportunity to partner with a new ski hill that happens to be the closest to our home. That ski hill, Nordic Mountain, is working to fully build out their adaptive skiing lessons into a full program. So Teddy's assessment and lesson would benefit Teddy and serve as a training opportunity for the team at Nordic. 

I'm not going to lie. I was nervous. I don't want Teddy to get injured because that requires a tremendous amount more effort to care for him. I also was concerned about Teddy following directions and being able to do what was expected. And then there's the wildcard with Teddy that some things simply freak the heck out of him, and he shuts down. I thought between skis, magic carpet rides and/or lifts that there was a high risk of him shutting down or getting freaked out.

We did our best to prepare for the day thanks to YouTube. Teddy does really well watching simple videos on YouTube to help prepare for new experiences or things that are harder for him (like the dentist). My dad came over for morale and physical support for the Ted-venture, and we headed to the ski hill this morning, bright and early (with Teddy unnecessarily up for the day at 4:30 a.m.) and chilly (temps at 0 when we started). 

And, my fears were promptly reality as Teddy immediately wanted back in the vehicle and refused to even walk to the buildings to get started. I headed up to tell the team that we were working on convincing him, but he was anxious. They came over, friendly faces and encouraging welcomes. Their approach helped me convince Teddy to go check out the warming yurt at least. We spent the first 30 minutes or so with them assessing Teddy's walking, getting to know him and working our way into ski gear. The level of skill in their assessment, what they see and how it translates to how they'll help him learn to ski is nothing short of amazing. Dave and Terri with SEWASP are experts at what they do (with Kelsey being a great support). The team from Nordic (Kyle and Eric) were eager to learn and also not without experience in working with adaptive skiing. It's exciting to hear about the program they're developing and what is to come in the next year.

As we worked through each step, I made sure to capture pictures because getting ski boots on was a milestone in itself. (Seriously, have you ever tried to walk in ski boots?!?!) We headed outside to practice sliding and introduce the skis themselves. By the time we got to ski boots, Teddy was all ready to go and excited for the process. 

The team started him with a pole for balance, which they quickly transitioned away from to less invasive methods of support. They are intentional about making it a good, safe experience but in encouraging as much independence to build good habits as possible. The amount of analysis, awareness of Teddy's abilities and fatigue levels and potential options to support him with both equipment and technique were amazing to hear and see. 

If you've ever skied, you likely know about pizza and french fries, the American way to teach people how to ski with straight skis and to wedge to slow down. They decided Teddy is not a candidate for pizza because he'll always try to pizza and end up with crossed skis, so the alternative is to focus on learning gradual turns to slow down. They helped model that, physically turning his skis for him to kinesthetically feel the turn and had him working on assisted turning his last couple runs. 

My expectations for today were pretty low and realistic. I didn't know if he'd even make it on the ski hill and had fully expected him to have hands on support and/or be strapped into a harness to support him. They see so much capability in Teddy, not his disability, and helped him successfully ski down the (very tiny) beginner hill partially with no hands-on assistance. The range of techniques they used, the way the instructor Eric "fell" right alongside Teddy and cheered him for doing such a great job falling to make it fun and easy to get back up again (as easy as it is on skis) and the enthusiasm and positivity from the entire team made this morning downright magical. 

It was also clear from the smile on Teddy's face, the way he immediately started heading back to the magic carpet and his frequent asks to go on the chair lift (wish not granted this time) that Teddy loved the experience!

I never would have guessed before I saw it with my own eyes today that Teddy is capable of this. His listening ears were on point, his focus and his effort were all nothing short of amazing. We could see the signs of fatigue, so we called it a day after a little more than 2 hours. As we were getting ready to leave, Teddy was ready to put his ski boots back on and go out on the hill again! Though his body was tired, he still wanted to go. 

I'm so excited to take Teddy back to the ski hill for him to have more lessons and continue this! 

So happy as he finished his first run!

For the life of me, I wish I could share the videos, but I can't get videos to upload lately to my blog. 

The Wheelchair Saga: Part One

I labeled this part one since we're only 4 months into the process ... and still pending insurance approval. *Sigh*

Earlier this spring, we realized that Teddy's Kimba Kruze was well past it's useful existence for him. He's still within the weight range, but he's so lanky that he drags his feet on the ground. The seatbelt also no longer stays snug. The wheels stick a bit, even when well lubricated. We've used it a tremendous amount over the past 7 years, and it served us well. But it was time for a new one.

