A Daring Turn Of The Wheels

  On a rainy afternoon, I was waiting on my dad to pick me up from school. My friend waited with me and we sat under the breezeway. Soon the rain let up, but the walkway and carport were covered in about an inch of water. I entertained myself by driving my electric wheelchair back and forth across it and watching the water splash up from under my tires. An idea occurred to me.

"I bet I could peel out like those cars, turn sharp and splash water really high into the air!" I thrilled. 

"You should do it," my friend encouraged, grinning. 

  I went back about halfway down the walk. I wanted to be careful, because I wasn't sure what to expect, so I only turned up the speed to medium, and took off. Needless to say it wasn't the thrill I thought it would be. My wheels barely expelled any water and the turn was precise and unhindered. I did not slide or glide like I imagined would happen. 

"Maybe you should try further back," my friend suggested. 

"Yeah, and this time I'll put it on full speed."

"It goes faster?" she asked.

"Yeah," I smirked, "but I never drive it on full speed so I don't run the battery down."

"I can't wait to see how fast it goes," my friend said enthusiastically. 

  This was my chance to impress. With my power turned on high and a good distance to go, I shoved the control stick and flew forward. I could hear the water splash up beneath my tires. I did not look down, but stayed focused on the turn ahead. As soon as I came to it, I yanked the lever to the left. 

  Apparently, I misjudged how far into the turn I was and instead of a side-splashing display of awesome, I made a wide arc and flew off of the sidewalk, into the grass. My wheelchair shut off. My friend came running. 

"Oh my god, are you okay?" she asked. 

"Yeah," I said, shakily. "Thankfully, I didn't flip over or get thrown!" I exclaimed, realizing that I was still upright and in my wheelchair.

"No kidding," my friend agreed. "Can you get back on the sidewalk?" she asked.

  I flipped the switch; the wheelchair didn't turn on.

  Crap. 

"Oh man, my dad is going to kill me," I freaked.

"What do you think happened?" she asked. 

  I got out of my wheelchair and knelt in the mud to investigate. After a few moments of searching I discovered the battery was knocked loose. My friend helped me snap it back into place. I flipped the switch. The wheelchair came back on.

"It's alive!" I shouted, laughing. 

  I drove the wheelchair over to the sidewalk. Thankfully it was not a steep drop and my friend was able to help get it back onto the curb, just in time for my dad to arrive. As he was putting my wheelchair in the car, he noticed the mud on my tires. 

"You need to watch where you drive, you're getting mud in the car," he scolded. "Don't you see those mud holes?"

"Sorry Dad. I must have been going too fast."

"Well slow down," he said.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." I said, smiling to myself. 

Wheelchair Pajama Party

  When I was younger people who didn't know me often told me how lucky I was to be in a wheelchair, because no one would scold me or deny me anything out of fear of offending me. I wished. But one time I decided to test that theory.

"Why aren't you ready for school? Doesn't your bus get here in a few minutes?" my sister asked as we sat at the table eating breakfast.

"I'm going to school in my pajamas," I told her.

"Why?" she inquired.

"Why not? It's not like they're going to say anything -- I'm in a wheelchair."

  I was wearing my Winnie the Pooh T-shirt, green polkadot fleece pants and Pooh Bear slippers. I draped my fleece blanket around my shoulders. My short blonde hair was swiftly brushed, but I still looked like I'd just rolled out of bed.

"I thought you didn't like to play that card," my sister accused.

"Yeah, well today is finals and I want to be comfortable," I confessed.

  I've always had test anxiety and I am pretty sure it has to do with the exit test we had to take in public school. I decided this time I was going to feel as relaxed as possible and that meant wearing my fleece pants and Winnie the Pooh slippers.

"You're gonna get in trouble," my sister warned.

  Our parents weren't home to reprimand me, having left for work a half hour ago. I was about to mention this to my sister when the interrupting 'beep, beep' signaled my bus' arrival.

"We'll see," I said, as I headed out the door.

