On April 14, 2011, my life changed dramatically. One year of denial and resistance to my needs. One year of fear, "People are going to be condescending toward me." Finally, my resistance gave way in the face of debilitating ankle weakness--complete lack of stamina.
Two months ago, that changed. Invacare FDX-MCG is hardly captivating, or intuitive. Yes, FDX means "front-wheel drive," and "MCG" means "center of gravity." Front-wheel drive gives me the traction I need to navigate in wet conditions, although we should not be out in heavy rain.
Zoomer has transformed my electric wheelchair fears into personal liberation.
Never have I been an outdoors person. I am not athletic. Childhood neighbors' GREAT DANES instilled in me paralyzing fears of animals. They were far taller than I was. I wanted no part of being trampled by these GIANTS. So, little has tantalized any outdoor desires I might have had.
Then....then, an interminably long Minnesota winter, the magnitude of snow not seen since the late 1960s, germinated in me not just a desire, but a yearning to be outside--to stay outside--to live beyond health's necessary confines dictated by a weak ankle. Opportunity presented itself from an unlikely place to open the doors--exceed the confines of my necessary confines--an insurance company advocate knowledgeable of available vehicles of freedom. She guided me through the winding roads of the adoption process. Truly amazing.
Fast forward to April 14, 2011. Four months of labor gave birth to Invacare FDX-MCG--Zoomer.
Never a mother, never a driver, this large infant--an elephant in my room--was frightening. Unbelievable to many, my long confinement extinguished knowledge of where do I want to go? Fundamental survival instincts were beyond my comprehension.
Door jambs, narrow hallways, doors, handicap-accessible doors, and elevators were among the infant steps to be taken at a snail's pace on level 2 of the four levels of the wheelchair available to me. Interminable--painful--sounds of Zoomer's dancing wheels did not help my confidence. Yet, that yearning for freedom overrode my fears. Slowly, the knowledge that the nicks never dented my body--never injured anyone else--or Zoomer's seemingly indestructible body accelerated my confidence.
I have never been a risk taker, or so I think. I have been fiesty--one who tried to push the envelope of others' expectations--yet, never a risk taker. I have never been a risk taker--never a gambler. Yet, now placed on the table before me is a necessary risk--a gamble I must take. I am not a person of stupid risks. Though poor in math, I am a calculating person. Before I knew to count, I was naturally calculating in my breaths.
I cannot live within the confines of my home's safe cocoon. I must open the door. I must lap up the pool's buoyant waters. I must strengthen my legs. I must kick the arthritis from my ankle's innards. Zoomer is the vehicle to drive me toward my goals--to fulfill my needs, to satisfy my desires.
Yet, Zoomer, "What are your capabilities--your capacities? What are your limits? Rain? How much? How heavy? Snow? What depth? How far may I travel by the power of Baron's battery? Watt must I do? Am I speaking the language native to your understanding? TELL me. Do tell me. I MUST know.
These are the this anniversary's answers I seek. Yet, I know you may not choose to wrap up these answers and present them to me today. This is my wish list. Should you wish to present me with answers in a future anniversary's gift, I would not complain.
For now, engage me--present me with engagement in today's life.
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