Trying for neatness almost kills me

Three things to keep in mind as you read this story: 1. I have no balance. 2. I have night sweats. Last night I slept in shorts and a T-shirt and still was covered by a nice little sheen of sweat (because I am so freaking HOT). 3. I have poor aim, so any clothes that I take off in bed don't wind up in the clothes hamper but on the floor nearby.

Last night, I decided to take off my long-sleeve shirt while I was still in my chair.

This was fine until I pulled the shirt over my head. At that point, my trunk flopped over the arm of the chair. I thought I was going to go completely over, which might have been bad.

Instead of slipping out of the chair, I fell on to the arm and my shirt, which was over my eyes, got caught on the joystick. (Yeah, I was in the power chair; that is a fourth thing to keep in mind.) I was too weak to get off the arm, especially since I could not see. The joystick started pressing hard into my stomach; the chair started moving; my legs got caught in the legs.

I banged into this wooden shelf set that backs into the wall, so the chair had nowhere else to go. Not that it stopped trying. I was caught between the shelf and a moving power chair, with my eyes blindfolded essentially.

I managed to turn the chair off, but I was still stuck. I actually thought I might need to call for help – not that I could reach my phone easily. This will probably make someone demand I get one of those "I've fallen and can't get up" dealies. The worst part was that I was still lying on the stupid wheelchair horn, so that pathetic beep was sounding.

At first I thought my hands, which were on the shelf, were holding me up, but I realized I could move them cautiously. My body was wedged in good – it was not going anywhere — so I moved my hands around till I could push myself up.

Now I was upright but still stuck. I also got my shirt down around my body. But what now? I could not move the shelf as it was up against the wall; the chair was too heavy. You know how parents find the strength to lift cars to free their kids? I guess that is what happened. I pushed and pushed, and the chair and shelf moved – maybe a quarter inch.

That was enough, though. I squeezed out. TA-DA! And promptly fell on my wheelchair feet.

My real feet were still kind of wedged by the chair, so I finally turned the chair back on and backed it up, freeing my feet and allowing me to flop on to the floor safe.

It was all anticlimactic after that. I lay there for a bit. Claren came over after watching the whole scene, probably wondering: "WTF?" Then I got into the chair and into bed and then took off my shirt, which is lying on the floor now. To hell with putting it in the hamper.