Skip to main content

The Chair

It's no secret that I didn't go easily into the wheelchair - I went kicking and screaming, metaphorically at least. So when a Facebook memory came up from 4 years ago, of the day I got Hot Wheels, it was an opportunity to reflect back over those years and how this chair has changed my life and perspective.

While I still wish I didn't have secondary progressive MS that necessitated my need for a wheelchair, that I have it is a fact of life that wishing cannot change. I have prayed too, but the answer to those prayers seem to be that I'm supposed to be where I am and to be a wheeled disciple for God's grace. (If you knew me when I was in my teens and 20s you'd know that I was hell on wheels before I had wheels and led anything but a grace-filled life).

Prior to acquiescing to the wheeled life, I used to hobble along using a cane or walker and falling frequently. It was after one of those falls that I sat on the floor amid spilled groceries in tears pleading to God for an answer and help. I looked up and before me was the wheelchair I had used recently when I broke my foot. 

"No," I said looking to the ceiling, "that can't really be your answer!"

Shortly after that, I got an upgrade from that clunky, heavy, plain black chair to the lighter, jazzy red chair - aka Hot Wheels. Aside from occasional pity parties or grumble fests, I have been blessed and helped immensely by this chair. 

* By using the chair, I have more energy because I'm not exhausting my body and mind by Struggling to safely walk any distance. I didn't realize how difficult it had become to remain uppright while walking until I didn't have to do that anymore.

* I was able to tour Ireland and even received carte-blanche treatment because unlike the US they don't have the ADA so access to all buildings isn't a guarentee and to gain entry to some, the proprietors will roll out the red carpet or in this case a ramp or special entrance.

* I bumped down the cobbled streets of the Tower of London (and trust me it was bumpy!) and realized while there that if you'd been disabled in days gone by, you didn't get by easily or at all because there was no way to get around.

* I have had countless conversations with children in their strollers, because we are eye-to-eye. And never have I had a conversation with a child and not felt blessed. My wheelchair gets compared to their stroller, because its often seen as a stroller to them. They also love to the scooter carts at grocery stores that I have the privilege of riding and that I realize is really not a privilege when one is not available - but that is for another blog post.

* Going anywhere is easier when I don't have to worry about falling or actually falling. I grumble about the hassle of putting the chair in and out of the car, but not having the chair would further limit my ability to be out and about.

* My family worries a hell of a lot less about me. I can see in my mind's eye their expressions as they watch me tenuously traverse the flattest of surfaces while using a cane- it's like they're waiting for a train wreck. Conversely, they love to push me around, literally and figuratively, and this chair gives them that joy. I love to enable joy.

There are a gazillion more reasons, large and minute, that I feel gratitude for Hot Wheels but I'll not bore you with them. Instead, I'll spend time in quiet reflection.




#theglassishalffull
#msadvocate
#disabilitymatters
#izzywheels


Comments

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

When an ass is so much more

  Body image. Body positivity.  Or about coming to an appreciation for a previously much maligned back end.  In junior high (that's middle school for all of you non boomers), I was given the nickname "big butt Bowen". It was a nickname that stung because I did indeed have a large ass. I tried to mask it, a difficult endeavor since the current fashion (and remember this is junior high when fitting in was paramount) was wearing hip hugger jeans with midriff tops and my disguise of choice were peasant blouses or dresses. That style choice earned an additional nickname, Mama Cass. For those of you that don't know who Mama Cass was, she was part of the Mamas and Papas and known for her beautiful voice but also for her large body.  All about Mama Cass I was cruelly nicknamed at a time when nicknames can really mess with a girl's psyche. And I spent a lifetime as that girl with the messed up psyche. I'm sure there are more than one of you out there that can relate. B...

When you encounter a totally different reality

John and I arrived early for an appointment (for those of you that know my husband, you know that this is not infrequent! The story of arriving three hours early for a flight to Phoenix from Midway still gets repeated and laughed about when the 'kids' get together). We found a seat and the waiting room began to fill. We had chosen seats away from the TV where NBC's Today Show was playing, so we couldn't see what was on the screen. Another couple sat before the TV and provided commentary and as the time progressed provided a glimpse into a total different 'reality'. "Oh I can't even stand to look at him. He's so evil" "What is wrong with his hair?" "This administration will do down in history as the worst ever." "The federal government is taking over the states. There's going to be a civil war, just you wait." "They just let all those illegal aliens in and then they're going to give them weapons to take...

Vulnerability hangover

I recently blogged about my own #MeToo experiences and then went silent. (At least on the blog). Those posts have been read by over 1000 people, and that's a lot for this tiny little blog about living a life with MS and God and with a sense of humor. Suddenly, I felt like I was living in a world where people that read my blog had x-ray vision and could see my nakedness - but I didn't know who they were. It wasn't a good feeling. And then I heard someone discuss Brene Brown, in particular what she describes as a 'vulnerability hangover'. It's essentially the feeling of regret, like after a night of binge drinking, when you think "What did I do/say?" and then "I think I'll just hide out from the world." If you've never had that experience, kudos to you. It's shame, pure and simple, ugly and raw. So, now I'm on a Brene Brown binge, including all of her TED talks. Including this one on shame:  Brene, listening to shame ...