that's what we're hear for, my friend!
but Frank, surely you don't think that I followed my own advice, did you?
in a perfect world, I was just pleased as punch to be using a w/c, mentally adjusted, serene, and carefree.
bzzzzzzzzzzzzttttt...
(lies all lies !)
just remember, I've been dealing with this charming dis-ease since 1988, so I'm sorta telling you about how I WISH I had handled it, in my past-gazing rose-colored glasses.
I sulked, I cried, I whined, I futzed with the leg rests and foot rests, often pinching a finger (and uttering choice epithets!), trying to make the darn thing comfortable.
the chair made my back ache, and I tried pillows, behind, and under... wah wah wah...
and I *detested* having someone push me, and them not paying attention
(think... an idiot trying to back up a car with a trailer attached, for the first time), and not realizing just how much length they're moving, or how far ahead they have to plan.
I've been dumped out of the chair into the street, when the curb dipped suddenly... had my feet smooshed into table legs, walls, doorjambs, and railings...
had way too many challenges, living in a historic Gold Rush town, with accessibility-code violations 4 times per block... no elevators, etc. etc.
so, I got a power chair, and then I was happy, because I could drive myself (YAY !!)
and rode happily ever after, into the sunset, toking and grinning...
