Printer Friendly

Email This Page

Leave a Comment

Read Comments (0)

Sign Up!

Oh no. He’s heading this way, from across the parking lot – with that look. It’s the “something’s not right in my world” look. We’ve all seen it before, those of us in wheelchairs who have adapted to everyday chores, like getting in and out of cars. But whether it’s a vehicle with a lift, retractable ramp, or just a clever scheme for hoisting your chair’s frame over your reclined seat and popping on your two wheels, as I’ve done everyday for over two decades, we’ve mastered this. We’ve figured it out – we’re functional, and proud of it. But even this won’t deter some, like the man pummeling toward me at this moment, crossing in front of moving cars, risking his very life to set things right.

Luckily I’ve completely assembled and transferred into my wheelchair and am just about to shut the car door, all in the time it’s taken him to cross 25 yards of asphalt. Impressive, right? At least I think so; but no –

“You need any help?” he asks, breathlessly. I had hoped my awesome display of wheelchair assembling finesse would have demonstrated that no help is required, but he’s committed; something is still not right in his world –

“All set!” I say, too zealously, a bit of a surly attitude creeping in; but I have to shut our hero down, teach him a thing or two about us. I’ve been through this a thousand times. I’m representing; I must show him in no uncertain terms just how functional we can really be, so if my physical demonstration wasn’t proof enough to turn him back then surely my concrete, rock-solid positive response will do the trick; but no –

“You sure?”

Now I’m pissed. Am I sure? Like I’m going to drive myself to a store and just hope that somebody comes along to help me? I just unloaded, assembled and transferred myself into a wheelchair from the driver’s seat of a Jeep Cherokee in under 30 seconds, and still that’s not good enough?

But that’s the problem – I could have done all this while juggling swords simultaneously and it still would have made no impact, for he‘s not believing what his eyes are seeing; in his mind we’re all helpless, no matter how independent we’ve become.

“Absolutely sure!” I look right at him. Now he looks hurt, like I’ve taken away a toy on Christmas. He only wanted to help, and I’ve denied him. He’s a good person, no doubt, but I’m still pissed, and I can’t stop a barrage of really horrible responses from popping into my head:

“Well, now that you mention it, I could use a few extra bucks – what’d ya say?”

Whoa - burn! I sure told him. But all that’s still in my head. What I really say is:

“But thank you anyhow!” I smile cheerfully, through gritted teeth.

But I’m already an asshole for waving him off. I haven’t educated him, or reversed the attitude fixed in his mind. Instead, I’m just another Angry Disabled Guy, the kind that Larry David loves to parody on Curb Your Enthusiasm; mal-adjusted, taking everything for granted, like the world owes me, ready to chain myself to any public monument to prove my cause. And as it turns out, my cause is feeble: Don’t ask me for help God Dammit!

There should be no grey area, no second-guessing about this. If we need help, we simply ask. And trust me –when we ask for help, you’ll know it. We are great at it. I had my inpatient rehab at an inner-city hospital with four beds to a room, filled with everything from low paras to high quads on vents. Guess who got the nurse first? The one who could yell the loudest!

So let’s make a deal, shall we? If you see us out there, getting out of cars, popping up curbs, opening a door, just pause for a moment and observe. Resist that over-arching impulse to help out the disadvantaged and just wait it out; perhaps that wheelchair person is going to surprise you and have something unexpected up his or her sleeve that gets the job done –not the quick, elegant, fluid, able-bodied way, but gets it done regardless, all by themselves.

For rest assured—one man’s awkwardness is another man’s triumph. And wheelies could use a little triumph once in a while.