Sunday, April 15, 2007

My Wheelchair

I was going to attempt some poetry, under the title 'Ode to My Wheelchair'. But poetry is not one of my talents. So I'll stick to prose - which may or may not be one of my talents. ;)

I can't actually trace back to the moment I realized that life would be different because it would be life in a wheelchair. It was some time in the first two weeks though; some time in ICU. There came a time when I just wanted to get up and go outside. The overwhelming feeling is this: "I CAN'T MOVE!"

In my particular case, I can't move anything below my chest. I have full function in my arms. But I can't situp or roll over without the use of my arms. And of course, I can't ambulate (walk) at all. But I can move around in this world using my arms - in a wheelchair. So with this realization and the first opportunity I got, I was hoisted into my first wheelchair.
The pink chair Ellen is sitting in was the first one I rode in that could be considered a wheelchair. I rode in it the day before this picture was taken - they day before I left ICU for rehab.
It can lay flat like a bed. In fact, that's how they got me into it. Very much like a bed to bed transfer. Then they sat me up to about a 45 degree angle and pushed me outside onto second story balcony. Unless Greg has something, I don't have any documentation of that event. But it was so nice to just breathe outside early spring air.

After I moved to the rehab center, I got to try an actual wheelchair with big wheels that I could push myself. You'll notice that the similarity in both the pink chair and this one is that they recline. This was necessary because I didn't have any upright tolerance yet. Basically, if I sat up for more that two or three minutes, I would pass out.







After this recliner chair did it's job for about three days, we started working with a chair that is more similar to mine now. The difference is that it was much heavier and could actually fold up like regular hospital wheelchairs that most people are familiar with.

As you can see in this picture, it was in this chair that I got to make my first visit home. The hope was that the width of this chair would be about the same as my long term chair. So I tried it out on the main for of the house. This is when we discovered that we would have to finish the new bedroom before I could come home and stay the night: the chair could not fit through the door of the half bath on our main level.

The next chair I borrowed was to be mine for about four months. It didn't quite fit me. But it is an actual every day chair that many paralyzed people use every day. It's a rigid frame wheelchair just like mine today. That means that only the wheels come off, the back of the seat folds down and the cushion comes out. It is also very light - about 22lbs.


I made my way around the world in this chair until I got my current, custom chair that was made just for me.


















I remember sitting in my hospital bed reading about different wheelchair types, options, pros and cons. I looked at different wheel construction, braking systems and tires. I talked to a couple guys that visited me about their chairs. Then one day, I realized I was getting a little bit excited about getting a new chair just for me. Never before in my life had I imagined, I would become an expert in wheelchair design. I never thought this piece of equipment would be important to me. And this is the center of the conflict about my wheelchair.


The wheelchair is the central symbol of disability. You see it on signs. You see it as an icon on web sites. You see it on my license plate. The white symbol on a blue background is to many, the first and only thing some people will know about me when they see me driving down the road or see my car parked in the Wal*Mart parking lot. It is a label that I would like to live beyond. It is this set of stereotypes to which people refer when they lovingly say, "I don't even notice your wheelchair, Steve." But the reality is that my wheelchair is part of my and my family's life. And it is a tremendous blessing.


My wheelchair is the answer to that terrible feeling that I had in ICU: "I CAN'T MOVE!" "I'm trapped!" "I'm paralyzed!" But with the wheelchair next to my bed, I can sit myself up, transfer to my wheelchair and go just about every place you can go. I can wheel to my car, climb in and drive just about every place you can drive. Then I can put my wheelchair together, transfer to it from the car and go everywhere you can go. This is especially true in the United States where most public places and many private places are wheelchair accessible. And when I get stuck, as has been known to happen, you help me. I am so grateful to each of you for your help in these situations. And I am very grateful for my wheelchair.