"You're looking comfy today," the bus driver noted as I drove up onto the wheelchair lift.

"Test day," I said.

"You must have been up late studying," she assumed.

"Didn't have time to get ready," I joked. "Actually, I just wanted to be comfortable. Test stress me out."

"You got this, girl, you're a smart lady," my bus driver assured me.

  I was glad I'd brought my fleece blanket with me. I wrapped it around me and bunched up the back of it under my head for a pillow. I managed to sleep through two pick ups and the five minute ride to school.

  When we arrived, I entered the school feeling a little timid about my bold decision. What if my sister was right and I did get in trouble. My parents would be furious if they had to leave work just because I blatantly broke the dress code and thus failed my classes. I made my way to the cafeteria to meet a couple of friends before our first class.

"Are you attending a slumber party?"

  It was the assistant principal! Well, I couldn't take my decision back now.

"Yep, after the test I'm going home and going to sleep!" I said cheerfully.

  Surprisingly, she just laughed. "I wish I had my PJ's on!" she sighed. "I need some sleep. Good luck on your test." The assistant principal left the cafeteria with her coffee.

  It worked! I found my friends sitting at our usual spot by the large windows.

"You guys are not gonna believe this..." I proceeded to tell them about my idea to wear pajamas and my encounter with the assistant principal.

"She didn't get mad or send me to the office for violating dress code. Maybe using wheelchair perks every now and then wouldn't be so bad..." It was then I noticed my friends were on the verge of laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked confused.

"Of course you didn't get in trouble, don't you remember what the principal said over the announcements yesterday?"

"I was out yesterday because of a doctor appointment," I said.

"Oh," my friend said, "well today is pajama day for finals."

  It was then I finally noticed all of my friends were in Pajama pants and T-shirts. One had brought a teddy bear while another, like me, had a fleece blanket in her lap.

"So much for wheelchair perks," I sighed.

"Not true. Today we all get wheelchair perks!" my friends cheered.

Rock 'N' Roll Wheelchair

  My first rock 'n' roll show was the coolest ever, because of my wheelchair.

  When I was a teenager, I didn't go to parties or concerts a lot like most of my friends. I liked being a homebody for the most part, but one night I was really bored so I started calling around and seeing what my friends were doing. Most of them were already busy, but one of them called me back,

"Hey, I was thinking about seeing The Buzzcocks play tonight, downtown. Do you want to go?" he asked.

"Sure," I agreed. I'd heard a few of their songs and thought they were pretty good.

  Later, my friend picked me up and he and I went to the local warehouse. We'd arrived early to get a good spot, but when we went inside, the room was hardly crowded.

"I'm surprised the turn out was so weak," I said to my friend, "I thought this band was really popular."

"Oh, it's still early," he assured me. "Places like this can fill up fast."

  We watched the opening band play. One of the members brought out a guitar that was so small, I could have held it. I was mesmerized watching him play, until he smashed the instrument in front of me. I could hardly believe it. I was so angry, I thought I might explode - I wished he'd given me the guitar if he really didn't want it.

"Are you okay?" My friend asked, seeing my expression.

"That was a punk ass thing to do," I said motioning to the splintered wood and strings littered across the stage.

"Yeah it was," he agreed, understanding my anger.

"I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be back," I said.

"Okay, I'm gonna get a beer," my friend gestured toward the bar at the back.

  I went to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face to calm down. I wished I were old enough for a beer. I wasn't about to ask my friend to buy me one, though I doubt he would have - my dad wouldn't have let me hang out with him alone if he thought he would, and I didn't want to break my dad's trust.

  I wheeled back out and was shocked to see the venue was suddenly packed. Eventually, I found my friend at the back, by the bar.

"I told you this place could fill up," he said, sipping his beer. "I'm sorry, I should have gone back to the front and reserved our place."

"It's okay, maybe we can push our way back up," I suggested. But it was no use.

"When the show starts, I will let you sit on my shoulders," my friend offered.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Come on," he said and bent down so I could climb on.

