Post by sungod on Apr 18, 2023 11:30:26 GMT -5
Encouraged by mellowcanuck's post, I wanted to share some bits of my story that could be an entertaining read for some.
From Chapter 2: Back To School
I felt fortunate to return to college. A common result of sustaining a spinal cord injury is overwhelming feelings of depression, worthlessness, no sense of direction. As a quadriplegic, I lost the ability to walk, drive, get food, take care of myself, and practically every daily physical activity. Feeling aimless is understandable if your career or life plans were anything physical that required these skills. On top of potentially shattered career plans, many people with spinal cord in return to live with their parents. It may start as a temporary solution to help with finances or ADL assistance, but it can turn into a permanent solution when the hurdle to move out feels insurmountable.
Living at home with your parents after previously learning all about adulthood and independence is stifling. My parents and other family are amazingly supportive and generous, but exactly zero of my life dreams included living in their home and being able to recognize when an episode of The Price Is Right is a rerun. Thankfully, I could easily lay to rest any dreams of being in the NFL. It’s unfortunate that I couldn’t consider any aspirations of being an astronaut, but I eventually got over that too. My previous chemical engineering aspirations still had a strong potential to be accommodating to the needs of my disability.
----
The Disability Office generously put me in touch with the Dean of Housing to find the best housing solution. The housing dean amazingly offered that I could have a Resident Assistant (RA) room in the newest dorm on campus because it was ground-level, included wide doors and hallways, and had an attached bathroom. Though I was perfectly fine with the communal bathrooms pre-injury, being wheeled down the hall in a shower wheelchair wasn’t appealing. Moreover, the toilet and shower stalls weren’t accessible or large enough for both me and a caregiver. The RA room was perfect! They even installed a door motor with a remote button for me to be able to access the room freely. On top of the great room, the dean also offered that I could have two of the neighboring double rooms reserved for close friends that would be willing to help me in case of emergency. As a high-level quad, having people willing to help in emergencies is crucial. Four of my friends were awesome to stay next door and alternate possession of “the speaker”, an always-on intercom that I could use to call for help if my legs spasmed into an unsafe position. My quality home base was complete.
Navigating the intricate web of “walking” paths, getting in/out of buildings was important to figure out immediately because wheelchair accessibility around campus was hit and miss. New buildings like my dorm hall were perfectly accessible, including handicap buttons for automated doors, thanks to ADA standards in the USA. However, many older buildings on campus had limited wheelchair accessibility. The engineering building needed updating to be wheelchair friendly; there were around 10 steps into the front entrance. Even if my 350 pound wheelchair could climb steps, there was not a button to get through the door. The workaround was a new ramp down a couple of steps into the basement entrance, two handicap buttons, and then taking the elevator to the appropriate floor. It was a tedious entrance compared to going in the front, but ADA regulations would have mandated some 70+ feet of ramp to reach the door with an acceptably shallow ramp incline.
Using a wheelchair on campus was still challenging at times. The University could do everything in their power to try to give me 100% access to the relevant facilities, but unexpected situations still arose. After all, with no substantial experience with wheelchairs on campus, especially power wheelchairs, the administration had no previous lessons to draw from. With transparent conversations upfront, we did early troubleshooting to ensure that my classes would not be in inaccessible buildings. We also discussed other potentially pesky situations, like snowy paths.
Close your eyes. Imagine yourself in the driver seat of your stationary car/truck/SUV/golf cart. With your hands on the wheel at 10 and 2, lift your foot from the brake and lightly press the accelerator pedal. Feel your body press into the seat as the vehicle starts to move forward (depending on whether you have turbo/supercharger, you may also holler in excitement). Now imagine that your vehicle is in Canada (if not already). In the winter. With worn tires that you’ve been meaning to replace. From a stop, now put your foot on the accelerator. What happens? The layers of freshly fallen snow, packed snow, and ice render your engine useless as its herds of horses because the tires spin. The heat from friction digs quickly, and your wheels settle into deep grooves. Unless you can find a herd of actual horses to pull you out, you’re stuck.
