You know people say you get used to things that changed in your life. You don't. We all have plans for our lives, we know how we want things to play out. Sure there will be hiccups along the way, but generally you keep going towards your goals, I mean that's the point of life.
Well what if life took your goals from you? What if every fricken plan you made went up in flames one day. I wanted to be an athlete, Basketball first like MJ, then I discovered I loved Volleyball even more. I trained hard almost every day, vice captain and the best on my team. Hell my serves were so good, so spot on, my team would take a break on court. Nothing less than 10 serves, free points for us.
Coach didn't like that the others were complacent with me on the team, he tried to leave me out of matches but we were losing so bad he had to put me in. Can you blame them? I had mastered the floating serve, and could make the ball hit the line. HA! The other teams would scramble trying to hit or cry 'out' for line balls. Sometimes I'd shift the ball so it really was out but they were so far into doubt, they'd try to get it only to hit it at an awkward angle unable to return. I was alive in those days.
Three years ago life gave me the finger. A fricken drunk driver! I was out jogging one evening, I had on my reflectors and was on the sidewalk. I was doing everything right! The car came up from behind me, it had crossed the lanes and was headed for me. I saw the lights and turned just as it hit me. I remember feeling the impact just before I was thrown to the right, rolling until I hit a tree.
I remember lying there in so much pain, my lower back hurting so much I couldn't scream, breathing was painful, my head throbbing every thing was blurry and muffled. All I kept thinking was that I was going to die. I don't remember the ambulance. I just remember waking up in the hospital. The doctor said I wouldn't be able to walk again, I was paralyzed from the waist down. The accident had caused a slipped disk which cut off connection between my nerves for my lower body. It would have been better if they'd killed me.
Three years I've been in this God forsaken chair, and every morning I wake up I'm just as pissed and depressed about it. This morning was the one of those bad ones. I had another dream about being on the court, I tried to rush out of bed as soon as I opened my eyes. Only to end up hanging upside down off the bed trying in vain to stop the rest of my body from slipping to the floor.
My feet are dead weights, a constant reminder of what never was. My body is in two parts, my torso and everything above my waist that can feel and move; and the nothingness that exists below my waist, it's just an empty void. Do you know what it's like to look at your body and can't move it? Can't feel it? Your feet are supposed to take you places, I have to carry mine around and lift them several times a day.
It's annoying being like this, I try to avoid leaving the house, but sometimes it's necessary. Then you get out in public and the sidewalks are cracked or got juts in them you have to maneuver through. You go to use the restroom and some entitled able-bodied idiot decides to use the disabled one.
But it's not all bad. Sometimes I go to the courts, help the kids practise their receives or spikes. Tom and I will race our chairs round the park too. I have become more adept with my hands, they're stronger and tougher too.
Hate leaving the house on rainy days. Hate dog owners who don't clean up after their pets. Hate people that slap gum on the railings or spit it on the ground. Terrified of using the crosswalks. Still panic when I roll my chair down a flight of stairs. Horrified to use the restroom in public. Hate putting on socks and shoes.
Love the wind rushing past my ears when I'm speeding. Love the way I can spin and drift my chair. Love seeing the awe on little kids faces when I pop the front of the chair and spin. Like the disability preference in waiting lines. Love the rush of the wheels against my hands when I'm on a straight path.
But you still don't get used to it. Sometimes I get this sharp pulsing pain in my lower back, phantom pain the doctor called it. There's nothing phantom about it! It's as real as it was the day I was hit. I know what I'm missing, I wasn't born like this. I want to walk again, to feel my feet beating the ground as I jog. I want to dip my feet in the pond and feel the cool water and the fish nibbling at my toes. I want to stand and sit without needing my hands to push and prop me. I want to stand on the court and serve again, my team looking at me with hope in their eyes.
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