Because we won the Kruze, this was our first time requesting a chair for Teddy. Naively, I imagined it would be as simple as asking his caseworker because she's been able to assist with every other request we have, even if the ordering process took a bit. However, the response was that we needed to work through our insurance first. If our insurance didn't cover it, then we could explore whether the county could assist us.

So we reached out to Teddy's doctor to ask for whatever was needed to go through insurance. We were informed that Teddy hadn't been seen in more than 6 months, so they needed to physically see him. So we set up his physical, and then just a couple days before the physical we were told his appointment was being cancelled because his physical was scheduled for exactly one year from his last physical. The doctor's office wasn't sure whether insurance would cover it ... so a couple phone calls later to our insurance company and the doctor's office, and we were set to keep his appointment.

That appointment started the referral process formally in April. But, the paperwork to NuMotion, the company that would order the chair, got lost. Without knowing how long the process would take, I waited nearly a month to follow up with the doctor's office, who said everything was sent to NuMotion. I called NuMotion, and that's when I learned that the paperwork was lost. A couple phone calls later, and the paperwork was tracked down. 

That phone call is also where I learned the process entailed:

1. The initial referral from the PCP.
2. An evaluation by NuMotion's staff in conjunction with a PT or OT.
3. Review of the evaluation by the PCP.
4. Submission to both insurance companies, both of whom would need to approve it.

Let's just say that by the time all the paperwork was tracked down to actually set up the evaluation, we were already in June (and guess what, I made several more phone calls to check in and track down missing paperwork). Then it took another couple weeks to get the evaluation scheduled (which was never actually confirmed, so I just crossed my fingers and hoped for the person to show up). Then it took another couple weeks for NuMotion to get all the paperwork they needed (which required more phone calls and e-mails to follow up on paperwork that was submitted but was missing from the file).

And then, I got to make more phone calls to track down more paperwork from the PCP because that got misplaced or lost in transit (again). Finally in the first week of August everything was submitted to insurance. 

So now we wait anywhere from one to three weeks to hear if insurance approved, denied or needs more information. (Spoiler alert, we're already more than a week into that wait.) 

The best part of this whole saga is the fact that we've been told by multiple people at NuMotion that Medicaid is extremely tough to get approval for pediatric strollers, which is what the Kruze was. In fact, during phase 2, we were asked if we had alternate funding sources since it was that likely to be denied.

Oh wait, the other really stellar thing I learned during that assessment was that they had to size up the chair to last Teddy 5 years. That's right. If insurance approves a chair for Teddy, which is apparently a really big if, the same chair must fit him well and meet his needs when he is 8 as when he is 13. Well, at this point, I guess it must fit him the same when he was measured when he was 8, but he'll be 9 or 10 before they every approve it, build it and get it to us ... because kids never grow or have their needs change.

The silver lining in this horrid process is that we were able to pick up a chair in Chicago at the end of July from another PIGN-CDG family as their daughter had outgrown it. So we cleaned it up and pieced together something to work for the meantime for a lap belt. Ted is rocking the purple chair in the stylish way that only Ted can, and we're very grateful for a chair that fits him much better, doesn't allow him to constantly drag his feet and works so much better than the old one we wore to the ground.

He still looks huge in this chair, but it's mostly the angle.

Accessibility in Our Parks: Version 2.0

Several years ago I shared our experiences with accessibility within our National Park System. We finally had the chance to venture back to our national parks and travel as a family last month, and it's wonderful to continue to see accessible options. 

At Cuyahoga Valley, AJ made his standard request for Junior Ranger books. The ranger offered a more hands-on learning style if that was better for anyone in our group. She didn't single Teddy out, but she recognized that Teddy may not be able to do the typical workbook and provided that option. She didn't automatically assume and give that as the only option, but she gave a choice that might work better for us. 

It was a really neat set of cards with different activities to do throughout the park, with hands-on learning that could be done by younger ages or people who don't do well with written activities. It's such a great idea!

If they change the name on these, it's a darn near perfect idea.

She also politely inquired about how accessible one of the trailheads was due to construction because she observed us pushing Teddy in his chair. They have to keep safety during construction as the top priority and had made some changes to make it more accessible, yet it still wasn't truly accessible. She appreciated knowing, so she could inform other visitors as well as management. 

The other really cool thing we saw was a variety of adaptive equipment at Indiana Dunes to make beach access possible for people with limited mobility. If you've ever tried to push any wheelchair or stroller on sand, you know how challenging that is. They had several options to give people the ability to more fully experience the parks.

A variety of devices allow better access for more people.

