New Wheels, Gotta Roll

At very long last, my new wheelchair arrived on Thursday.

It’s a thing of beauty. More importantly, it’s mine. Not on loan from the medical supply company. Fitted for me, with everything tightened up where it ought to be. Smooth and shiny (for now, anyway). Ready for the accessories I’ll inevitably buy to make it even more my own.

I felt a weird sense of separation anxiety while parting ways with the one I’d used for the months between when I left the hospital and when the paperwork went through for my longer-term set of wheels. Much as I complained about that rickety old thing, it took me so many places and facilitated so much of my recovery to date. I’d grown inexplicably affectionate of its idiosyncrasies and was even able to forgive its tendency to do stuff such as flip me onto my back.

I quickly got over the nostalgia, though, and embraced Wheelhelmina (thanks, C—the name is perfect) with an open heart and arms eager to self-propel me to the future. May our relationship be free of falls, and may our travels together be smooth, frequent, and rewarding.