"It's a Wrap!" - chapter 6

Maddie just sent me chapter 6 of her story. She says she's on a roll and hope to send me weekly updates from now on.  I'm glad her muse is more cooperative than mine.

Enjoy!

WEEK ELEVEN

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Meg asks for what feels like the thousandth time Thursday morning.

“I’m dropping the kids off at school and getting some groceries. I think I can manage,” I reply with annoyance lacing my voice. “It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

“I know, I just thought…”

“That because I’m paralyzed and in a wheelchair I’m not capable of picking up some groceries without assistance? Give me some credit here, Meg.”

“Chris…”

“Just don’t…” I hold my hand up to silence her. I can see her bottom lip quivering and her eyes moisten. I feel like an asshole, but for some reason I can’t restrain myself. Without saying anything else I put my hands on the pushrims and wheel out of the kitchen toward the garage where the kids are waiting by my car.

I get them both settled in the backseat before I wheel to the driver’s door and open it. It doesn’t take me long to transfer from my wheelchair to the driver’s seat and disassemble the wheelchair and place it in the passenger seat.

“All set?” I ask the kids as I buckle my seatbelt. I see them giving me thumbs up in the rear view mirror and push the start button on the dash and put it in reverse. A few moments later we’re on our way to Jayden’s school.  We drop him off in the drop off zone and the teacher supervising drop offs smiles and waves when she sees me. I wave back as I pull out into the street again. 

At Jacklyn’s kindergarten I have to take her inside, which means getting out of the car. When I pull into the parking lot I’m relieved to see that the handicapped parking spots are all available and I pull into the one the furthest from the entrance, to avoid having too much of an audience when I set up my chair and transfer to it.

Thankfully we’re running a little late and there aren’t many people milling around the parking lot at the moment. I open the door and start putting my wheelchair together. It takes me a few minutes and Jacklyn is getting impatient.

“Daddyyy! Hurry up. We’re late.”

“Just a minute, hon. I’ve got to set up my wheelchair and get into it.”

“I wish your legs still worked,” she says in a whiney voice. “You were faster when your legs worked.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. It’s the first time one of the kids voice a frustration over my disability. Fuck. I’m not going to lie. I hate the fact that I’m paralyzed. I hate that my car is now sporting permanent handicapped plates and is equipped with hand controls. But there’s nothing I can do to change it the only choice I have is to live with it and make the best of it.

“I wish they still worked too, but they don’t,” I reply quietly. “I’m almost ready, just hang on for a moment.”

I’ve finished setting up my chair and transfer to it, place my feet on the footrest and adjust my legs before I do a quick weight shift and back away from the door and slam it shut. I wheel around the car to the rear door to get Jacklyn out. She has already unbuckled her seatbelt when I open the door. I take her backpack and place it in my lap as she bounces out of the car. Moments later we’re on our way to the entrance.  We make it inside before the bell rings and we’re greeted by Jacklyn’s favorite teacher; Mrs. Jennings.

“Good morning, Jacklyn. It’s nice to see you again Mr. Ramsay. How are you?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Jennings. I’m good, thanks.” Before we can chat more the final bell rings and we say goodbye.

Fifteen minutes later I pull into the parking lot at the supermarket a few blocks from our house. I’m relieved that the parking lot is pretty much empty. After parking in one of the handicapped spots I make quick work of assembling my chair and transferring to it.

I wheel into the store and as soon as I pass the automatic doors I encounter my first obstacle; the wheelchair adapted shopping carts I got used to seeing in the grocery store a couple of blocks from the rehab center are absent. There are only regular shopping carts and baskets available. Shit! Using a regular cart is obviously not going to work and everything I’m getting won’t fit in a basket. This day just keeps getting better and better.

With an exasperated sigh I grab a basket and place it in my lap and wheel into the store.  As I make my way through the aisles my frustration level grows. I can’t reach the items on the top shelves and it’s annoying as hell to have to ask for help, but I know I don’t have a choice.  After about half an hour the basket in my lap is full and I make my way to checkout.

When I arrive back at my house another wave of frustration washes over me as I realize I’ll have to make two trips between the car and the garage to get everything inside. Why can’t things just be easy like before I crashed my bike?

Meg appears in the kitchen just as I’m emptying the bags of groceries on the kitchen table.

“Is that all you got? That’s only about half the stuff on the list I gave you,” she says, obviously annoyed.

“Well, the fucking supermarket doesn’t have wheelchair adapted carts, so I could only get what I could fit in a basket in my lap. I’ll get the rest of the stuff on my way back from PT.”

“Well, since you obviously didn’t put any thought into which half of the list you bought I have to go to the store now. I’m missing half the ingredients for the cake I promised Hannah I’d bring tonight and it’s almost noon already.  By the time you get back from PT the kids will be home and I’ve got to start dinner.”

She grabs her keys and purse from her desk in the kitchen, where she always keeps them and starts walking toward the garage door.

“I’m sorry I’m such a useless cripple,” I shout after her, my voice cracks at the end of the sentence. I feel a lump building in my throat and tears well in my eyes. Fuck. My. Life. Meg stops in her tracks and turns around so she’s facing me.

“Chris, you’re not a useless cripple. Don’t talk about yourself like that. I just wish you had put a little more thought into what you bought since you knew I needed the ingredients for the cake. It has nothing to do with your disability.”

“How can you say it has nothing to do with my disability? It has everything to do with my disability. If I wasn’t fucking paralyzed I could’ve used a normal shopping cart and I would’ve gotten everything on your list. We wouldn’t be having this argument if I hadn’t crashed my bike a couple of months ago.”

I rake a hand through my hair in frustration and lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees. I hang my head and try to pull myself together. Meg squats down in front of me and grabs my hands.

