Both My Arms Fell Off...
...of my wheelchair. And my brakes don't work. And my footrests (feetrests?) won't stay in place. Which means

I'VE OUTLASTED MY WHEELCHAIR!!! Yay!!!

I've gotta think this is a rarity with ALS. We've had that chair more than four years, and while we're sad to see it go (and not looking forward to buying a replacement), our family is definitely celebrating the fact that I'm still here to need a wheelchair at all!

The memory of going to the medical supply store to buy it is still as vivid as if it were just last week. My body was physically stronger back then, but mentally I was much more fragile. As I glanced around at the shelves of equipment and supplies with smiling senior citizens on the packaging, I kept sullenly saying to myself, I don't belong here. (Also, equally bitterly, Everyone knows you're not really that thrilled about your commode.)

I remember trying gamely to joke around with Jim about "pimpin' my ride"--chrome rims, custom paint job, leather seat, neon underglow lights. My heart wasn't really in it, though. And we never got around to more than putting a couple of magnets on the sides.

This time when we go shopping for my new wheels, I still won't want a wheelchair. But when I joke around about pimpin' my ride, I'll have the inner strength to mean it.

(But I'm still not ready for a commode, no matter how wide the grin of the sweet old lady on the package.)