Broken Arm Work of Art

So the conspiracy continues…this morning as I am heading out the door the left side of my wheelchair literally comes off in my hands. I cannot say that I was surprised I was frustrated and dismayed. Actually, as much as I would enjoy blaming this incident on my machinery against Mark theory I cannot. I have only myself to blame.

I transfer in and out of my power wheelchair by raising the arm—the arm is hinged atcthe back so when I raise the arm up, the arm kind flips back on a hinge at the back of my power chair. I have noted the past couple of weeks the arm has become more and more “wiggly”. I was either really bending the arm and I was going to break it off if I continued on with this course of action or the arm was coming more and more loose and sooner or later something was going to literarily fall off—this morning at 5:50 am the arm came off in my hands. I should have just saddled up when I noticed the part was getting “wiggly” and gone to Magic rest and took advantage of their free “ten minute tune up”. But I chose not to be proactive.

Part of the arm assembly fell on the floor, part was in my hand and part was still attached to the wheelchair and since I was still attached to the wheelchair I figured I would head to work an see how far I got. I could have stayed home and waited for the shop to open and bus there and have them fix it after all that is where I bought the sucker. But that would be a four hour wait. I hate waiting and besides I knew Frank would be at work when I got there and I know Frank at least would take a stab at repairing the arm. It took a few minutes but Fr\ank came through—he went out to his truck and got the set of tools he got on sale Pep Boys, Western Auto or some car place like that—one of those rd plastic, hard plastic containers which has about thirty thousand pieces of which you will only ever use two. Frank put me back together again—I did not have to catch the bus to points south and mess up my day. I did pull Frank of task but I don’t think Frank minded all that much. I think Frank did a great job but I still need to take my chair in and have the mechanics look at it, the chair still does not feel right..

Unrelated but interesting aside—I felt brave this morning as I dressed for work. I chose blue slacks and a white, pure white pull over with a collar. I even ate breakfast without a shirt to keep myself presentable but a round 9:45 a m, the coffee cold( but still goods). I was holding the up in one hand very tenuous for a quadriplegic and as I eas holding the cup I tough to myself, ‘what if I should spill his all over me ?’within a second I did. Luckily for me the brew was quite devoid of heat and never use real sugar so I did not become sticky but I as a mess.. the mess dried. I was chilly for an hour or so and I got strange looks from Café Trang when I picked up my munch. But now I my white shirt with coffee stain as a work of art.