Who do I sue?

I need to consult my lawyer about future accidents in my wheelchair because they are coming.

I want to know who is liable when I flip into the road because my wheels don't go up and over bumps as they should. Do I sue the wheelchair maker, the wheelchair provider, all of the above?

Tonight, I realized that was is preventing a major incident with me and my chair is my reflexes. Trust me, you don't want to bet on my reflexes.

Here is what happened, but it is not a never-before event:

I was walking Claren down a sidewalk, my right side nearest the street.

Sidewalks have curbs on them usually, no major bump, just like a fraction of an inch higher than the sidewalk proper.

As I went down the sidewalk -- slowly because Claren needs me to go slow -- the right front wheel touched the curb. It shouldn't have been a problem. The wheel should have easily bounced up it, and I should have just kept going.

Instead, the right wheel banged heavily on the ridiculously small bump, and because it could not flow up the bump, it caused the left side of the chair to swing right. So I was more or less on my way into the street. And at this point, the right wheel does bounce over the bump, so momentum has me headed into the street ... until my reflexes swung the chair back to the left.

This chair is crap.

10-minute transfer

Gee, I thought in mid-transfer from my chaise to my chair last night, I haven't had to call my sister for help after she's gone to bed in a while.

I had more than enough time to have this thought and other less PG ones because it was a 10-minute transfer. I got stuck.

My chaise is a few inches lower than my chair, so I have to rise up to get on the chair. Last night, my legs decided they weren't up to the task.

In their defense, I made it to the metal seat of my chair, but my cushion is several inches above that. And they could not push me past and onto the cushion. Also in their defense, the cushion was blocking me.

I sat there on a razor's edge of wheelchair, my arms on the chaise holding me up.

Finally, I was able to move my arms without falling, and I used one to move my chair thisclose to the chaise. The other arm moved my legs into a better pushing position. Then I leaned back, grabbed my wheelchair arms and forced my butt into the seat.

And I haven't had to wake my sister up for a while and a day.

New glasses

I went to the optometrist today ... unwillingly.

The people who fix my glasses were asking every time I visited if I wanted to make an appointment, and it was getting old.

My glasses are also worn out and need replacing, but you need an updated prescription to get new glasses. So there I was at the optometrist.

It's not that I was scared. But my glasses are fine (I thought. Apparently the new prescription is a big change.), so why go?

It is hard to see anybody who requires you to put your face on machines, which are often in small spaces not meant for wheelchairs. Or who requires you to transfer to their chair  (and you really should offer to help, not more or less ignore the person until he transfers).

Now I am good for a few years at least.

Back in the good old days, wheelchairs were good

My first power wheelchair had some issues, but the battery was great -- never failed -- and the port for the charger was really easy to use.

My second power chair -- my previous one -- had a lot of issues. But, as I was reminded this week when I had to use it for a few days, it does have redeeming qualities, too. For instance, it had like an automatic transmission.

Power chairs don't stop running when you stop pushing the joystick. The acceleration stops, but the momentum keeps pushing the chair forward a bit. This is really noticeable in my current chair. I can roll down our ramp backward if I push the joystick forward for a second. It goes forward, then goes into neutral and the ramp causes it to slide backward, like pushing in the clutch in a car on a hill.

My previous chair had a neutral time, but it was real slight. The wheelchair guy said all new chairs have extended neutral times. The new chair is also not as good as rolling up bumps.

It is like newer chairs are worse ... on purpose.

Funny?

I am trying to decide if I am becoming a grumpy crank regarding jokes about wheelchairs. Not from my friends or family.

Earlier this week, I watched The Big Bang Theory. Leonard was on his way to a boat in the North Sea with Stephen Hawking's team to research some science thing. But Penny was concerned, Won't Professor Hawking just roll off?

Really, is she that dumb? Wheelchairs have brakes, and boats have railings. Plus,   Hawking wasn't going; his team was.