  My brother let me sit on his shoulders numerous times, but I'd never trusted anyone else not to drop me. Still, I did want to see the band play - plus it didn't smell very pleasant the more crowded the room got. I stood up on my wheelchair and started to climb, when suddenly we were approached by the bouncer.

"You don't need to do that," he said to me. "Come on, we'll find you a place where you can see the band play."

  A place where we could see the band play. I imagined we were about to be escorted back to our earlier places in the front. Instead, the bouncer led us out of the side door, around to a ramp in the back, through a room behind the stage, up another ramp and then right up on stage!

"How is this for a view?" The bouncer grinned at me. We were positioned behind the left speaker, just in the shadows. Still, we could see the whole band.

  The Buzzcocks began to play and my friend and I were on cloud nine. It was so loud, I was sure I would be deaf, but I didn't care! I was amazed at their performance. Pete Shelley - the lead singer, who at the time was in his fifties - seemed to have the crazy energy of someone in his thirties. Every once in a while one of the members would look at us; smile, nod, wink or acknowledge our presence with some small gesture. After the show my friend and I got to meet the band who, despite their wild stage presence, were kindly spoken gentlemen.

"It was so wonderful to meet you my dear," Pete said, taking my hand with both of his as we said goodbye.

  His british accent made me feel as though I were being bid farewell by an elder knight.

  As my friend and I left in a daze my friend finally broke,

"Wow, that was so amazing!" he said.

"Yeah it was, thanks for bringing me!" I beamed.

"Thank you," he said. "It's because of you that we got to sit on stage. Do you always get to do stuff like that?"

"Not always," I answered.

"You should," he said.

"I'd feel guilty. I always say I want to be treated normal, but if I got special treatment all the time just because of my wheelchair, it would be kind of hypocritical," I reasoned.

"But you're short. Even if you weren't in a wheelchair, you would have had to move where you could see - that's normal," he countered.

"True," I agreed. "But wow, I wasn't expecting them to let us sit on stage!"

"I know, that was awesome!" My friend and I continued geeking out over our amazing night.

 ~*~

  Being in a wheelchair has taught me many things, but most importantly it has given me a deep appreciation for the kindness of people. I am grateful for every chance I am given to sit where I can enjoy a movie, concert or show; for every person who offers to hold a door or let me cut in line; for anyone who helps me reach things up high. If you're one of these people - from my heart, Thank You.

Wheelchair Roulette

  When I was ten, I lost my marbles - and my wheelchair. I came home one evening after playing with my friends. I hoped my mom wouldn't remember that I'd taken my wheelchair out, as I often did when the walk was far, but it had been an unlucky day for me.

"Where is your wheelchair?" she asked.

"I lost it in a bet," I said, trying not to sound as scared as I felt.

"Excuse me?" my mom said.

"I was playing marbles," I lowered my gaze.

  Recently, the kids in my area had become addicted to playing marbles. My brother taught me how to play, but I had a hard time beating him.

"Don't get frustrated," he told me after I'd lost some of my allowance to him. "I'm just a pro. You need to find people less experienced, that you can beat."

  So I began playing my friends, even teaching some, and soon I had a beautiful collection of marbles I'd won in games.

  As kids, we were taught that gambling was a sin. That included making bets.

"Betting is a pathway to gambling, and gambling is a sin," my mother chanted. "You start gambling with the small things and soon you lose everything God gave you."

  I should have headed those words, but I had a weakness for the colorful, little glass orbs that rolled smoothly across a hardwood floor. The satisfaction of aiming one swift pawn marble at my target acquisition and hearing the little click that knocked it from the protective circle and into my silk pouch, where I kept at least a hundred other marbles, made me giddy with anticipation.

  Tonight, I lost almost all of my favorites. I didn't want to bet anymore of them out of fear that I'd have nothing left. In a desperate attempt to get at least one or two back I pleaded with my friend,

"Can't we bet something other than my last marbles?"

"Okay," she said, "We can bet your wheelchair."

