Driving is easy. Driving with wheelchair is not. Wheelchairs are wonderful beasts, enabling you to get from Point A to Point B without asking to be carried. "Whoever said 'confined to a wheelchair' was an idiot," says a paraplegic friend scornfully, "My wheelchair is my legs, only round. It doesn't confine me; it frees me." Of course, he has the OTHER [...]
I'm going home. Until a couple of weeks ago, I hadn't so much as driven onto my street for more than eight months. Since I couldn't go inside the house--it's not exactly compatible with a woman who balances the world on one leg and lives in a wheelchair--there wasn't much point. The Elmo stories (of Elmo, my replacement knee and then [...]
Found large, rodent-shaped toothmarks on apples in the fruit bowl on Mom's kitchen counter, with a trail of knocked-over orchids, the paper towel holder, a few glasses... I'd seen a squirrel at the kitchen windows the day before, leaping at the screens in a desperate bid to get in, and occasionally some odd scuffling noises on the roof. Absent any evidence of [...]
The Andrews Sisters didn't sing about hookers, and the songs from Hair really aren't about hair, shattering some of my longest-held perceptions. Backstory: I'm not your typical music lover; I pay no attention to the identity of the groups doing the music I love, and I don't usually listen much to the lyrics. I typically hear just enough of what's [...]
"Does THIS look better to you?!" she raged, pointing to her leg, "It's supposed to be ELEVATED. Does this look elevated?" I smiled weakly, made a note: The lady in room 15 is not up for small talk. On Friday night, Sept. 16, 2016, I fractured my left femur just above Elmo, my replacement knee. I lived in a wheelchair, [...]
"What did you do in life?" he asks cheerfully, interestedly, and I nearly punch his lights out. "The last time I checked," I say, dryly, "I was still doing it." He's about 18, just entered college, determined to be a doctor some day. He's got a way to go on the bedside manner, but he means well. He'd crept into my [...]
Gina* is a problem. Her suffering cries drive you to her side, anxious to save an aging damsel in distress. "Help me, please. The pain is so bad. It HURTS! Please, can't you give me something for the pain? HELP! Is anyone listening?" Newbies at The Fortress immediately blame the caregivers, "Where the HELL are they? Why aren't they helping this lady?" And that's the problem: [...]
"Well, hello there!" she beamed, "What are YOU doing back here?" I'm back at The Fortress, the rehab center where I spent the first six weeks or so of the fight to save Elmo. To be honest, I didn't expect to see this place again, but at the moment it's a welcome respite. And I gotta admit, it's a bit [...]
Oh....the footbone's connected to the anklebone The anklebone's connected to the shinbone The shinbone's connected to the Elmobone Now hear the word on The Void... After months of zoning out at the Deadbeat Cafe, The Leg has finally decided to go back to work. IOW, it's started to grow bone to fill in the walnut-sized void in my lower (distal) femur. [...]
Awake to my sister practicing the last movement of Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor: Moonlight Sonata at sunrise. I smile and nod as Mom asks me if I've slept well, scent fresh-ground Sulawesi in the little one-cup coffeemaker Carol and Emelia gave me an age ago, and wonder: If I grab these moments really REALLY tight, plaster them against my heart [...]