It seemed like a silly and lazy joke. So I tried to come up with another line that would work. It wasn't easy. The only thing I could come with is

• "What if his wheelchair rusts?"
• "Won't it be hard to use his voice thing if he is wearing gloves?"

But the second suggests that the North Sea is real cold, but it is not.

I still can't decide if it was a funny joke.

I did laugh at Modern Family's joke involving a wheelchair the other day, but that was not so much about the chair.

Haley was mocking a community college brochure's standard diversity photo and said, wow, that guy in the wheelchair is really cracking them up.

So I just don't know.

Mustn't ... Squish ... Puppy

Claren is not a huge KennyD fan.

A few days before my sister and her family picked up their new puppy, Kenny, one of my nieces told her not to let me run over him.

I thought she was kidding. But holy cow, it is a challenge.

He seems drawn to moving wheels and is definitely drawn to Claren, who is usually near me.

And he is so tiny. One false roll, and it's bye-bye, Kenny. And as my sister told him tonight, don't get run over; we'd be mad at both you and Uncle Matt.

When my awesome goddaughter was a baby, she too liked to explore around my chair.She got trapped under my chair once, but it was a manual. I would not have squished her.

I am counting on a growth spurt soon to solve the issue. I cannot be trusted to drive safely.

Another sister

I have been at my job for a little over a year and a half. Apparently, that is also the time it takes for co-worker friends to channel my little sister.

I was using my manual chair today, and I had to go downtown, which means riding a shuttle.

My friend pushed me on the lift and held on, saying, Do you lock your wheels on the lift? Or should I say, should you?

I lockedw my wheels.

Comfy but trouble

I am back in my new chair these days. I spent the weekend and early part of the week shuffling back and forth between my old power chair and my manual chair after my new chair started not working. It started randomly telling me "ctrl inhibited"and it would stop running.

This first happened just before the Inaugural Parade. (Did I mention I was in the parade? My sister thinks I am getting a big head about it, but I think she is just jealous that strangers aren't coming up to her and saying "Good job!" Work strangers but still ...)

I thought it was just because a pebble got lodged somewhere. We were on gravel and someone just poking around fixed it.

But then it happened again at home. And again. And again.

Wow, it is really no fun to be stuck in a chair that doesn't work.

The wheelchair folks fixed it in a day, but the threat of winter weather kept the chair at the store for  a few extra days. I have to go back to address some other issues.

It is amazing how uncomfortable my old chair now is, and I like my new chair. But wheelchairs in general just suck.

Fucking wheelchair

One of my uncle sang a song when we were little. It was called I'm mad or something and featured a verse about taking someone down to the riverside and holding them under the water as the bubbles came up, then the bubbles stopped. (Lest you think my uncle is some crazy soiopath, it is John Lee Hooker's I'm bad like Jesse James.)

I was trying to remember the song this afternoon because I was so damn mad.

I was driving into the van tonight at work and I misjudged the ramp and got stuck half-on, half-off. Mom went to get the guard, but he had to stay at his post. He called for help, but it was close to half-an-hour before someone came. He helped.

First, he helped me out of the chair. Then he pulled it free. He did not make fun of me for my falling-down pants. He helped me back in the chair, waited till I got in the car and wouldn't take any cash for helping. Awesome.


But that was about the only good thing. I was furious that:

• My wheelchair is bigger than my previous one. I would swear the wheelchair guy said the ne chair's footprint was smaller, but it is wider and longer. Nothing to do about it really. It's the reality.
• Even after four months in the chair, I still can't drive it properly. I turn poorly all the time.
• No one in the garage stopped to see if I needed help. Maybe they didn't notice, but it surprised me.
• I was not strong enough to move the chair. Another illusion melts away.

Oh well.

An accident waiting to happen

Let's be honest: I am always an accident waiting to happen. But it got worse when I went to the wheelchair place for some adjustments.

They were awesome. The joystick is lower and now goes under the sink. The suspension is better. My feet sit properly on the footrests.

It's the foot thing that just might kill me.