  I thought about it. I knew my parents would be livid if I lost, but I really wanted my prized collection back.

"Fine," I sighed, "but you can't keep it. My mom won't let you. You can borrow it for a week."

"Deal," my friend agreed.

  The game was short and when it was over I went home without my marbles or my wheels.

"Whose house did you leave it at?" My mom asked and I told her.

"You stay put. I'm gonna go get your wheelchair," Mom said and left.

  It was sometime before my mom returned and when she wheeled my wheelchair into the bedroom she asked me for the silk pouch where I kept my remaining marbles.

"You're done playing with these for awhile," she said. "Do you want to know where I found your wheelchair?"

"Where?" I asked, confused.

"Apparently, your friend decided to bet your wheelchair in one of her games. I had to go two blocks away and the boys who had it, left it outside. You can consider yourself grounded for the next two weeks and if you do any betting again, I'll help you out and give away all of your toys." She stormed out of the room.

  A little while later my brother came in my room.

"Wow, I heard what happened. Do you want me to give you some of my marbles?" he offered.

"No, mom said she'd give away all of my stuff if she caught me betting again. You should probably stop too. I know she only said that to me, but I'm pretty sure she means you also, and she will catch you," I warned. My brother grinned.

"Wanna bet?"

The Perks Of Having A Wheelchair

  When I was younger, my manual wheelchair was a multi-purpose object. I used it for a step stool, a way to carry laundry to and from my room and sometimes I toted toys in and out of the house whenever I wanted to play outside.

  One day my siblings and I decided to go around the block to a friend's house. As always, I pushed the supplies (a box full of video games, barbie dolls and snacks) in my wheelchair, while my brother and sister walked behind and beside me.

"Guys, I need to sit down," I said to my siblings.

  The walks around the neighborhood often wore me out, so we parked my wheelchair on the curb and dug into the box to retrieve our sodas and cookies. After we finished them,

"Uh-oh," I said, "I have to use the bathroom."

"Do you think you can make it to our friend's house?" my brother asked.

"I don't know," I said, standing up. I could feel the pressure on my bladder and I knew that I'd have to go soon.

"Maybe you can knock on the neighbor's door," my sister pointed at the house in front of us.

  I wasn't too keen on the idea, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I ran ahead of my siblings to the front door and knocked. My tiny hands were never good at making noise and I was too short to reach the doorbell. Luckily, my brother ran up behind me, leaving our sister in the driveway with my wheelchair. He rang the doorbell. Still, no answer.

"Let's try another house," my brother suggested.

  We ran next door, our sister pushing the wheelchair behind us. Again we rang and knocked, but there was still no response.

"I don't think anyone is home anywhere," I said, noting the next three empty drive-ways. I felt a little ridiculous knocking on so many doors.

"Get in your wheelchair and I'll push you," my brother said.

"What about our stuff?" I asked.

"Can you carry it?" he asked our sister.

"No," she said.

"Wait here with it then," he told her.

"Don't leave me here!" my sister insisted.

"We can't leave her by herself," I told my brother. I thought for a moment. "Let's hide the box in the neighbor's bush then come back and get it."

  Our friend lived just one street over from where we were. My brother took the box and hid it in the bushes in front of the neighbor's window. I got in my wheelchair and he pushed me as swiftly as he could, with our sister running behind us. We made it to our friend's house just in time.

"Where is your stuff?" our friend asked.

"We had to hide it so it wouldn't get stolen," my brother said. "You girls stay and we'll go get it. Can I borrow your wheelchair, sis?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.

  It took awhile, but when they returned, my brother and our friend were laughing hysterically.

"What happened?" I asked them eagerly.

"When we went to get the stuff, there was a car in the driveway," my brother said. "I thought we'd get in trouble sneaking up to their window."

"So I got in your wheelchair and your brother pushed me up to the front door," our friend said. "He rang the bell and told the lady who answered that someone took my toys and we thought they hid them in her yard. She obviously felt sorry for me, because of the wheelchair, so she let us 'look' and we 'found' them!"

