Guest Quad

Spending time with Jim in what is his “new normal” certainly hasn’t been without fun.  We’ve gone walking/rolling on the rail trail, shopping, eaten at a public restaurant, and just hung out at the house.  Albeit, things take a little longer, things need to be carefully thought through and planned, and I have more responsibilities as a friend.  But so far it hasn’t been that far of a stretch from what we did in the past.

He has an extra power chair.  Of course, I hopped in and took it for a spin.

We laughed so hard as I fumbled with the controls and experienced the learning curve of fine chair operation and the unfamiliar position of being in one.   I repeatedly honked the “horn” on the chair (a really, really annoying **BEEP**), Jim and I raced (he won), and I tried to master the in-place spin that is an important part of the quadriplegic hamster dance.

Another friend was present and jumped in the manual chair Jim has.  Jokes were made about the “uppity para” trying to get in on our “quad party” – him with “all the arms” who could operate a manual chair and open doors and stuff.

Good natured jibes amongst friends, perhaps; but it hints at the subtle levels inherent in a quadriplegic’s experience of the world, vs. those of us “with all the hands” (different even from paraplegics).

We began to venture farther down the street to the tennis court and wooded park.  I frowned as I realized, in my role of “guest quad”, the tennis court was not accessible.  A simple hump of greentop between the grass and the court would not permit me to pass with my chair.

We turned our attention to the wooded park.  No path led from the paved street to the wood chip enclosure – one had to pass through a bumpy grassy area, down a slight incline, past trees with roots bulging from the ground.

These things – a hill, the thickness of the grass, the roots – I would never have noticed before.  I would have seen them as inconsequential obstacles on my quick jaunt toward the playground equipment.  But in my role of guest starring as a quad, I began to notice these things…the little things which had become huge issues. 

I verbalized my question of whether or not we could make it to the park.  Jim, to his credit, barreled past me and said, “There’s only one way to find out.”

We did end up making it to he park, Jim and I both getting jostled about in our chairs in the process on the bumpy ground.  (I, of course, could shift my position – no big deal.  Jim had to later be assisted to shift his position back to a straighter one.) 

I chilled in the chair for a bit, watching our other friend play on the equipment, playing my part of the patient quad…until I spied the mini climbing wall, and couldn’t take it anymore.  I stood up out of my chair, making the stereotypical “aaahhhaaawww” miracle sound, raised my arms like I was miraculously cured, and climbed the wall. 

Jim didn’t mince his words with me doing that, but it was, again, all in fun…because, really, we all know the truth of what’s going on, and you gotta blow off steam now and then.  I can’t be ashamed of my legs, and he has to be accepting of his condition…but it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be more contemplative and thankful for having them.

And so this exercise in guest starring as a quad was an eye-opening experience even as it was slightly ridiculous and fun.  Karen pulled up to all three of us in wheelchairs, and just shook her head at our hijinks.  She said it reminded her of the Shepherd Center and that Jim had his own little spinal cord injury group meeting going on at the house. 

We talked her into jumping into an office chair when our next friend came over – all four of us wheeling around the driveway grinning like fools while he got out of his car. 

Hah – spinal cord injury humor!

In closing, I ask that you join with me in guest starring as a person with a SCI.  That you begin to take in your surroundings, and think as a wheelchair-bound individual.  More to the point, a quadriplegic, who cannot use your arms to do things like open doors or bring a delicious hamburger to your own mouth.

How much does your perception change?  Do you start noticing if there is an elevator, and where it’s located?  Is it in service?  Is the path from the van to the building and to where you need to go fully accessible in its entirety? 

How you gonna eat that hamburger?

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