The reality is there will always be a balance between accessibility and the component of leaving our parks natural, which means that all trails cannot be wheelchair accessible. I love to see, though, where parks make the outdoors available to people of all abilities. 

I Spy ...

Two years ago at NIH we had Teddy's eyesight evaluated during our intensive studies at the National Institutes of Health. We were perplexed as to how they'd evaluate his eyesight, given that he's non-verbal and not inclined to follow instructions, whether that's because he doesn't understand them or doesn't care to do others' bidding. They used a few tests that involved where he directed his attention, but much of the testing they did under sedation.

To be honest, testing Teddy's vision wasn't high on our list of priorities. But during AJ's last checkup, I asked a few questions about whether it was worth having Teddy evaluated. The thought of coercing Teddy to wear glasses makes me cringe, but there's so much more than sight that they evaluate. Our eye doctor, Dr. Ames, made me feel comfortable enough that he'd be able to get valuable information from evaluating Teddy, even if Teddy didn't want to cooperate for the tests. I set the appointment for nearly two months in the future, enough time that I didn't need to worry about it. (And I justified it by saying that it would be two years from his last evaluation.)

Well, those two months passed, and the four of us went to the eye doctor with Teddy last week. We felt it was best to have both Dave and I there to help coerce him to cooperate and get the best results. Pretty quickly, the first person evaluating him for the initial tests determined that it was best to bypass all those optional tests and head straight back to a room ... after only about 2 minutes of attempting the first test. The second we walked into the exam room, Teddy melted into the floor and began whimpering. That wasn't surprising, given that he's skittish about medical things ever since NIH. 

When we tried to sit in the exam chair, it required me to physically hold him on my lap against his will. So I let him go and said we could get him back in the chair when needed. He settled once he got in the furthest chair away and then proceeded to rotate chairs, including his wheelchair. We said we could get him back in the exam chair, and Dr. Ames reassured us that he's done exams under chairs. He'd do the exam wherever Teddy was comfortable, and he just continued to allow Teddy to move from seat to seat and continue the exam.

To test his sight, since he can't tell us whether A or B is better, much less sit still for A or B, they use this contraption they hold that has flashing lights and music to get his attention. When he looks into the device, they measure his eyesight to gauge prescription. Then the doctor confirms that prescription by holding different lenses to Teddy's eyes and peer into his eyeballs. 

Teddy cooperated really well for the bright lights to look into the back of his eyeball at his optic nerve. So we got some gauge on his overall eye health and an actual prescription to boot. He's apparently 3.0 for farsightedness and 3.0 for astigmatism, so that balances out to a 1.5 for a prescription. The doctor tried some space-looking spectacles on Teddy to see if he'd focus better on a video when he could see better, but he immediately took them off and had no interest to wear them.

So, our plan is to evaluate Teddy again in 6 months to see if his vision is the same. That'll allow us to verify that the original readings are accurate, that he's not outgrowing his farsightedness (which often can happen in younger children) and that he's not worse. I imagine we'll likely try the spectacles again and be encouraged to get glasses for him. 

I know several other PIGN kids have glasses and learn to tolerate them remarkably well. We've been told that if it makes enough of a difference that people tend to tolerate glasses, even those who wouldn't normally. We'll worry about that and cross that bridge when it comes. (My friend had a mini breakdown on my behalf at the thought of making Teddy wearing glasses. She calmed down once her husband reassured her that Teddy will take any advantage to continue making as much mischief as possible.) 

It's amazing that they can test vision without a person saying a word or really even following instructions. It's even more amazing that we found an eye doctor who is so caring, compassionate and flexible in doing his job that he made something we were dreading into an experience where we all left with smiles. 

Double the Art, Double the Fun

When I picked Teddy up from school Friday, I had the chance to talk to his para who is working in the classroom all November. I asked how his day was, and she said he got art twice that day. He went with the first grader students, stayed for about 15 minutes to complete his project and then left while the rest of them finished class. He also went to his adapted art class with the other students in his special needs classroom. (It's weird, I'm not sure what to call his class ...)

She also mentioned that on Wednesday he went to all of gym class with the first graders. She said they ran for 7 minutes, and that Teddy ran with them the entire time. He was tired after gym class, but it was so wonderful to hear that he had the opportunity to participate for all gym class. See, I watched Teddy's adapted physical education class once, and it was like watching a room of ping pong balls bouncing around the gym because each child needed essentially 1:1 support to successfully follow the instructions for the activity. So I fully understand the effort it takes to include Teddy in a gym class with 20 other first grade students, but I feel it's so critical to his development, acceptance, learning and social inclusion.

