Surrendering to Charlie

I hated Charlie six months before I met him.  Even simply thinking about Charlie, and having to rely on him daily felt like a sucker punch to my gut.  To me, Charlie marked me as a failure.  Before I go on I should let you in on a little secret: Charlie is what I affectionately call my electric power wheelchair. 

            You’ve heard me say before that I treasure my independence and that I have the tendency to want to do things that I may not be physically able to.  These traits made themselves painfully obvious during my college orientation.  My college campus is spread out on a hill of rather steep grade in Nashville, Tennessee.  The one time I visited prior I thought I’d totally be able to handle maneuvering around the campus in my manual wheelchair.  The hills didn’t seem too insurmountable, and the weather was cool (after all it was November). 

When I showed up for freshman orientation in June there was no ignoring the hills and heat.  My mother thought it’d be a good idea for me to do most of the pushing to get used to what would become my daily routine.  That evening the incoming freshman class was scheduled to go on a dinner cruise down the Cumberland River.  I remember the hour before leaving for the cruise so vividly that if I close my eyes I can recount every detail in the dorm room my mom and I were staying in, for that hour marks one of Emily’s Top 5 Emotional Breakdowns. 

As soon as the door of the room shut all the emotions and fears I had been holding in throughout the day were unleashed as if there was a crack in the Hoover Dam.  I knew there was no way I could conquer those hills everyday and go to classes too.  Then I launched into the “this college is really, really far from home” argument.  In five minutes flat I had myself convinced I would be going to the local community college 10 minutes from my house.  I’m not sure if my mom lightly slapped me or if she just yelled, but all of the sudden my entire being was transfixed on the words coming out of her mouth.  “Emily pull yourself together.  You can do this.  We’ll figure it out.  You’ll just have to get a power chair, that’s it.  Stop crying.  Suck it up.  Get ready for the dinner cruise; we’ll talk about this later.”  Part of me was annoyed that she wasn’t being very emotionally supportive, but she knew that I needed to get on that boat and not get hung up on the issues at hand.

I went on the cruise (being stuck on a boat for three hours when you’re emotionally doggie paddling is not my idea of fun).  I hung out with the band while most of my peers went up the cramped boat stairs to the rooftop deck.  I couldn’t wait to get back to that tiny dorm room, white cinderblock walls never appealed to me so much.  When my mom asked me how the night went I burst into tears again.  This time however she didn’t have to be the strong pillar she was earlier, she could just be mom. 

I had avoided getting a power chair all my life.  I hated the thought of having to depend on a machine for mobility.  My attitude was “if I can’t power it myself that means I fail”.  As my mom talked down my emotional high, she soon had me to a point where I could think power chair and not get mad at myself.  Also at the epicenter of the earthquake that was this particular breakdown was the underlying issue of homesickness.  Ironically enough that turned out to never really be an issue until the second semester of my junior year. 

The summer before I went off to college was filled with red tape as we waited for insurance denials, and resubmission denials, and finally Medicaid approval.  My power chair wouldn’t be ready until December, which left me without one for the first semester of college.  Luckily there was a couple at my church who had recently purchased one for a family member who had passed away before they got to use it.  The loaner chair wasn’t perfect, but with a few bungee cords, some duck tape, and two new batteries (that’s a whole other story), I made it work. 

When I came home for Christmas break and met Charlie for the first time it was a little bit like love at first sight.  That previous semester I got used to the power chair concept, but the loaner chair and I never bonded.  Wheelchair users bond with their chairs, it’s just a weird thing we (at least I) do (heck I refer to mine by name).  Charlie sat there in my kitchen shinny and red, he had the perfect support for my permanently straightened legs, and even had a battery gage!  I had learned that power chairs don’t hinder your independence, they enhance it.  With the tap of a joystick I could go anywhere on campus I wanted to, and not be tired from the trek there.  I love being able to take myself places; whether I use manpower or battery power, it no longer matters to me.  It was a hard lesson to learn, but oh man it was so worth the struggle.  Charlie and I have had our adventures (like tipping over, getting stuck in the snow, even sliding down a muddy hill in the rain), but I never regret surrendering to the idea of him.