Hello world!
Why I Decided to Start This Journey
Because “ADA Accessible” and Actually Accessibility Are Not Always the Same Thing
This all started in August 2025.
I had recently become an empty nester, and school was starting back on Monday. I have worked with Special Needs middle school students for the past 10 years. I also worked a second job along side of it working with adults with disabilities. I should have been getting ready for another school year, figuring out what I was going to do with my newly empty house, and enjoying this new chapter of life.
Instead, my body apparently decided it was time to reveal a few secrets.
And when I say a few secrets… **I mean EIGHT missing internal organs and structures. **Yeah. I wasn’t ready for that revelation either.
I’ve Always Been Tired
For most of my life, I battled fatigue, muscle cramps, backaches, shortness of breath, dislocations, migraines, feeling run-down, and just generally not feeling my best. But like a lot of people, I always explained it away. Maybe I was out of shape. And when I was in shape? Well, then apparently my body just wasn’t used to being in shape. That made sense at the time.
I kept pushing through life because that’s what you do. You work. You raise kids. You take care of everyone else. You deal with the pain, the exhaustion, and the weird symptoms and convince yourself that tomorrow will probably be better.
Until one day… after a doctor appointment comes a phone call.
“You Need to Come Back to the Hospital.”
I had gone to the doctor and about an hour after I got home, my doctor called. She told me my kidney function was extremely low and asked me to come back to the hospital as soon as possible for a CT scan. Okay. That got my attention. So I went back for the scan. The technician began asking me about previous surgeries. She started going down a list. “Have you had your appendix removed?” “No ma’am,” “Kidney?” “No.” “Liver? Spleen? Gallbladder? Pancreas? Hysterectomy?” Again… “No, ma’am. I’ve had one C-section, that is it!” She looked at me. Then she repeated the questions. Again, I told her I hadn’t had those surgeries. So she started another list. By now, I was becoming slightly suspicious. I looked at her and asked:
“Am I missing body parts or something?”
Because she had already done the scan, and I could clearly see the perplexed look on her face. She was so confused that she was considering repeating the scans. “Oh no,” she said. “We just ask everyone these questions.” Uh-huh. Sure you do. I remember thinking, Ma’am, I can SEE your face. Something ain’t right.
Monday Morning: What the Actual…?!
Monday came, and I received an alert saying my test results were available. I opened them. And there it was. According to my medical records… **I was missing eight internal organs or structures. **WHAT?! ** I was beside myself. Naturally, I called my doctor’s office. Unfortunately, my doctor had recently retired, and the doctor who was taking over had gone out on maternity leave somewhere between Friday and Monday. YEP, true story, couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried… The next available appointment? **Two months away. **Ummm… Nope. Absolutely not. I was currently sitting at home reading a medical report that seemed to suggest I had been walking around for 55 years without several important parts, and somebody was going to talk to me before October. Miraculously, they found me an appointment in two weeks. Seriously?? Yeah, NO!!! That doesn’t work for me…
Fortunately, I work for the school system, and we have access to a doctor there. When I explained what was happening, they got me in that afternoon. And even the doctors were shocked. How had I made it to 55 years old without anyone discovering this before? Honestly? **I’d like to know that too. **
So… What Exactly Was Missing?
As it turns out, I was born with multiple congenital abnormalities.
I have:
- One kidney instead of two
- No appendix
- Half of a uterus
- One fallopian tube missing
- One ovary missing
- Intestinal malrotation—which basically means my intestines are upside down, backward and on the wrong side of my body
- The lower part of my lungs do not inflate properly
So all those years of shortness of breath? That might have been a clue. **Ya think? **Good grief. And suddenly, all of these things that I had spent my life trying to explain away started looking a little different.
The Problem With Invisible Disabilities
I had already been diagnosed with several medical conditions over the years that contributed to exhaustion, pain, and neurological symptoms.
But discovering that I had only one kidney—and that it wasn’t functioning at full capacity—actually functioning at a very low capacity, changed things significantly. There were medications I could no longer safely take being in stage 3 kidney failure. Unfortunately, some of those medications helped me manage pain and other symptoms. So now I had a new problem. The things that helped me function were becoming harder or impossible for me to take. And without them? Some days, my body is just a lot harder to use. That’s the best way I know how to explain it. I can wake up looking perfectly fine. I can put on makeup, who am I kidding, I don’t wear makeup unless someone is getting married and I am part of the wedding. I can fix my hair. I can smile, atleast fake it. I can walk into a store. And someone looking at me might think: **”She looks perfectly healthy.” **Meanwhile, inside, my body might be screaming: “Lady, we are DONE.”
And that’s one of the hardest parts about having an invisible disability.
Looking fine and being fine are two very different things.
When Your Body Can No Longer Keep Up
Eventually, I had to face another difficult reality. I couldn’t keep up with the demands of my job anymore. My Principal called me into his office and told me to find another job or find another school… he is a piece of work and made me feel useless because I was not well. My doctors’ appointments alone were beginning to feel like a full-time job. And I was exhausted. I could manage three or four hours of activity on a good day. But after that? Well… Let’s just say the wheels start coming off. Sometimes literally and figuratively. I would be in tears not able to stand, sometimes not able to walk. I was being told that I needed to consider disability.