The thing that really gets me about that gym class is that this is the child who we wondered and worried for the first nearly three years of his life whether he would ever walk independently. This same child ran with his friends for the entire 7 minutes of running in gym class. Now, that is beyond amazing.

This inclusion with his first grade peers takes effort, no doubt. It also takes a lot of coordination with his teachers, both in his classroom and the first grade teacher. It takes the principal listening to my concerns and the director of special education as well. It takes a whole team of people to make sure the supports are there, so Teddy can run with the other kids. It's something relatively simple that makes me so happy.

And, in case you wonder why we doubted whether he'd ever walk, here's the link to his first independent steps caught on camera. Our little drunk monkey has sobered up through the years, but he still walks like he's had a few too many. Maybe that's why he feels so little pain ...

Super Swim Sessions

Teddy has done adapted swim classes through the local YMCA for several years now, and I know I've talked a few times about how wonderful they are. For a very reasonable price, Teddy gets matched with volunteers who spend an hour in the pool with him while I get to watch how much fun they're having and be glad it's not me wrestling Teddy.

These classes serve a few purposes:

1. There's always the possibility that Teddy will learn to swim independently one day, and this is how that magic would happen.
2. Even if he's not independently swimming, these classes are fantastic therapy sessions for him that incorporate his speech, fine motor and gross motor. 
3. Teddy loves being in water, so it's an activity that he enjoys.
4. We get a break for an hour where we get to see the joy on Teddy's face when we're not putting in all the effort, so we can truly enjoy it. (Or we can just get an hour of work done that wouldn't happen otherwise.)

We usually skip the summer sessions because we head to other pools, so we just do the fall and spring sessions. Hands down, our favorite are the fall sessions when the YMCA partners with class at the local university and has the students teach the swim lessons as the main part of their adapted physical education class. It's fantastic because there's usually two students matched to each participant, and everyone has such a great time once the students get past their initial nerves. 

He is such a lucky kiddo to have these amazing ladies as his teachers!

I heard tonight that another local college is looking at the possibility of doing the same program in the spring semester. That would be awesome because otherwise the program is largely supported by volunteers, so there's less help to go around. That's when I feel a bit bad about someone older than me having Teddy to manage for an hour by herself because, quite frankly, he's a workout. He's adorable, but he's a workout.

So, we'll see what spring brings, but for now we'll be so grateful that Teddy is matched with two young ladies who ask good questions, try different things and are already wrapped around Teddy's finger. 

Field Trip Fun

I tell you, the children in Teddy's kindergarten class are some of the luckiest kindergarten students ever. They have been on a whopping six field trips this year, all with educational value tied to their curriculum, but field trips are field trips. They are fun, exciting and great opportunities to learn and make memories with your friends outside of the classroom. And Teddy has been included on every single field trip. 

The last one I attended was to Culver's, where Teddy loved the ice cream and french fries and did fairly well during the tour. Of course, he loved the bus outside in the parking lot more than sitting still, so much so that my arms were sore the next day from wrangling him. Still, he had a great time and managed really pretty well during the tour itself.

I think his dream field trip would be riding a bus to tour the bus company.

The most recent, though, neither Dave nor I could chaperone because it fell the week we're leaving for vacation. So, we couldn't arrange our work schedules to make it work, and quite honestly, the thought of keeping Teddy in a seat for a play wasn't too appealing. 

The day before the field trip, we got an e-mail from the kindergarten teacher that there were enough staff to accompany Teddy. All we had to do was send in the permission slip and the money for the ticket, and Teddy was able to go, just like every other parent.

First, how awesome that Teddy's teacher and kindergarten teacher didn't just accept that Teddy couldn't go because we couldn't chaperone to support him! Second, Teddy got to go along on this field trip, made it through 20 minutes in the theater before heading to the lobby and had a great time with his para-professional. She got to witness his sheer joy to ride the bus. Seriously, that boy jumps for joy each time he gets to ride the bus.

Look at his happiness to be included!

Second, I love the experiences not only for Teddy but also for his classmates. When we went to Culvers, all the kids were excited to have Teddy join them, with a chorus of, "Hi Teddy!" and "Teddy's coming with us!" There was also one girl who reached for Teddy and held his hands for portions of the tour and patted his arm as they learned all about Culvers. For a parent, that acceptance is priceless. 

