Often I've spoken of rolling rather than walking, primarily because I can't walk and therefore must roll. Earlier on, before my motorized experiences, I got through the rough patches using a manual chair. Since I cannot propel myself, someone must push me. I hate being pushed, always have. Back in the day, pushy people and gauntlet situations drove me nuts. After all, I always prided myself on my efficiency so a push or a demand always stood out as an insult. Now, being pushed in a wheel chair may not tune up with my past experiences but it certainly displays similarities not to be denied.
First I claim that things go better when I'm in control. Especially when it's me. Physically. In a chair with wheels. In a pushed device, I am at the mercy of someone else. In a crowded room, when conversation comes up, usually with my pusher, I find myself three feet outside of the talking circle. I now know how it feels to be a kid in a stroller. Add this to the actual fact that many people feel perfectly fine to speak to the back of my head, plus the truth, spoken by my friend Joan, that I/we are now at butt level, and you should be able to feel my pain. Joan's pain. I simply lacked the power to cast a spell over my dominion. I needed self propulsion.
Jazzy- a battery powered scooter with a thumb control, 5 speeds, a 15 mile range, a reclining bucket seat and a top speed of 5 miles per hour. 150 lbs. Nimble. Super cool, stylish. A very generous gift from great friends. I use it every single day. It gets me everywhere I need to go since we bought a van with a hydraulic lift. I have recently learned of the inadequacies of modern ADA approved facilities, especially public restrooms, very especially restaurants and gas stations. Of course they have the grab bars, the big stalls and the high toilets. The ADA requires them all. The real problem is the door into the outhouse. Most swing in, allowing me to kick hard and speed inside before the automatic closer, also required, runs the door up against my ass end. Getting out?? I may be able to pull the door a little at a time, but since I need my right hand to both operate the Jazzy and yank the handle and fight the closer, a ridiculous, herky jerk party of frustrated comedy, I'm usually better off to wait for a dude to come in or call Amy on my cell phone provided I didn't drop it on he floor during all the commotion entering. If I drop the phone, I gotta holler. By the way, I like to use a urinal if possible, where the ADA feels it unnecessary to require grab bars, likely because they assume wheel chair guys can't stand up, probably generally true, nearly so in my case but not quite, propelling me to pull upright with the only grab suitable, the sweaty pipe exiting upward from the porcelain to the flusher. As long as I visit old restrooms, I can find sweaty vertical pipes. I love sweaty vertical pipes. I also hate all bathroom doors.
The MDA offered to lend me a power chair until I order my Stephen Hawking Special through (sort of) Medicare. I introduced you to (Little) Jazzy. Now you must meet Big Fred- a battery powered wheel chair with thumb control, 4 speeds, a 15 mile range, a zero gravity full recline feature that appears to lack a value anywhere near its cost, a wide, deep seat for wide, though not necessarily deep users, a top speed nowhere near as fast as the Jazz, weighing in at a whopping 350 lbs empty. I do admit that Fred is the superior off roader.
I have dumped Little Jazzy once, narrowly missing a second spill thanks to a lightning fast Days Inn manager. She literally shoved Jazz back down to 6 wheels. Both incidents occurred when I made a left turn before clearing my lift platform. I promise to be more careful.
One more visit to the privy. I can turn on a faucet with one hand, although I hate the kind where you push the spring loaded button on top and quickly wash before the flow stops. I'm just no as fast as I used to be. My real problem begins when I have to depress the soap dispenser with the same hand that is to receive the suds. I usually have to mop the the soap off the counter. Next I wash my hand with my hand. Get it? I find this about as effective as applauding in the same way. I've considered, and occasionally administered a technique whereby I unzip, work some magic and do my business without touching a thing (haha, insider chuckle), thus eliminating a trip to the sink. Now about that pesky door..............................................
First I claim that things go better when I'm in control. Especially when it's me. Physically. In a chair with wheels. In a pushed device, I am at the mercy of someone else. In a crowded room, when conversation comes up, usually with my pusher, I find myself three feet outside of the talking circle. I now know how it feels to be a kid in a stroller. Add this to the actual fact that many people feel perfectly fine to speak to the back of my head, plus the truth, spoken by my friend Joan, that I/we are now at butt level, and you should be able to feel my pain. Joan's pain. I simply lacked the power to cast a spell over my dominion. I needed self propulsion.
Jazzy- a battery powered scooter with a thumb control, 5 speeds, a 15 mile range, a reclining bucket seat and a top speed of 5 miles per hour. 150 lbs. Nimble. Super cool, stylish. A very generous gift from great friends. I use it every single day. It gets me everywhere I need to go since we bought a van with a hydraulic lift. I have recently learned of the inadequacies of modern ADA approved facilities, especially public restrooms, very especially restaurants and gas stations. Of course they have the grab bars, the big stalls and the high toilets. The ADA requires them all. The real problem is the door into the outhouse. Most swing in, allowing me to kick hard and speed inside before the automatic closer, also required, runs the door up against my ass end. Getting out?? I may be able to pull the door a little at a time, but since I need my right hand to both operate the Jazzy and yank the handle and fight the closer, a ridiculous, herky jerk party of frustrated comedy, I'm usually better off to wait for a dude to come in or call Amy on my cell phone provided I didn't drop it on he floor during all the commotion entering. If I drop the phone, I gotta holler. By the way, I like to use a urinal if possible, where the ADA feels it unnecessary to require grab bars, likely because they assume wheel chair guys can't stand up, probably generally true, nearly so in my case but not quite, propelling me to pull upright with the only grab suitable, the sweaty pipe exiting upward from the porcelain to the flusher. As long as I visit old restrooms, I can find sweaty vertical pipes. I love sweaty vertical pipes. I also hate all bathroom doors.
The MDA offered to lend me a power chair until I order my Stephen Hawking Special through (sort of) Medicare. I introduced you to (Little) Jazzy. Now you must meet Big Fred- a battery powered wheel chair with thumb control, 4 speeds, a 15 mile range, a zero gravity full recline feature that appears to lack a value anywhere near its cost, a wide, deep seat for wide, though not necessarily deep users, a top speed nowhere near as fast as the Jazz, weighing in at a whopping 350 lbs empty. I do admit that Fred is the superior off roader.
I have dumped Little Jazzy once, narrowly missing a second spill thanks to a lightning fast Days Inn manager. She literally shoved Jazz back down to 6 wheels. Both incidents occurred when I made a left turn before clearing my lift platform. I promise to be more careful.
One more visit to the privy. I can turn on a faucet with one hand, although I hate the kind where you push the spring loaded button on top and quickly wash before the flow stops. I'm just no as fast as I used to be. My real problem begins when I have to depress the soap dispenser with the same hand that is to receive the suds. I usually have to mop the the soap off the counter. Next I wash my hand with my hand. Get it? I find this about as effective as applauding in the same way. I've considered, and occasionally administered a technique whereby I unzip, work some magic and do my business without touching a thing (haha, insider chuckle), thus eliminating a trip to the sink. Now about that pesky door..............................................
just use your pants to wipe,most of the time the paper towel machines are non-functional or empty!can't help with the door,unless you leave it open?
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