“I’m sorry I blew up on you. I know this isn’t easy for you. I just forget sometimes, because you seem to be dealing with it pretty well.”

“I thought I was. Then reality hit me hard today. It didn’t help that Lynnie got frustrated because it takes me a few minutes to assemble my chair and transfer to it and she said she wished my legs still worked because I was faster when they did.”

“Oh, Babe…” Meg squeezes my hands. “How did you respond to that?” she asks me gently.

“I just said I wish they work to, but they don’t and left it at that. She didn’t say anything else. It just felt like a punch in the gut and it’s the first time one of the kids have voiced a frustration over my disability.”

“Sounds like you got an overdose of reality checks this morning, Babe.”

“You can say that…” I say with a sigh. “And it wasn’t a pleasant reality. I know there will be good days and bad days. Today is definitely a bad one.”

“Well, it started out badly, but I think it can only get better from here.”

“I guess you have a point there,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of grocery shopping. At that point I was just so damn frustrated and wanted to get out of that store as soon as possible.”

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“I love you,” I say and pull Meg in for a kiss.

“I love you too. And for the record; I’m so happy to have you back home. Both the kids and I have missed having you around.”

“And I think it’s great to be home,” I assure her and pull Meg into my lap.

“Chris,” Meg says worriedly. “I’ll crush you! Or give you pressure sores.”

“No you won’t,” I assure her and hold her close. “According to Andrew it’s not a problem to have you in my lap for a few minutes from time to time.”

“That’s good to know, because I like this,” she says, and then she kisses me soundly. I like it too. A lot. I’m starting to think Meg is right; this day can only get better.

…

After my PT session with Andrew I head to Joel’s room. I haven’t seen him since we had lunch Monday and I want to see if he’s made any progress with his insurance company over the past few days.

When I arrive in his room I’m surprised to find him dozing in bed; he’s usually up in his chair most of the day these days. I knock on the doorframe as I wheel into the room. He opens his eyes and smiles weekly when he sees me.

“Hey Chris,” he greets me. He sounds tired.

“Hi. How are you? You don’t look or sound too good.”

“I’m fine. I finally got a suprapubic catheter this morning and the anesthesia kind of knocked me out. My doctor thinks I’ll be fine again tomorrow. Or I’ll at least feel better.”

“That’s good to hear,” I reply.

“How’s your first week at home going?”

“It’s had its ups and downs, but generally it’s good to be home with Meg and the kids again. Apart from getting the catheter this morning, how has your week been? Any progress with your insurance company?”

“It’s been a pretty good week. I’ve spoken to the social worker almost daily and she’s getting there with the insurance people. They promised they’d send over all the paperwork in the beginning of next week and if all goes to plan I’ll start looking for PCA’s in a week or so.”

“That’s great,” I say. “Um, do you have a key to your place? Time is flying and we’ve got to get started with the moving process at some point. And I want the decorator to go over there and learn about your style so the guesthouse feels like home to you when you move in.”

“Decorator? What are you up to?”

“As I told you it’s a bit dated and when Meg and I went over there and had a closer look the other day we realized it’s also in rough shape. Worse than we thought. I’m having some work done to it.”

“I really don’t care if the walls aren’t in great shape and in a color I don’t like as long as I’m not stuck in a hospital or nursing home. You really don’t have to spend a lot of money on fixing it up for me, Chris.”

“Joel, it’s going to be your home. We want it to be nice and comfortable like our home is. And feel like home to you. We’re not totally refurbishing it. We’re just giving the walls a coat of paint and we’ll probably replace the hardwood floors as well.”

Joel remains quiet for a few moments. I can see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows several times before he finally finds his voice again. “There should be a set of keys in the duffle bag on the bottom of the closet. In the outside pocket.”

I wheel over to the closet to check the bag. I find the keys where Joel thought I’d find them, grab them and place them in my lap before I put the bag back in the closet and close it again.

“The blue one is for the front door,” he says when I hold it up in front of him.  “And the other two are for the storage units in the basement and attic. And the fob there deactivates the alarm.”

“Got it. And you’re sure you don’t mind that we go there?”

“I don’t. I’m not sure how well you’ll be able to get around there though. It’s not the most accessible apartment. I know my bulky chair doesn’t stand a chance of getting through the doorways, but your chair is much smaller so it might be okay.”

“We’ll figure it out,” I assure him. Then I check the time and realize I have to leave. I’ve promised Meg to pick up Jayden on my way home and I don’t want to be late for that. “I’ve got to get going, I’m supposed to pick my son up from school in an hour and I can’t be late for that.”

“When will you be back?”

“I’ve got a doctor’s appointment and a session with Andrew on Tuesday. We can eat lunch together. Hopefully you’ve got some news from your insurance company and I’ll have some plans for the guesthouse to show you. The decorator is coming tomorrow and I’ll give her the keys and have her go look at your place tomorrow afternoon and hopefully she’ll have something ready on Monday that I can take here on Tuesday.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. I won’t see you over the weekend then?”

“No, we’re going to Santa Barbara to visit Meg’s parents and this time I can’t get out of it. We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon and get back Sunday early evening. On Monday I’ve got a meeting at the studio in the morning and then I’m meeting with the decorator in the afternoon. My schedule is pretty packed for the next four days.”

Joel nods dejectedly. I know he’s disappointed that I’m not able to visit for the next few days. He doesn’t like the weekends because he doesn’t have any therapy sessions that keep him busy and he rarely has visitors apart from my family. I check the time again and place my hands on the pushrims of my wheelchair. “I really have to get going. Have a good weekend and I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

“Say hi to Meg and the kids from me,” Joel says quietly. “Have a good weekend and I’ll see you on Tuesday for lunch.”

TBC…