wheelchair confidentialWhen I’m on the FES arm cycle at my gym, I have my hands wrapped up in gloves that allow me to go pretty hard sans grip. One morning, while working out, I was waiting for an email confirmation from my doc about a last-minute appointment I hoped to get that afternoon.

About 20 minutes into my workout, I heard my email chime, but didn’t want to disconnect all of the pads from the machine until my time was up. I’m not super private about my email generally, because it’s almost always junk and boring stuff. I asked my 50-something PT, “Hey Carol, can you look at my new email? I need to see if I have an appointment after this.” After a little instruction, we got my inbox open. She clicked on the top bold message and started to read it out loud.

Turns out it wasn’t from my doctor. Carol read the first sentence, “I can’t stop thinking about how hot the other night was …” I literally gasped, and shrieked out, “Never mind, never mind, never mind!” A blushing Carol seemed pretty scandalized, but played it off OK.

The doctor emailed about an hour later saying the appointment was a no-go and I never actually saw that email casanova ever again. I don’t have people check my email for me anymore.
—WhEeLieSiNgLeGuRl91