This Thanksgiving, Be Thankful For Your Wheelchair (and here's why...)

It's easy to forget how much our wheelchairs do for us. I used to look at my wheelchair from my bed and think how much I hated the thing; especially during the first few years I was a quad. The wheelchair symbolized how disabled I had become. All that changed though in 2002 when I donated to the Wheelchair Foundation. I donated $60 and helped a 55 year old lady in Croatia (she was an amputee) get her very first wheelchair. Until that point, she was bed-ridden; unable to do anything on her own - outside of her bed - because she couldn't even afford one of the most basic (and used) manual wheelchairs.

With your donation, you were mailed a photo of the person who received a wheelchair thanks to your donation, along with a pamphlet outlining all that the Wheelchair Foundation does, and more importantly, why. In the US, the UK, Australia, Japan, and other wealthy Western European countries, getting a wheelchair when you need one isn't a huge deal. It's a completely different story however in China, poorer Eastern European countries, poor countries throughout Central and South America, and above all, in Africa. In these said countries, a wheelchair - no matter how badly you need it - is considered a luxury. The mindset in these poor countries is that you should just stay in bed, get carried around by a relative if you REALLY need to leave your home (or in a wheelbarrow or on a skateboard if you're able) because after all, you can't go anywhere anyways because nothing is accessible. It's a travesty.

After reading the pamphlet - especially the part where most Africans die within a year after sustaining a SCI due to no wheelchair and/or improper seating (and consequently getting really bad pressure sores) - made me feel totally embarrassed. All this time I was bitching about needing to use my $15,000 "deluxe" powerchair, all the while Africans and other people throughout the world couldn't even dream of tooling around in a powerchair in their villages, living "normal" lives from a seated position. "Now why in the Hell hadn't the peeps at my rehab center told me about this?" I wondered. If I would've known this, I would've looked at my wheelchair in a totally different light...I'll tell you that much.

When my chair was broken down for over a week, when I fell out of my chair, when my PCA never came and my phone died and I was stuck in bed all day, all of these are times I'm reminded of how incredibly grateful I should be for my wheelchair. I shouldn't loathe the thing. I'm one lucky bitch!

You see, my wheelchair isn't a symbol of my disability. If anything, my still, flaccid legs are. My wheelchair is my freedom, my wings. It helps me in a way that no one else can. And THIS can't be disputed.