Open your eyes. Winter in northern states presents this identical challenge for my wheelchair. No matter whether a power chair is rear-, mid-, or front-wheel drive, general-use power chairs are almost always two-wheel drive. The drive wheels are moderate size with some tread depth, but like your car, I don’t get them replaced often enough. When I was younger, I was always drawn to rally car racing video games at the arcade, which I swear was the best preparation for unexpected vehicular drifting in winter snow. Not surprisingly, I always want to practice wheelchair drifting when the sidewalks get slick.
Drifting is fun when you have nowhere to go, but it’s less than ideal when you’re on a tight schedule. At the end of my first semester back to school after the injury, I was heading to an 8 AM final exam one morning. I knew that it was supposed to snow the night before, but I had no idea that it was going to DUMP a mini blizzard. We had between 6-12 inches of snow, which the snowplows had been working to clear all morning. Jessica bundled me in my winter clothes, fleece jacket, beanie hat, and heavy poncho to brave the conditions.
I left the dorm to navigate to the quickly approaching exam, but there was more snow on the ground than I expected. The groundskeepers in charge of snowplowing typically knew my schedule so that they could try to have my route cleared. However, finals always have an odd schedule, and the plows were catching up from the heavy night of snowing. I didn’t even make it around the corner of the dorm before my wheels worked their way into deep snow groove and spun futilely. Jessica got behind the chair and started to push, though my progress was similar to a drunken college student walking up an icy hill… Slow, staggered, and occasionally backward. Then, like I had inadvertently shined a bat signal in the sky, one of the snowplows working on clearing the paths appeared.
“Hey buddy! Where are you going?” He asked.
“I have class up in Engineering.”
“Okay, follow me!” He plowed my entire route to class like a police escort. I enjoyed a cushy asphalt carpet all the way across campus, often uphill. During winter, I already felt fortunate that the facilities staff was considerate enough to have their first priority as clearing my path to classes, but this made me feel like royalty! Of course, I thanked him profusely when we got to the engineering building before I rushed to class. I didn’t see these employees very often, but I hoped that moments like this gave him the feedback to feel the impact of his efforts. Although it wasn’t out of his way, I likely wouldn’t have made it to class if he had been focusing on some of the other parts of campus that are more heavily trafficked.
From Chapter 2: Back To School
I felt fortunate to return to college. A common result of sustaining a spinal cord injury is overwhelming feelings of depression, worthlessness, no sense of direction. As a quadriplegic, I lost the ability to walk, drive, get food, take care of myself, and practically every daily physical activity. Feeling aimless is understandable if your career or life plans were anything physical that required these skills. On top of potentially shattered career plans, many people with spinal cord in return to live with their parents. It may start as a temporary solution to help with finances or ADL assistance, but it can turn into a permanent solution when the hurdle to move out feels insurmountable.
Living at home with your parents after previously learning all about adulthood and independence is stifling. My parents and other family are amazingly supportive and generous, but exactly zero of my life dreams included living in their home and being able to recognize when an episode of The Price Is Right is a rerun. Thankfully, I could easily lay to rest any dreams of being in the NFL. It’s unfortunate that I couldn’t consider any aspirations of being an astronaut, but I eventually got over that too. My previous chemical engineering aspirations still had a strong potential to be accommodating to the needs of my disability.
----
The Disability Office generously put me in touch with the Dean of Housing to find the best housing solution. The housing dean amazingly offered that I could have a Resident Assistant (RA) room in the newest dorm on campus because it was ground-level, included wide doors and hallways, and had an attached bathroom. Though I was perfectly fine with the communal bathrooms pre-injury, being wheeled down the hall in a shower wheelchair wasn’t appealing. Moreover, the toilet and shower stalls weren’t accessible or large enough for both me and a caregiver. The RA room was perfect! They even installed a door motor with a remote button for me to be able to access the room freely. On top of the great room, the dean also offered that I could have two of the neighboring double rooms reserved for close friends that would be willing to help me in case of emergency. As a high-level quad, having people willing to help in emergencies is crucial. Four of my friends were awesome to stay next door and alternate possession of “the speaker”, an always-on intercom that I could use to call for help if my legs spasmed into an unsafe position. My quality home base was complete.
