Embarrassing Wheelchair Tales: Part 2

  The kind of humiliation I felt from being in a wheelchair was not through taunts or stares. If anyone gave me issue I'd run over their toes and that would be the end of it. Often the humiliation was my fault, because I wasn't paying attention to things that got tangled up in the tires. Once I had a trail of coat hangers dragging behind me, before someone pulled me over and alerted me to the situation. You'd think that I'd take more notice of what I ran over, but it was the lack of attention that led to my most embarrassing moment in a wheelchair.

  I was getting ready for school one morning and went to my mom's room, where our computer was, to print out my homework. My cat Mistika was laying on a pile of my mom's clothes; she'd pulled them out of the laundry basket and the ones that weren't under her were strewn across the floor. 

"Mom is going to kill you cat," I warned. I didn't feel like picking up the clothes, so I rolled over them. 

  At school, the teacher paired us up to work on an assignment. I don't recall the assignment, only that I was paired with my crush from the class. He and I were buddies and I had never felt shy around him. I was really excited that we were working together.

"Do you want me to get your book out of your bag?" He offered.

"Yea, thanks," I said, copying the instructions from the white board in my notebook. 

"Hey, you have something tangled in your back tire."

  I looked down. Dang it.

"I ran over some clothes, something probably got caught," I said. 

"I'll help you get it out," he offered. He went to the teacher's desk and borrowed some scissors. 

  The article of clothing had wound itself pretty good around the tire. It took him a few moments to get it untangled. When he pulled it lose, the item turned out to be a large pair of silky women's panties. 

"I take it take it these are probably not yours," he grinned and tossed them to me. 

"Obviously. They're my mom's," I said, mortified and stuffed the cut cloth into my backpack with the intention of burning my humiliation at home. 

  Suffice it to say I have not learned my lesson. I usually hang my clothing on my wheelchair when I shower, with the intention of putting them in the laundry. Every now and then a bra, a shirt or a pair of panties will find themselves on the floor, outside and sometimes in the car. I've learned to just shrug my shoulders and accept my wheelchair's embarrassing reminders.