Wednesday, February 10, 2010


As can be readily imagined, a quadriplegic tipping over, wheelchair and all is always a dreadful proposition. Admittedly, the 'Predicament' case was unusually dramatic and frightening. The negative possibilities were serious. Most tip overs are more mundane. When this does occur, whether dramatic or not, I am a turtle on my back (or side) with essentially four options: (1) flail about like that poor turtle, or (2) call out like a wounded buffalo or (3) gesticulate doggedly and , in most cases, hopelessly, or (4) stubbornly wait out the human family for help. During (1) through (4) I invariably feel utterly ridiculous, as if irrevocably caught in yet another of life's humiliating, undignified exercises. Most times, I'd rather be caught sleep walking naked near a convent. I have tipped over numerous times, in addition to 'Predicament', five follow.

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