I answer that it is February 20.
“Not bad, let’s see,” he shuffles through the paperwork. “Ordered this on November 4, that means it’s been a little more than three months. Really, not bad, huh?”
I answer him, “Nope, not bad at all.” All the while, I’m thinking, “You weren’t the one stuck sitting in a wheelchair, sitting on a painful pressure sore for the last six months (because actually, I’d been treating this sore that long – but hey, who’s counting?)”
Honestly, Roger, the salesman from Saginaw Medical, Karen & Sue – the wound care specialists who treated my sore – my doctors, and social workers, basically all parties involved, did a great job filling out oodles of forms, dotting all the I’s and crossing all the T’s, necessary to help me get my snazzy new power wheelchair.
My Grape Ape.
So named for its pretty purple base, and because I was a kid in the ’80s, and by naming it, like every chair I’ve ever had (guess they’re kind of like pets, or kids) the chair becomes mine. And a name makes it real.
Yes, it’s real. My chair. My MS. And hate it as I did, the real truth is that, like it or not, I need this chair.
And I hope that you have gathered from its name, it’s a big, powerful chair. It’s not small. Not subtle like my old chairs Fred and Belle were. No messing with this chair… it means business. It has hydraulics, a headrest, and better foot positioning to relieve pressure from sitting all-day, everyday.
I need a chair that relieves pressure and, fortunately this one does. As I’ve mentioned, it’s bigger but as strange as it sounds, that makes me uncomfortable.
I’m uncomfortable because, does this mean my MS is worse? Will it make people look at me differently? Do I care? Will Dan and my caregivers still be able to transfer me? Will I see myself differently?
Lots of questions. Not a lot of answers. That is so typical of this stupid disease.
But for right now, I’m just sitting comfortably… kind of forgot how good that feels.