Navigating the intricate web of “walking” paths, getting in/out of buildings was important to figure out immediately because wheelchair accessibility around campus was hit and miss. New buildings like my dorm hall were perfectly accessible, including handicap buttons for automated doors, thanks to ADA standards in the USA. However, many older buildings on campus had limited wheelchair accessibility. The engineering building needed updating to be wheelchair friendly; there were around 10 steps into the front entrance. Even if my 350 pound wheelchair could climb steps, there was not a button to get through the door. The workaround was a new ramp down a couple of steps into the basement entrance, two handicap buttons, and then taking the elevator to the appropriate floor. It was a tedious entrance compared to going in the front, but ADA regulations would have mandated some 70+ feet of ramp to reach the door with an acceptably shallow ramp incline.
Using a wheelchair on campus was still challenging at times. The University could do everything in their power to try to give me 100% access to the relevant facilities, but unexpected situations still arose. After all, with no substantial experience with wheelchairs on campus, especially power wheelchairs, the administration had no previous lessons to draw from. With transparent conversations upfront, we did early troubleshooting to ensure that my classes would not be in inaccessible buildings. We also discussed other potentially pesky situations, like snowy paths.
Close your eyes. Imagine yourself in the driver seat of your stationary car/truck/SUV/golf cart. With your hands on the wheel at 10 and 2, lift your foot from the brake and lightly press the accelerator pedal. Feel your body press into the seat as the vehicle starts to move forward (depending on whether you have turbo/supercharger, you may also holler in excitement). Now imagine that your vehicle is in Canada (if not already). In the winter. With worn tires that you’ve been meaning to replace. From a stop, now put your foot on the accelerator. What happens? The layers of freshly fallen snow, packed snow, and ice render your engine useless as its herds of horses because the tires spin. The heat from friction digs quickly, and your wheels settle into deep grooves. Unless you can find a herd of actual horses to pull you out, you’re stuck.
Open your eyes. Winter in northern states presents this identical challenge for my wheelchair. No matter whether a power chair is rear-, mid-, or front-wheel drive, general-use power chairs are almost always two-wheel drive. The drive wheels are moderate size with some tread depth, but like your car, I don’t get them replaced often enough. When I was younger, I was always drawn to rally car racing video games at the arcade, which I swear was the best preparation for unexpected vehicular drifting in winter snow. Not surprisingly, I always want to practice wheelchair drifting when the sidewalks get slick.
Drifting is fun when you have nowhere to go, but it’s less than ideal when you’re on a tight schedule. At the end of my first semester back to school after the injury, I was heading to an 8 AM final exam one morning. I knew that it was supposed to snow the night before, but I had no idea that it was going to DUMP a mini blizzard. We had between 6-12 inches of snow, which the snowplows had been working to clear all morning. Jessica bundled me in my winter clothes, fleece jacket, beanie hat, and heavy poncho to brave the conditions.
I left the dorm to navigate to the quickly approaching exam, but there was more snow on the ground than I expected. The groundskeepers in charge of snowplowing typically knew my schedule so that they could try to have my route cleared. However, finals always have an odd schedule, and the plows were catching up from the heavy night of snowing. I didn’t even make it around the corner of the dorm before my wheels worked their way into deep snow groove and spun futilely. Jessica got behind the chair and started to push, though my progress was similar to a drunken college student walking up an icy hill… Slow, staggered, and occasionally backward. Then, like I had inadvertently shined a bat signal in the sky, one of the snowplows working on clearing the paths appeared.
“Hey buddy! Where are you going?” He asked.
“I have class up in Engineering.”
“Okay, follow me!” He plowed my entire route to class like a police escort. I enjoyed a cushy asphalt carpet all the way across campus, often uphill. During winter, I already felt fortunate that the facilities staff was considerate enough to have their first priority as clearing my path to classes, but this made me feel like royalty! Of course, I thanked him profusely when we got to the engineering building before I rushed to class. I didn’t see these employees very often, but I hoped that moments like this gave him the feedback to feel the impact of his efforts. Although it wasn’t out of his way, I likely wouldn’t have made it to class if he had been focusing on some of the other parts of campus that are more heavily trafficked.