  The both started laughing again. My sister and I joined in.

"You're lucky," our friend said to me, when we'd calm down. "If I were in a wheelchair, I'd never get in trouble."

  My siblings and I looked at each other, and started laughing even harder.

Wheelchair Wars

  Late one night my fiancé, a couple of our friends and I were hanging out. It was getting late. We ate dinner, but we weren't ready to call it a night.

"What do you guys wanna do?" My fiancé asked us. 

  We were in the Walmart parking lot and I was wheeling myself around out of hyper energy.

"I read this funny article online the other day about pranks to get yourself kicked out of Walmart," I said. 

"Oh come on, I spend enough time there during work," one of our friends moaned. 

"Not much else is open besides bars and clubs and I really don't feel like going there," I said. 

"Alright," they acquiesced, and we walked across the parking lot into the store. 

  Walmart is almost always full of shoppers. You can find a diverse group of people - once I met a group of monks. There is a man that works at one location whom I call Hagrid, because he resembles the great grounds keeper from the 'Harry Potter' books. 

  The store was not so crowded. I led my friends to the toy isle. 

"What are we doing here?" my friend asked.

"We are having an epic battle," I said pulling out a red light saber. "But not just any battle, a hide and seek one! Everyone chose your sabers!"

  My fiancé and friends selected their colors: Blue, green and red. I had my own red one.

"Now, the rules are: We split up and hide in different parts of the store. Give it two minutes and then start searching. When you run into someone, engage them in battle. Heart strikes and neck strikes are death marks. When you die, you must return to this area and put up your sword. Last person seeking is the winner."

  We split up. I wheeled away to the towel section and hid behind some laundry baskets. I waited ten minutes, counting the seconds silently in my head. I was barely through, when I saw one of my friends coming around the corner. Immediately, I moved behind some rugs and sped off down the isle, my saber at my back.

  Not too far away, I could hear the sound of sabers engage as two of my friends had found each other and were dueling to the death. It seemed the fight didn't last long,

"Oh man, no! I died" my friend shouted.

"To the post with you." the other said.

  I tried to avoid being seen and somehow managed to slip behind them and down another isle. I wheeled as fast as I could. My fiancé was chasing one friend down the shoe isle. Another friend appeared, following their sounds. He would sneak up on the two of them and engage whoever won. I headed toward the clothes. I knew I could hide easily amongst the racks of shirts.

  Suddenly, I heard my fiancé's shout of defeat and laughter as our friend won their battle. Now it was just me and my friend. He would be searching for me so I decided to avoid hiding and just seek him out. I left the clothes and headed to where I heard my fiancé had been. Just as I was slipping around the corner of the kitchen wares isle, I noticed my friend at the other end, so I turned thinking that he was coming down the next isle and I would sneak up on him. I wheeled slowly, to avoid any metal from clinking on my wheelchair.

  Just as I reached the end of the isle, my friend came around the corner next to me and we were suddenly face to face in combat mode. The battle began. It was short but epic. We pitched our plastic sabers against each other as hard as we could and I was so into it that I shouted my defiance.

"Die, sith scum!"

"You're the one with the red saber," my friend shot back at me.

"Your friend stole mine so I had to take this off the body of a dead Sith," I improvised.

"Admit it, you've embraced the dark side," my friend said.

"Never!" I shouted.

  It was hard to maneuver my wheelchair while I fought, but fortunately I was able to use the tires to buffer a few of my friend's blows. Just as I thought I might win, my friend and I made the same motion and our light sabers struck each other in the neck at the same time!

"Wow, I can't believe we both did that." I laughed.

"So what, it's a tie?" my friend asked.

"I guess so," I smiled.

  We went back to where our other friends and my fiancé waited.

"Looks like a draw," I said. "We killed one another at the same time, by striking each other in the neck," we all laughed.

"Well that was fun," I said, "but we didn't get kicked out."

"I don't think anyone really cared." my fiancé said looking around.

"No, I guess not," I said. "But it was a lot of fun and will make for a great story."
  