We couldn't be happier with how Teddy's been included in the kindergarten class, particularly with the field trips. The dynamics of Teddy's regular classroom changed this spring, so that his teacher and para-professionals have more time to spend with each child. That means more educational opportunities and more inclusion, which benefits everyone.

King of the Party

Teddy crashed a Mardi Gras party at my work today. OK, he was invited because my co-worker wanted me to come take pictures. She offered to help wrangle Teddy (my word choice, not hers) to make it easier for me to say yes. This party was intended for the clients who we support, so Teddy was the only young child there. That didn't stop him from making friends and having a fantastic time. He alternated between wearing the awesome hat my co-worker got for him that was "Teddy proof" and trying to make other people wear it. (The hat was remarkably Teddy proof. He only lost one bell the entire afternoon.)

Such a cool hat!

Teddy though the table of beads was intended for his personal shopping. He walked away with several necklaces, most of which ended up around my neck by the time we left.

He loved that there was music and a designated dance floor. He didn't know whether to dance or just stare in awe, though, when people were blowing the party horns. It's so incredible to see him with his version of dance moves. Trust me, mine aren't much more sophisticated. It's not just the happiness and joy that music and movement bring him, but it's the coordination and all those years of therapy that enable him to do something like this that he likes with other people. He can actively participate instead of hopping around the floor wishing he could do what others are doing.

All in all, it was a fantastic afternoon. I got my bucket filled from seeing the incredible effort our staff put into this party and the enjoyment of all those who attended. Teddy was welcomed with open arms and was such a good listener (although he preferred my co-worker to me because she let him explore more than I would have).

Teddy modeling in the photo booth.

Teddy finished the afternoon by pushing the button to open the doors for people who were leaving. That was a compromise to him pushing the button and running outside away from me, so that's a win-win.

I did make Teddy promise not to tell AJ how much fun the party was since I downplayed it because I only wanted one child maximum to allow me to be somewhat useful. I'm confident Teddy won't say a word, and he brought home tons of beads for AJ.

Music, Cookies and the Slightly Creepy Big Guy

Last weekend we went to a Christmas music program sponsored by Easter Seals. I happened to see a flyer for it shared on Facebook and thought both kids would really enjoy the music program, which was led by a music therapist. Music therapy is about the only therapy we haven't done with Teddy, largely because I never came across a program.

Teddy loved the music and all the people. AJ loved dancing and singing and playing instruments. I loved that since it was geared for special needs that I didn't need to apologize for or even explain Teddy. Teddy moved around the room, sitting in every open seat for a few minutes and sometimes other people's laps. He didn't know any of them, but he's a very social little boy who doesn't have any respect for personal space. In other settings, that usually requires at least a quick apology, redirection of Teddy or explanation to his newly chosen friend. This was somewhere he could just be himself without the need for that.

Santa Teddy was pretty excited to be there.

By far the music and the people were Teddy's favorite parts of the event. AJ liked decorating the cookies and doing a craft as well. Then we went to see the big guy.

Now Teddy historically is a bit freaked out by costumed characters. He's becoming much more intrigued by them, but it's the only time he respects personal space. His bubble goes from non-existent to at least 3 feet, preferably more.

Note the skepticism on Teddy's face. 

This particular Santa lilur Teddy in with his bells, and Teddy got close enough for me to sneak a picture. Then when Santa helped Teddy into his lap, Teddy climbed down and ran away. So AJ stayed chatting shyly with Santa until Teddy and I returned from a safe distance. We even managed a few photos of the four of us with me serving as the safety barrier between Santa and Teddy.

All we're missing is Dave, unless he's really Santa?

It was a phenomenal event just because it was so welcoming for everyone with excellent volunteers. I'll definitely be looking to see if we can attend again next year.

Accessibility: Things You Don't Notice Before You Need Them

Having a child with a disability opens your eyes to many things, one of which is how accessible the world is to them and others in similar situations. We're still at the point with Teddy where he's small enough that we don't always take advantage of things like accessible parking or other things that we probably should because they'd make our life easier.

Case in point: we got the the trailhead in Rocky Mountain and weren't going to use the accessible parking pass because there was other parking available. As we were preparing for our hike (up the side of the mountain to visit waterfalls), we overhead the ranger tell other folks that the trailhead was still a mile up the road. Umm, what? Carry Teddy 2 extra miles, especially when we just got into the mountain altitude? We asked if there was accessible parking still available, explained why we had the pass and proceeded to drive the mile to the trailhead. Thank goodness because otherwise we never would have reached the cascades.

This picture of the cascades made possible by accessible parking.