And let me tell you…
That’s a hard thing to hear when you’ve spent your entire life working, taking care of your family, raising children, and pushing through whatever life threw at you. I didn’t want to give up. I still don’t. But maybe not being able to do what I used to do doesn’t mean that I can’t do something new. Maybe it means I need to do something differently.
And that’s where this journey began…
Accessibility Is More Than a Checkbox
For most people, mobility is something they never have to think about. You get in your car. You drive somewhere. You park. You walk inside. You enjoy your day. Simple.
Unless it’s not. Unless getting from the parking lot to the entrance is half a mile. Unless the accessible parking spaces are nowhere near where you actually need to go. Unless the ramp technically exists but feels like you’re about to climb Mount Everest. Unless the trail says “accessible” but your wheelchair gets stuck in the gravel. Unless there are no benches. No shade. No nearby restrooms. No place to stop and catch your breath.
A place can technically meet ADA requirements and still be incredibly difficult—or even impossible—for someone with a disability to truly enjoy. And that’s the problem.
**ADA compliance is important. **But accessibility in real life is something else entirely.
Accessibility Isn’t Just About Wheelchairs
When people hear the word “accessible,” many immediately picture someone using a wheelchair. And yes, wheelchair accessibility is incredibly important. But accessibility affects so many more people. People with chronic pain. People with neurological conditions. People who have trouble breathing. People who can walk—but only short distances. People who need frequent breaks. People who use canes, walkers, scooters, wheelchairs, oxygen. or other mobility devices.
And people like me… People who may look perfectly fine but are silently calculating every step.
**How far is it? **
Where can I sit down?
** ****Is there a restroom nearby? **
**Can I make it back to the car? **
Is this going to wipe me out for the rest of the day?
Those are questions that many people never have to ask. But for millions of people, those questions determine whether they can participate at all.
So What Am I Going to Do?
I’m going to go. I’m going to travel. I’m going to visit places. And I’m going to tell you exactly what happens.
My goal is to visit:
- State Parks
- National Parks
- Attractions
- Beaches
- Hotels
- Campgrounds
- Restaurants
- Historic Sites
- Small Towns
- Tourist Destinations
- And anywhere else people might want to go
But I’m not going to simply look at a website and tell you:
**”Yes! This location is ADA accessible!” **Nope. I’m going to give you the real-life play-by-play.
I want to know:
Where do you park?
How far is it to the entrance?
Is there shade?
Are there benches?
Are the sidewalks smooth?
Is the terrain difficult?
Are there hills?
Is the bathroom actually usable?
Are the doors easy to open?
Can someone with limited stamina realistically enjoy the experience?
Can someone using a wheelchair navigate it?
How long can you comfortably stay?
And the big question…
Would I recommend this place to someone with a disability?
Because that’s the information I want before I go somewhere. I don’t just want to know whether someone checked an ADA box. I want to know what it’s actually like.
My Goal
I want people with disabilities to have the opportunity to explore the world. To travel. To experience nature. To visit beautiful places. To make memories. And to do those things without constantly worrying:
**”Can I actually do this?” **Maybe you can. Maybe you can’t. But I want you to know **before you get there. **I want to tell you what the brochures don’t tell you. The things that only someone experiencing a place in real life would notice. How far you actually have to walk. Whether the “accessible trail” is truly accessible. Whether there is somewhere to rest. Whether the bathrooms are practical. Whether someone with limited mobility or stamina can realistically enjoy the day.
Accessibility isn’t just about getting through the entrance. It’s about being able to participate once you’re inside.
Follow My Journey
This isn’t the journey I thought I would be taking at this stage of my life. I thought I was going to be adjusting to life as an empty nester and continuing my career. Instead, my body apparently handed me a surprise medical scavenger hunt. **”Let’s see what body parts we can find!” **But somewhere in the middle of trying to figure out my new reality, I realized something. Maybe this isn’t the end of my adventure. Maybe it’s the beginning of a completely different one. I may not be able to do everything the way I used to. But I can still explore. I can still travel. I can still experience the world. And I can help other people do the same. So I’m going to hit the road. I’m going to visit the places you’ve always wanted to go. I’m going to test the trails. Measure the distances. Find the bathrooms. Look for the benches. Search for the shade. And probably complain about a few hills along the way. No doubt about the hills… I’ll share the good. The bad. The beautiful. And the “Who in the world thought THIS was accessible?!”
My goal is simple: To help make America easier to explore for everyone. Not just according to a checklist. Not just according to a website. But in real life. So whether you use a wheelchair, walker, cane, scooter, oxygen, or simply have an invisible disability that makes getting around more difficult…
**You belong out there too. **You deserve to travel. You deserve to explore. You deserve to experience the beauty this country has to offer. And I hope my journey can help make your journey a little easier.
So…
Follow my journey.
Let’s discover America together. One accessible—or supposedly accessible—place at a time. Welcome to the adventure.
Let’s find out what accessibility really looks like… in real life.