Wheelchair Water World

  When I was fourteen, my choir class took a trip to San Antonio for our spring concert. I had to take my manual wheelchair, because the electric one was too heavy for my teacher to handle and we couldn't get a handicapped bus in time. After the concert our teacher took us to an amusement park which was next to a water park. My friends and I roamed the park and I watched as they rode the rides. I was too short to ride anything, so I shopped for souviners instead.

"Okay girls, we have been given free passes to water world," my teacher announced, while we were eating lunch.

  Everyone cheered, except me. I was tired from pushing myself around the amusement park and just about ready to call it a day. However, I didn't say anything, but I was fortunate enough to have a very thoughtful teacher.

"I know you've got to be tired," my teacher said to me as we finished up our lunch.

"It's okay," I said. "I may just find a wade pool and stay there."

  I wanted to go on the water slides, but I didn't feel like pushing myself much further around the park. My teacher got up and went to the ticket booths. A few minutes later she called to me and three of my friends who had taken turns pushing me when I got tired.

"Girls, the director is sending over a couple of life guards to give you a ride around the park, that way you don't have to keep pushing your wheelchair all day," the teacher said to us.

"Awesome!" we cheered.

  A few moments later, a trolly arrived and I could hear my friends take a collective gasp as two really gorgeous guys stepped down and stood in front of us.

"Hello ladies," The one with red shorts and shoulder length brown hair said.

"Looks like you get the royal treatment, hot escorts and all," one of my classmates said loud enough for the guys to hear. I pretended like I didn't.

"Let's get you girls loaded up, so you can all get wet," the other, a blonde with sun glasses that never came off, said with a smirk.

  The guys were cute, but there was something about them that felt off to me. Politely, though, I accepted their assistance and they loaded my wheelchair onto the trolly. They drove us to two parts of the park. I rode on three water slides, one was the second largest in the park. As we rode with our guides to the other side of the park, I sat on the trolly seat so as not to get my wheelchair wet. My friends were shamelessly flirting with the guys, and even though they were obviously way too old for us, they flirted back.

"Wanna sit in my lap?" The blonde asked me. "I promise I won't let you fall off."

"Um, no, I don't - thanks," I said, trying not to sound rude, but feeling really uncomfortable.

  My friends however, seemed totally at ease. I tried not to listen to their coy chatter, but then...

"We go on break in ten minutes if you girls just want to come hang out with us. There is a mexican joint at the end of the park that doesn't card -- not that you look young," the blonde guy grinned at me, "We could drink some margaritas -- we'll have you back in half an hour."

"NO," I shrieked at them, and everyone jumped in surprise.

"Oh, come on," one of my friends pleaded, "Let's have some fun."

  I think that being in a wheelchair and not having control over a lot of aspects in my life has pushed me to be as stubborn and steadfast over the decisions I do get to make. Therefore peer pressure was never a big issue for me.

"We don't know these guys and haven't you watched enough Lifetime television to know how something like this plays out?" I scolded my friends, not caring if the guys heard me.

"But this isn't TV babe, and we work here. Come on, I promise we're not bad guys," blonde guy tried to make his tone sincere, but he was almost laughing. I glared at him and his friend grinned.

"I think that's a, 'no' dude," he chuckled.

"You don't have to come. We can let you stay and..." one of my friends started, but I cut her off.

"NONE of us are going with them and if any of you try to sneak off, I am telling," I shouted at my friends, then rounding on the two guys, "And I swear to God I'll fight you if you try to abduct us. In fact, we are getting off NOW." I insisted. I started to go into panic mode.

"Uh, we don't know how to get out of the park and it's gonna be a long walk," my friend whispered to me.

"Well I don't trust these guys to take us back, and I plan on reporting them when we return," I fumed.

"Look, we're sorry. We really were just trying to be friendly. It was inappropriate," blonde guy finally seemed to realize that I wasn't joking around, and both of them got serious. "We'll give you girls a ride back," they said.

