Last Sunday my wife and I rolled down to the cafeteria where there was a musician performing. Antonio played a mixture of oldies and Cuban ballads and I drifted off looking out the window at people driving and cycling in the luscious south Florida greenery under a sunlit sky. It was a fine couple of hours out of my room.
It occurred to me looking round the room that we were all in wheelchairs. Next door was a wizened old Latino fussing over his almost immobile wife. He loves her my wife whispered somewhat unnecessarily and I knew she was imagining a future similar for us. Behind me a guy in a hospital gown was sitting alone. Across the room I saw an East Indian woman in a white sheet taken from her hospital bed as a comforter who was surrounded by her family picnic (I’ll bet they’ve got great food the curry oriented peanut gallery whispered) but for none of us was there any sense of being out of place. Except maybe the leggy Latina walking on cowboy boots in spray painted jeans and much hair and jewelry. She stood out among the wheelchair audience. An oddity.
It is an institution I live in and a very good one. But here I am protected. Sure I am looked after and helped in so many ways, but beyond that I am normal. As normal as normal can be. In a few weeks, maybe fewer than I want, I will be back in the world. I don’t know what proportion of time I will be in a wheelchair and what proportion managing a walker. Maybe even walking with a cane...who knows? I don’t think I will be walking with my former carefree strides for a good few weeks to come though I know I will get there one day soon. And as I lie here and think about that future I wonder how it will feel to be the cripple in the room.
I will be the head at waist height getting respectful looks from the anxious able bodied eager to help me in my struggle to get through the door yet not wanting to appear impatient or callous toward the poor guy in the chair. No one will accuse me of not deserving the parking placard as I climb out of the passenger seat and cling to the open car door, pivoting my slow legs into position with my walker. It must be awful they will think with gratitude as they stride away and listen to me tap slowly down the sidewalk. No. I can safely say I’m not looking forward to this.
I have no choice. I haven’t adapted as well as some to life in a chair. A Key West woman showed off her cupholder in physical therapy yesterday and we all thought it brilliant. Of course I can’t reach down that far without tipping my chair. Then I’ll end up on the ground and they’ll have to call 911 to get me help. Yes I want to go home. No I don’t want to be my wife’s date, the cripple. I am afraid of the future for the first time. In the good news department they do want me back at work. I talked to the captain and he said bring a doctor’s note and we will do what we need to and glad to have you back. I’m looking forward to that for at the police station I will be safe among friends. Besides I like telling the cops where to go.
I have a few ideas how I will take him for walks. Rusty and I will discuss them this weekend when my wife comes visiting. Meanwhile I fret about being a cripple in a world populated by the normal. I wonder how it will be out there?
8 comments:
Your body will recover in it's own time. I did it but I was was in my 30's and now I'm 64. You'll revel in the breeze hitting you and your dog brushing up against you..All the little things in the way you move outside when you are released will be like an alternative style of physical therapy. In 6 months or a year you'll suddenly notice how far you've come and then later your memory of this ordeal will cloud up . I did it and I'm no superman. Your body does it as an natural process.It's all just a short time away. . Always know we love your writing.
Charlie in San Diego
Don't fret about those things, Michael. Life after rehab will undoubtedly be different than it was pre-rehab, but you'll adjust quickly to the way you need to do things differently for a while. You'll probably find that kindness and thoughtfulness will be demonstrated by a lot of strangers, just as you would do if the tables were turned. You may see your world from a different perspective for a while, sort of from the "short person" eye view, of which I'm one, but it's only temporary, which this whole experience is. You'll learn to plan how you're going to do mundane things that you didn't give a second thought to, pre-crash. Don't worry how the "normal" ambulatory population will view you. Some of them will have been in a similar situation at some point in their lives and know what you're dealing with. You may be amazed at how people will share their accident and rehab war stories with you.
Glad to know your job is waiting for you when you're ready to return. And that day will be here before you know it and your life will return to the routines you miss right now. Keep working hard toward that goal. It's just around that next corner. Remember ... If it didn't kill you, it'll make you stronger. It really will make you stronger in many ways. We're all cheering you on every day. :) KWBound
its wonderful that you will be back at work ....
Easy for everyone to say I know....but one day at a time. The sun shining on your back and Rusty and Layne by your side will help this whole chapter in your life to be a memory. If you're a little slower for a while it just means you have time to enjoy each moment and look longer at each view that's in front of you.
I've been a little worried about the work issue. Figured you are on FMLA time by now.Glad they are anxious to have you back and it might behoove you to start thinking about tweaks you can make to your console area to make it more comfortable to work a shift.
It's something you don't want to deal with I'm sure but I really hope you have engaged an attorney to deal.with the loss of income and quality of life.
In My case I found that getting back to work , even if only part time at first ,gave me something else to focus on other than my physical issues.
Also agree that what seems so worrisome now will fade to a blur as time passes.it really is amazing how your brain blocks the bad stuff over time.
And hey , have you considered getting a souped up Rascal scooter?? Could be more fun than a chair and you could walk Rusty!
The police department has the most modern dispatch equipment. Consoles go up and down, some people dispatch while standing. Our toilets are accessible and there are two elevators - big enough to fit my Vespa during the Irma crisis. Work will be fine.
I like your blog! How are you doing?? Just here to tell you to keep fighting and keep moving forward, God is indeed with you. I always recommend people who have health issues to resort physical therapy, because It's so beneficial to our physical and mental health. Physical therapy if done constantly, can really make a change. It's sad that people don't know how impactful undergoing physical therapy is. A website that has helped me become more aware of physical therapy is Preferred Rehab , you should check it out, and get better I know you are strong!
I think you will find that the demographic has shifted to reflect the necessary aging of many people and with that goes the understanding of the body's processes. I was in a wheelchair and then on a knee-scooter in 2010 for a shattered ankle and at that time physical therapy was not so common. I was the 'person in the wheelchair' in a packed out sports bar in Birmingham for the first game of an AL season! even then people were very kind and thoughtful, and found me a spot next to the big screen, and later on, the knee-scooter made people smile for its strangeness. It is now very common to see those scooters but then I found out about them in the UK from the internet. Physical therapy has kept me walking and healthy, from back issues to ankle aftershocks to arthritis in my hip, it is invaluable. Work became and has remained my best friend in times of trouble and happiness as well. It is wonderful to hear that all your family supports you, you and Layne will be back in Europe before you know it. But one day, one step, one breath at a time, and cherish every millisecond.
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