I have something called ankle huggers now. They are just what they sound like -- straps that attach my ankles to the chair. In other words, I have to unhook them before getting out of my hair.

This should be good.

Not remorse ... yet

I don't have buyer's remorse, but I am noticing some frustrating things about my chair.

i mentioned the height, but I realized today that it is wider and longer than my old chair. I thought it was supposed to be smaller. The width might explain why I keep hitting doorways on my way through them. They are actually going to redo the wheelchair stall at work because I keep hitting the walls as I go in.

The front casters also seem to be fixed and immoveable. This makes going up or down thresholds quite bumpy. I was pretty sure they are supposed to move, so I am not sure what the deal is.

It is more comfortable, my feet sit better, the swing-away arm is better, I like the tilt ... it is just ...

I am trying to get some answers from the wheelchair folks.

My new ride

The coolest feature of my new Invacare wheelchair is actually not part of the chair at all. It is a handy accessory that plugs into the battery port and offers both a headlight and a USB port.

The wheelchair guy threw it in because it is cool and he uses one. He probably was feeling generous because my chair cost more than a new low-end Honda Civic. I am not paying for it all, just saying -- wheelchairs aren't cheap.

I never felt particularly bad in my old chair, so it is astonishing how good I feel in this one. It has a special back with lots of curves and lateral supports and a curved cushion. They both make me sit up so straight. I love it. A friend at work said I look so much better.

It also has a real chest restraint that is more comfy than the Batman belt.

And the swing-away arm actually swings away! It sits almost next to the arm rest when swung away. Even straight, it is still behind my knees.

The only issue is height. I am a lot taller. I an no longer sit at the dining room table to eat. I need to use a tray. That's fine. Less cool is that I no longer fit under my sink. I can get pretty close but no longer all the way under.

All in all, though, I am happy.

I'm never moving to the West Coast

I have been through one earthquake that I know of. I am counting on there being another during my life.

Work isn't so sure. They scheduled a Shake-Out drill today and made a point to give us chair users special instructions: Stay in your chair, get away from windows, bend over if possible, cover your head and hold on.

I wasn't sure how to cover my head and hold on, but as I told one of the supervisors that asked if I needed help, I am a pro at duck and cover. So I was all set for the drill.

I waited and waited. Then someone stopped by my office and asked how I liked the drill.

I totally didn't hear the alarm. I am doomed.

Still alive

No one who has Friedreich's ataxia can really say he is lucky.

You have struck out from the very moment of conception, managing to get the bad gene from both your mother and your father.

But I am lucky. Family and friends, sure. A good job, oh yeah. 

Actually, though, tonight I am thinking that I am lucky to be sitting at my computer instead of lying in a hospital.

I went for a walk tonight without Mom, so I was cruising along in the dark with my lights on. I was getting ready to cross a street when a car on the street I was on turned on its lights. Maybe that threw me. All I know is that I rammed the opposite curb with my chair. Actually, I hit a sewer opening in the curb and my chair leaned perilously close to tipping over. Somehow it didn't. 

So, I just came home and tried not to throw up at how close I came to hurting myself.

No pee! But ...

Today was the first day this week that the urinator did not soil the toilet seat of the wheelchair toilet!

But the day also saw my first tumble onto the floor under my desk at work, into Claren's water bowl. So, I am not sure whether it was a good day, despite it pee-freeness.

I was getting ready to go to a meeting when I leaned forward to grab something on my desk.

I almost immediately realized my seat belt was not buckled. I don't know why. Maybe I forgot to do it when I left the bathroom although it seems unlikely. Maybe it just failed, which given the history of this POS wheelchair seems likely.

I did not have the strength or balance to lean back once I started leaning forward, so I let myself fall to my desk, hoping I could catch myself there. I managed to put my head on my desk but only for a few seconds. Then I fell to the floor and put my arm in Claren's water bowl.

I wasn't hurt and quickly moved to stand. A co-worker happened by at that point, and saw me.  I asked her to grab a co-worker to help me. She did. But she also told like everyone in the office. Another guy came to help. My boss came. An HR woman stopped by several times to make sure I was OK.

