The prevent defense sucks in football and life

I hate when the Redskins play the "bend but don't break" defense because it never works. They give up 5 yards abd 5 yards, and then they break miserably, give up a touchdown and lose the game again.

But this is what I am reduced to playing in life. I bend, oh yes, I bend, much farther than I think possible. Unlike the Redskins I don't break, at least not yet.

Tonight, I left in the middle of a good Simpsons to go for a walk with Claren. We went down the other side of the street because the sun was still hitting that sidewalk. The sun did make it hard to look ahead, though, and maybe that is why I didn't see the 6-inch ditch next to the sidewalk. The lush green grass also covered it well ... until I hit it.

The grass gave way and my right front wheel plunged downward. I pitched forward, bending at the waist and wound up resting on my joystick and pushing it forward. Fortunately, the middle wheels, which are the ones that move, were touching nothing. The right middle wheel was in the ditch but not all the way down. The left middle wheel was in the air as I tilted awkwardly.

I am not sure how I avoided falling over; I actually envisioned it. Given the precariousness I was afraid to move but knew if I didn't sit up, I'd be doomed. Somehow I got both feet on the ground and pushed myself up. Then I used my legs to push me and the chair backward. At the same time, I was giving the chair juice to move back. These got me out of the ditch and from there I got back on the sidewalk.

Just as I recovered, an SUV stopped and a mom with several 10-year-old girls asked if I was OK. I told her I was. I don't think she meant metaphysically or emotionally.

All this happened after I wrote the following post. I wrote it when I got home from work because I could not nap because the people who clean my condo were there, never mind that they were due last week and come on Wednesdays:

You're really used to this, the echocardiogram tech said as I flopped off the examining table into my chair. I didn't say anything, but I was thinking that yes, after nine plus years of full-time wheelchair use, I know how to get my body from here to there. I knew, for instance, that I would be OK because I had a tight grasp on my chair and the bed. I knew that my legs would buckle, but that the muscles would eventually kick in and keep me off the floor.

But I am used to it? Oh, no. I don't know if I ever will be, or even want to be. Almost every transfer brings with a breathless curse. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. And there is nothing I can do about it.

Nothing but not break, I guess.