Sunday, April 19, 2009

You Know

I was on wooden floor, I gave myself a hard push and sat back. I rolled, glided along before gently coming to a stop. Praise be.

The day I left on this trip, first New Jersey then Connecticut, I had an appointment for my wheelchair to have a spring cleaning. My chair gets used a lot, it travels a lot, it carries a lot. Over time I can feel the wheels gumming up, crud gathering around the ball bearings, fatigue sinking into it's frame. A couple times a year I get the wheelchair people to come and check it over and spruce it up.

They arrived way late for the appointment, two very tall boys came to take the chair to fix up. They looked like brothers, but weren't, they were beanpoles who looked about three days older than sperm. As the main guy folded up the chair to take it out, I felt this real twinge. I was trusting this kid with my mobility. I was going on a trip in minutes, I started to change my mind just as he looked up at me and said, 'I know.'

That's all.

'I know.'

I let the chair go. Joe arrived a few minutes later and told me he'd seen the two guys with the chair. They'd just taken it out by the elevator where there was room to work. One of the wheels was off and ... I asked him to stop. I didn't need to know.

I worried over the chair like it was flesh and blood. A few minutes later the chair was back and the main guy was explaining what they did and what they found. The back wheels were fine, the front ones were the one's that needed cleaning. They fixed it so it folded more easily. He spoke with precision, care and even respect for the work he'd done with the chair.

Before they left I asked them how they got into wheelchair repair. The main guy said that he'd kind of fallen into it (there was a joke there but I didn't make it) and that he loved it because he got to ... he stopped and blushed wildly switched his words and said ... 'you know'.

Yeah I do.

So now I glide because some young kid likes to 'you know'.


rickismom said...

Yes, we DO know-- being sensitive human beings. Great post!

Brenda said...

I know. When you spoke about them taking your chair, I actually turned my head to make sure mine was where I'd left it. Yup...I know.

One Sick Mother said...

I know.

Kate said...

I don't know, but I can guess. :)

CJ said...

What is there to "know?"


weeble said...

How wonderful when someone "knows". Came here via

Monica English said...

My 18 month old daughter will never walk, but I hope she has the same tender experience with her chair as you do.

miss kitten said...

cj, when your mobility is the wheels, you have that moment of fear when someone takes off with it that something is going to happen and it wont come back right, or worse yet, wont come back at all.

*that* is the "i know". being sensitive to the fear of the person who needs those wheels to get around, whose being able to have a *life* hangs on that chair.

i use one one and off. i know.

Anonymous said...

DAve, I would ask you to ponder your recent remarks on various young people you've encountered. Those in the elevator with the "old twat," those at the model convention, and those who came to work on the wheelchair. It seems as perhaps there is a rush to judgement in some of your comments these days that I find concerning in someone who mission to seems to be to fight bias.