OK, yes. Humiliated, that, too.

Crappiness pays off

I accept that I broke my wheelchair's controller arm and therefore deserve some blame, but who designs a wheelchair so the weakest part sticks way out alone in front of even your knees and even swung-away sticks out farther than the wheelchair seat?

If one loses one's balance and grabs for help to prevent a fall, one might be expected to grab the piece that sticks out. And if one had poor fine motor skills, the piece out front might get hit a bit more than usual. And if it tilts up, this out-alone piece might tend to ride up counters and other immoveable objects. But I am not a wheelchair designer ... at least not like the people at Pride.

I realize that all these potential problems should, of course, be of no consequence to most wheelchair users. Having the balance of an Olympic gymnast, they never fall. They have the fine motor skills of a concert  pianist so never have steering issues, either.

I do, though.

And my chair's controller arm has broken -- I have the pieces to prove it.

This has paid off several times when I or Dad has been able to fix a break by swapping parts out.

This time we had even more luck than normal.

The controller itself died a while back, and the repair shop switched the whole arm out. They also gave me the old arm.So Dad just swapped arms. Works again. Thank goodness, it has been so bad I have had to replace it often.

Another wheelchair fail

I noticed as I was sitting in my chaise tonight that the controller arm was swinging way to the outside.

Sure enough, it has broken. A screw sheered in half, with part still in the controller.

It is not too shocking really. This same thing has happened three or four times in the past. The person I am working with to get a new chair specifically ordered a controller that isn't this poorly designed.

But the new chair is a ways away still, and I am left with this POS. It is made by a company named Pride Mobility; I hope the designers are aren't proud.

Taxi driver

I am waiting for my new beaded seat cushion to come in the mail from Amazon. I will soon realize my dream of looking like a taxi driver.

It looks kind of dorky, actually.

I cut off the seat part and just use the back. It may look silly.

But it will mean I do not have to wring out my shirt when I get home. I hate my wheelchair, did you know? The back is bulky and is made of cheap plastic that cracks real easy and stores heat.

A dorky look is a small price to pay.

This person, I like

I spend too much time with my head down, especially when I am out walking and really especially when it is sunny ... like today.

I was actually looking down the street today -- I did not have my head down. They were doing construction and I wanted to see if I could get by.

But I wasn't watching where I was going, and I heard this awful scrape and my chair kind of went thud.

I ran into a big hole in the grass next to the sidewalk.

Before I could even see if I was stuck, one of the flag guys on the road crew was asking me if I needed help. I said sure. He got a second member of the crew to come over and help me.

He pulled my chaIr out of the hole easy and went back to work.

Pretty nice.

I am amazing, but Claren deserves the credit

Claren got two gold stars for yesterday.

First, I went into the restroom, and the door to the wheelchair stall was closed. I went closer, though, and noticed that it wasn't locked or anything, so I figured it was unoccupied. I opened it and waited for Claren to go in, like she always does. She didn't, and only then did I hear the voice saying, "I'll be out in a minute."

I almost walked in on a co-worker!

At lunch, I went for a walk and after Claren did her business, I bent over to get it.

I heard this voice but didn't see anyone. Then this woman appeared -- she must have been across the street when she saw me -- and asked me if I wanted her to pick up the poop. I said no but thanks. She replied, I guess you do this a lot.

When I admitted I do pick up after Claren regularly, she said, "You are amazing." So just SUCK IT, low esteem.

Anyway, she then told me how she is always so happy when people help her. I agreed, but told her I didn't want to make anyone else pick up poop. Again she said, "You are amazing."

Let me point out here that she was quite a cutie.

She also told me that people in her neighborhood did not pick up after their dogs, and they weren't in chairs.

I considered asking if she lives in my neighborhood because I see the the guy across the street walk his dog but have never seen him with a bag. But I didn't.

I remembered this scene from Spider-Man that includes the line "You are amazing." My encounter did not end as well.