Three weeks and 4 days into life with a fractured ankle and another 21 days to go before they finally remove my cast. The days are long. Time stretches in strange ways when your world slows down to the pace of wheelchair, crutches and careful steps.
So far, my outings have been limited to orthopedist appointment last January 28 where they changed my splint to fiberglass cast and one daring social appearance last Feb 4 because who can resist Teppanya’s 8 Course Valentine Omakase Matsusaka menu
My handsome hubby practical, loving, and clearly committed to my continued happiness, bought me a wheelchair.
In theory, this meant our Michelin adventure could continue uninterrupted. In practice, we live in a house built entirely of stairs. Think one flight from the garage to the living room, another from the living room to the bedroom. Venturing out now feels less like a gastronomic adventure and more like preparing for a Mt. Everest expedition. Suddenly, stair-free condos and sprawling bungalows aren’t just real estate options; they feel like fully formed life philosophies.
PWD-accessible malls and restaurants have become my besties. I now find myself calling our previously reserved Michelin-starred tables, merely to ensure there’s accommodation for my wheelchair, because nothing quite says “haute cuisine” like meticulous logistical planning.
Home, however, is where the real Olympic sport begins. Since February 4, I’ve mostly stayed put because navigating stairs on crutches requires upper-body strength, mental focus, and a level of courage I did not know I possessed. Initially, I was absolutely petrified, using crutches to carry my body weight felt like an extreme sport no one trained me for. The lesson? Don’t overthink it. Fear grows in the imagination and shrinks in execution. Just go for it
So last night February 14 , Valentine’s Day , we set off to a Valentine’s concert at Proscenium : tickets bought weeks prior to my misstep , optimism purchased free of charge.
There I was seated, dressed up, and fully present, enjoying a Valentine’s concert from my wheelchair.
Thankfully, the Proscenium Theater is wheelchair-accessible. We were escorted inside and straight to the PWD area, and the ushers were nothing short of wonderful: attentive, thoughtful, and all smiles. Our original tickets were two rows from the stage, but reaching them would have meant navigating 14 steps and a tricky shimmy I simply couldn’t manage. It was such a relief to know they have a dedicated wheelchair section. I called ahead, arranged it, and they even reimbursed the difference. From start to finish, they made watching the concert feel effortless, breezy, and utterly enjoyable.
Because if there’s a wheel, there’s a way, pun very much intended. And if this season has taught me anything, it’s that resilience doesn’t always wear a cape. Sometimes, it simply shows up anyway … crutches, confidence, and all.
Love Letters by Ryan Cayabyab, Proscenium Theater Feb 13-15
Pigoutmanila 