Post by Pony on May 4, 2013 15:03:48 GMT -5
Swallowing My Pride
I’d like to think of myself as a prideful person, having accomplished a lot since my injury that paralyzed me from my chest down, including my hands, which I continue to use in many ways, but sadly, the dexterity of playing guitar, or even opening my hand to grasp something has been stolen away. Still, I push this wheelchair, banging and scraping my hands and forearms constantly. In fact, my hands stay dirty and wounded, but it’s ok. It’s part of the price I pay for my independence and retaining, what I call, pride.
While I gain freedom by pushing, I also lose freedom by the speed and ease to do things, especially tasks that require finger movement. You see, there are fine functions that require more fingers use than I have. The more a function needs finger dexterity; the more difficult it is, or in some cases completely impossible. I can look deceiving as I push my chair, type fairly fast with a pen in one hand, text with one knuckle pretty quickly, grab my cell phone from a holster on my chair, etc. At first glance, my hands can look normal, but there are functions that I simply can’t do without hand-strength or working fingers, or sensation.
In some cases, I have to ask for more help than I’m comfortable with. And I’m just being honest when I say it digs at me to ask for help with little things that seems so easy, but is outside my physical ability. For example, it makes me feel silly to ask someone to open a chocolate wrapper, or open crackers. It really comes down to how bad I want to something. And yes, if I want something bad enough, then I must grit my teeth and swallow my pride.
Throughout the years of my second-life from this chair, I’ve learned that swallowing my pride is definitely a part of the price I pay for continuing my march for freedom. It’s a march that will continue until I die.
