August 3, 2010
Both My Arms Fell Off...
8:12 pm cdt
my wheelchair. And my brakes don't work. And my footrests (feetrests?) won't stay in place. Which means
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