  I felt a sudden guilt about the situation. Had I misunderstood? I wasn't used to being flirted with, but I always trust my instincts, because so far they hadn't let me down. I accepted their offer for a ride back. When we got to the front, the guys let us off and helped me back into my chair.

"I really am sorry," the blonde guy said. "I didn't mean to scare you," he turned to my friends. "You've got a really good friend here. Listen to her," he said.

"Thanks for bringing us back," I said to him.

"Anytime, your highness," He reached his hand out and I shook it.

Wheel-Chairiot Racing

  Every summer of my childhood, from the time I was four until the age of eleven, almost like clockwork, I broke my leg/legs and spent a good part of summer vacation in the hospital. When I was seven my doctor spoke with my parents about a new rodding procedure that would prevent frequent broken bones. They decided to allow the doctor to place a rod in my left femur, because it was the one I broke most often.

  The surgery was preformed while I was still in school and I spent a month in the hospital. During that time my leg was kept in traction, but toward the end of the month the bandages were removed and I spent the last week undergoing physical therapy.

"As part of your therapy you need to get out of bed and spend some time in your wheelchair. There is a common room on the third floor and a park outside. Why don't you visit them for a while," the doctor recommended.

  Every morning after breakfast and vitals, I was placed in my wheelchair and escorted to the common room. There I met a girl a couple of years older who was also in a wheelchair. Rather than stick to the designated areas, we often got into trouble for going where we were not supposed to.

"Wanna have a race?" she asked.

"I want a head-start," I insisted. "You're bigger."

"Fine," she conceded.

  I pushed myself as hard as I could, but soon she was beside me.

"Hey, follow me," she said and pushed on ahead through two open doors that read, 'emergency staff only.'

"Wait," I called, "we're gonna get in trouble, only doctors can come here!"

  She pulled to a stop and I almost crashed into her. She turned to face me.

"See that sign?" she pointed to a large white plaque with red letters.

"What's, 'ICU'?" I asked.

"It's a place filled with people who are about to die," she said somberly.

"Nuh-uh, how do you know?" I said in disbelief. I didn't know much about death at the age of seven, but I understood that people who died went to sleep and didn't wake up.

"My grandma is in there," her voice was sad.

"Are you here to visit her?" I asked.

"I want to, but I am scared," she said, and tears welled up in her eyes.

  We sat in silence for a moment. I was in shock. I couldn't imagine either of my grandmothers in a place like this and I didn't want to. Still, I would want the chance to see my grandma or my grangran, no matter where they were.

"Don't be scared," I told her, "She is just sleeping. Maybe she can hear you. She'd like it if you said hi."

"Will you go with me?" she asked. "Maybe she'll wake up and you can meet her."

"Okay," I said, though in reality I was a bit scared myself.

  She knocked on the door. A moment later a nurse answered.

"What are you girls doing here?" the nurse asked, in a tone of rebuke.

"My grandma is here and we wanted to visit." The girl said.

"I'm afraid your parents have restricted visitation to family only," The nurse said after checking her chart. "You may come in for a while, but your friend is not allowed." Then to me, "I'll have an orderly escort you back to your room."

  The girl hesitated, but I urged her to stay and she allowed the nurse to show her to a row of beds where an elderly woman lay connected to a bunch of tubes. I felt tears well up at the sight and wished I hadn't come with her. Soon an orderly came and pushed me back to my room.

  A few days later I was in the common room and she came wheeling up to me.

"My grandma died yesterday and I got permission to go to her funeral," she said.

"I'm sorry." I said.

"Thanks for going with me the other day," she said.

"You're welcome. Do you want to go to the park?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.

"No, I just came to say, 'bye'" she said.

"Oh. good-bye," I told her.

  We maneuvered our wheelchairs side by side to hug each other. Being short and trying to hug someone else in a wheelchair has always been a challenge.

"Wanna race me back to my room?" She offered.

"Okay," I said.

  She gave me a ten second head-start, but as soon as she caught up with me we slowed down and the rest of the way, rolled side by side.