Expectant Mother reserved parking is the latest thing. Seriously?

I had to stop in Wegmans today to pick up prescriptions – one for the urinary tract infection which is flaring, and one to ease the pain from said infection. As usual, at the end of the day I was feeling every movement.Wegmans, like all major retailers, has to assign handicapped parking spaces in proportion to the total number of parking spaces in the lot. At the larger Wegmans, it’s not unusual that the first six parking spaces in every row within easy walking distance of the front doors is designated for handicapped parking only – sometimes as many as 36 or 42 spaces. The far aisles near the side doors (one into the deli area, and the other near the pharmacy doors) don’t have handicapped signs, so they’re often the best bet when I need a space near a door.

But today, the aisle near the pharmacy door was filled a dozen cars deep. I glanced to my right, and there it was, all open and inviting. A reserved parking space designated “Expectant Mother Parking.”

HUH?

I never took a handicap tag, temporary or perm

anent, through three surgeries and five chemo regimens. In fact, the only time I’ve ever used a handicapped tag was during the six months where I’d torn my right ACL and was in a hip-to-ankle brace. Doctors never offered and I just forgot to ask (I blame chemo brain.)

But “Expectant Mother Parking”? Seriously?

If Wegmans and other retailers want to designate some up-close parking spaces for a very under-served community, they need to get some signs for the cancer survivor community. Nothing obvious – subtlety is the key. How about:

“I am on a chemo infusion and need to get in and out of here ASAP” signs?

“I have 15 minutes before my Decadron crash” signs?

“I am two weeks out of surgery and my incision hurts” signs?

“I just need to pick up milk and a prescription” signs?

Or even the most direct – “I have cancer and I feel like crap” signs?

I admit it – sin or not, 54-year-old woman without a uterus or not, I turned my little Jeep Patriot into the “Expectant Mother Parking” space, locked the door and moved, s-l-0-w-l-y, to the pharmacy entrance. Some days, you do what you gotta do to get through the day.