Moving forward....Almost.

     I never imagined what is exciting me right now.  I believe I am within several weeks of getting my wheelchair--a red wheelchair.  This week, I have felt the sense that everyone wants to see me getting what I never imagined might be best for me--the woman at the insurance company, my physiatrist, primarily.  I do not mean, by any stretch of the imagination, to slight the tremendous of family and friends.  It took me a year to come to terms with the notion that a wheelchair was my vehicle to living fully.  I knew I needed to come to terms with the idea--be emotionally comfortable with the idea--before I could engage in the advocacy necessary to go through the doctor appointments, the physical mobility assessments, and the stress associated with how well I could use the wheelchair.
   It is quite odd, at the moment my level of anticipation outweighs the prospect of losing use of my left hand.  That is MUCH more significant than you might appreciate, unless you know me.  All of my life I have had no fine motor skills in my right hand.  I use my left hand to a FAR greater degree than other people, who have full use of both hands.  That is not worthy of trumpeting on a daily basis.  In simple terms, I have never known any other way of living with regard to my hands.  Today, I said yes to the option to getting something that I may use if I come to the point of not having the requisite use of my left hand.  The full implications of not having the use of my left hand that I have today is not something that I can fixate my attention at this moment.
    My excitement may be more aptly described as satisfaction with myself.  In late December, when I met with my doctor to have the requisite mobility assessment for a motor scooter/wheelchair, I wanted nothing to do with either.  I begrudgingly opted for a scooter.  That was all that my emotions could handle.  In fact, when I tried to use several scooters, I was shown a wheelchair to try using.  I accepted the invitation to try it in the store.  Something seemed different, but, I didn't know what it was.  I stood up, and the man at the medical supply store said that I had been using an electric wheelchair.
   "What?"
     It couldn't be.  It just couldn't be.  I was too young.  Only old people--people who were slumped over-- used wheelchairs.  People in wheelchairs had speech impairments.  They could not be understood.  Their thinking was impaired.
     I am too young.  I don't have any speech impairments.  The doctors may have had serious doubts as to whether I would ever talk.  But, I proved them wrong.  And my thinking is not delayed--it is not impaired.  OK, my thinking is not exactly clear immediately following a seizure.  But, my seizures are rare.  I made my way through college.  I was not a star student by a long shot.  But, I did return, and was graduated with a master's degree.  And they said I would fall flat on my face--not in so many words, but through actions of doubt.
    "You did well with the wheelchair."
    "What?  That can't be."
     I left the store bewildered.  My insurance case manager called me.
    "Patty, think long term.  Think beyond what your immediate needs are.  Think what you will need in five years."
      "I don't want to.  That is too much.  That is too daunting for me.  What are YOU going to need in five years?"
     Dreaming that I was in a combination scooter/wheelchair, as I was crashing into the activity room of an assisted care facility unable to find the brakes did not help one bit.  I was completely out of control.  The nightmare of crashing into people was so vivid.  I was out of control--completely out of control.
     So, what was the turning point?  There were two.   First was time.  Second, the experience of being able to turn around 360 degrees in the elevator, while sitting in the wheelchair.  Not having to back out of an elevator.  I am sure there will be some of that.  Right now, I cannot focus on that.
     This has been a long road.  One and three-quarter years of not working, having diminishing stamina, and an arthritic ankle have taken their toll.  My mind needs what a wheelchair will offer.  To feel the support, and affirmation of my doctor, my case manager, and the medical supply company president was....no....is empowering.