A Tale Of Two Wheelchairs

  When she was 13, my little sister wanted to know what it was like to be me so I challenged her to spend an entire Saturday in my manual wheelchair.

"You have to stay in the wheelchair from the time you wake up, until bed time," I told her. "The only exception is if our parents tell you to do something you have to do without the chair."

"I think I should walk on my knees if I have to get up," my sister offered.

"If you want to, but it might be hard," I warned.

"That's okay. We'll be like twins!"

  The next morning I got into my power wheelchair and my sister sat in the manual since it was easier for her to maneuver on carpet. We wheeled into the kitchen to eat breakfast.

"I'll get us bowls since you can't reach them," I offered, but she brushed me aside.

"I wanted to do what you do, so I'll climb on the counter and get it."

"I don't want you to get hurt," I said.

"Don't worry, I got this."

  My sister wheeled up to the cabinet and set the brakes securely. Using her arms, she hoisted herself up on to the counter, on her knees. I was impressed at her clever tactic. She retrieved two bowls and slid off the counter, into the wheelchair.

"Well done," I said and my sister smiled. I got the rest of the essentials to make cereal and we parked ourselves at the kitchen table to eat.

  After breakfast we went into the living room to watch TV. Our living room was small and didn't accommodate two wheelchairs easily, so my sister got out and walked on her knees to the couch. Again, she hoisted herself up, using only her arms. As we watched the saturday morning cartoon line up I thought about my sister's effort to understand me.

"This is fun," she said, as if reading my thoughts.

"Yea," I replied. "Too bad I can't know what it's like to be you."

"Too bad you couldn't walk on stilts," my sister said, bringing back a brief memory of a time I nearly broke both my legs trying to walk with two tall cans tied to my feet.

"I could always sit on someone's shoulders for an entire day," I suggested, we both laughed.

"Why do you want to know what it's like to be me?" I asked her.

"I dunno. Sometimes it looks easy, like people always want to help you. But sometimes it seems like it sucks. Does it suck?"

"Not more than anything else I suppose," I said, "It sucks that I can't do a lot of things I used to do - like walking. It seems like that got hard after my spine started curving. But as far as being me, I don't think it sucks more than being anybody else. Everyone has problems."

"I guess I never thought about it being normal to you," she replied.

  My sister and I spent the better half of the day entertaining ourselves with wheelchair antics. I took her outside and let her grasp onto the back of my power chair while I dragged her up and down the street. We rolled to the convenient store -- I had to allow her to get out and push the manual chair when she ran it into two mud holes. By mid afternoon however, my sister was itching to get up and stretch her legs, so I told her she was free of her challenge. Still, she used the wheelchair for sitting the rest of the day, even parking it at the table to eat dinner.

  When bedtime came, we went to our shared bedroom. My sister parked my manual wheelchair in the large walk-in closet. She got on her knees and gave me a hug.

"It was fun being your twin today. Sorry I couldn't go all day in the wheelchair," she said.

"Thanks for trying. That was fun," I replied.

  Siblings can surprise you and I was blessed with two who made being in a wheelchair 'not suck.'