Woman takes life in stride -- but watch where you park

Patti Kondor isn't easily frustrated.

She could be disheartened that she's had to fight a rare neuromuscular disorder for most of her 52 years. But she's not.

"I've had a lifetime to prepare for this," she says.

She could be bitter about losing the use of her legs in recent years or the uncontrollable muscle spasms in the middle of the night.

"I feel worse for the wounded coming back from Iraq."

She could be discouraged that she's recently moved from using a walker to a motorized wheelchair.

"I get around Libertyville better now than ever."

She could complain about the strenuous process of just getting into the driver's seat of her conversion van.

Rolling from the kitchen to the garage, she pushes a button that not only opens the van door but also folds out a four-foot long ramp. She uses that bridge to roll her chair into the midsection of the van.

The next step is the hardest. It requires the upper body strength of a gymnast and the agility of a dancer. Grabbing each headrest, she flings herself with a quick spin to the left and lands in the seat.

"This van means freedom for me."

Complaining, griping or pity parties -- that's just not Patti.

But wait until an able-bodied person steals the reserved spot at Jewel or the Centre Club or the post office.

"That's when I get frustrated and angry."

And it's not the ones who blatantly claim the spot with the blue painted asphalt. It's those who park on the yellow diagonal lines that separate the spaces.

For Patti, that is sacred ground.

"When people park there, I've lost my space for the ramp."

Coming out of the doctor's office or church and finding a car blocking the ramp space is truly aggravating.

"Then I can't leave until the person shows up to move their car. There's nothing I can do.

But the anger doesn't last. She forgives them because they just don't get it.

"People are uninformed. They haven't walked in my shoes."