There's other instances where we didn't take advantage yet still appreciated the options available. At Great Sand Dunes, both a pediatric and adult wheelchair are available to borrow to go into the dunes since a regular wheelchair is useless on sand. We carried Teddy in a backpack, but this is still such a great option that we might need to use in the future. We also noticed a wheelchair available to borrow at Florrisant Fossil Beds to explore their trails, which again we didn't use since Teddy's Kruze is pretty sturdy.

There's Canyonlands, which I felt did a great job with accessible camp sites that are only available to individuals with a disability. Other places offer this as well, but it was prominent at Canyonlands.

We even found a backcountry accessible camping sight about 1/4-mile off the trail at Sprague Lake. That means we could take Teddy to camp in the backcountry without having to hike and carry in all the gear, which would make it impossible. We could push his chair and carry our stuff, plus it's close enough to the parking area that we could get help if needed for a medical emergency. That's incredible!

This was such a neat thing to discover. 

There's cases where folks didn't know we needed the accommodation, like the ranger who did the evening program at the top amphitheater in Canyonlands. She asked if we needed to move the program to the lower area, but that was after we carried up Teddy and his chair. We were perfectly fine since we were already there and didn't feel the least bit slighted that the program was there because it was much better views. 

Then there was the ranger who switched our tour tickets at Mesa Verde once we realized that Teddy could be in a backpack on a tour despite having to climb ladders. He happily accommodated us by swapping our tickets and getting us all together on the same tour. Now, mind you, on that tour I overheard one American asking a couple from Australia whether they were so over the top with accessibility to the "ridiculous" extent we are in the United States. I couldn't help myself. I chimed in to say that although the laws might be a pain, they sure make life a lot easier for our family and allow us to have these types of experiences.

Accessibility sometimes looks like me carrying 50 pounds.

Yet, somehow despite that lady 's complaints, there's hotels that don't have elevators, which seems a bit odd to me simply because we're the type of (lazy) culture that expects them everywhere. We passed up an upgrade at one hotel that was offered because a first-floor room made life much easier than a cushier second-floor room.

And the thing is that I wouldn't have noticed most of this 5 years ago. Well, except maybe the elevator thing because I was really pregnant then and climbing even a flight of stairs made me winded.

Focus on the Possibilities

Today I saw two different inspiring stories that emphasized the same point: focus on what you can do, not what you cannot.

One of the first Super Bowl ads for Toyota was called Good Odds. Within the first few seconds of the commercial, Dave called my attention to the commercial because he knew it was going to be good. And it was. The commercial, available at this link on YouTube, features Lauren Woolstencroft. She beat the odds to win, not one, but eight Paralympic gold medals. It's one minute well worth watching.

The only thing I wish about this was that I knew about Lauren before this commercial. We often hear so much about those athletes, the Shawn Whites and Lindsay Vonns, who compete in the Olympics before the Paralympics. The the coverage of the Paralympics is non-existent, which means most of us don't know about those athletes, many of whom overcome even more challenges than the Olympians who compete in the two weeks prior to them.

The first story I saw today gives me hope because it focused on an athlete who competes both in adapted sports (and from the little bit I saw, adapted hockey seems way more interesting and challenging than traditional hockey) and traditional sports. CBS Sunday Morning featured a high school athlete named Danny Lilya.

Danny was born with a separated spine, which means he uses a wheelchair for mobility. Yet he plays football. Yes, you ready that correctly. Someone who uses a wheelchair for mobility plays football, traditional football as I said earlier.

How?

It's quite simple. Danny focused on what he can do. He's able to hold a football perfectly fine. So, he holds the ball for extra points and kickoffs. He gets out of his wheelchair, holds the ball and then leaves the field until the next time he's needed. His parents commented that if he were to get tackled, it would be a highlight for him and joked that they don't need to worry about him getting paralyzed from a hit because he already is.

To me, this story is the perfect example of focusing on your capabilities, not your disabilities. It's not about what Danny can't do but about what he can. It's about inclusion. How can we include others? It's about accommodation, a very reasonable accommodation of a few extra minutes to get Danny's chair on and off the field before and after these few plays. What little things can we do to help others succeed, live their dreams or simply enjoy life more?

These questions aren't just rhetorical. They're a challenge for me to always seek this mindset with Teddy and others. How can I include Teddy? What little things will help him? (And, no, a giant ladder for him to climb is not the secret to success, although he might believe that.) What can I do for others? What can you do?

Just as these stories illustrate the importance of these Lauren and Danny focusing on what they can do, my challenge to you is the same―focus on what you can do.