Wheelies Coming Home for the Holidays

This blog deals with wheelie issues, but uh, pretty sure everybody’s got something to say about the holidays. Here’s my say on stuff you notice as a wheelie going home for winter solstice, the stuff that differs from the day-to-day. This post assumes that said wheelie has the means and opportunity to move out, and as such, has the choice to visit family during designated times, though not everyone (wheelie or not) has this option.

1. It’s Back to Screaming. When you’ve had the opportunity to live on your own for awhile, you forget what it is to scream for your parent’s help, until you’re back with ‘em. When you’re not visiting the parental units, mumbling swear words to yourself and making mental notes about how to do life more efficiently becomes custom ; If you fall over, or drop a plate, or fall over again, you assess your options and then call for help on the phone if need be. When visiting the fam, there’s no helpline,things are less wheelie-friendly, and you go back to the good old days of yelling for the assistance of your trusted family members.

It goes something like this:

“Mom. I have to go pee.”

“Ok, honey.”

Mom walks upstairs, does laundry, goes pee herself, forgets you exist.

“Mom. Come back? Mom!”

Here’s a very accurate portrayal of the common occurrence of yelling for help, which I feel describes a large chunk of my early life:

^^BUDDY THE ELF.

2.You’re Overly Sensitive to the Head-pats of Relatives After entering ‘The Real World’ and realizing that wheeie condescension is a real, documented thing,(you weren’t just imaging it, all these years), your relative’s abundances of affection can feel a little off putting. Your grandma goes in for the kill, arms wide and ready to embrace for two minutes too long, and you have to remember that she’s your grandma, being a grandma, and not a douchebag who thinks it’s cool to hug you for no reason.

3. Dressing is Optional When you lived at home it was very GET-DRESSED-FOR-SCHOOL-BEFORE-PARENTS-HAVE-TO-LEAVE-FOR-WORK,-OR-GO-TO-SCHOOL-NAKED. Now that home is a vacation destination, everyone is much more relaxed about whether or not you wear presentable clothes at 3:00 on a Tuesday.

let-it-go

4. The Fucking Wheelie Chair on The Airplane. Have you seen the mechanism they use to transport wheelies from wheelchair to flight seat? Here:

aisle-chair-2

Armrests are for wimps.

I’m an adult who goes through life using a child-sized wheelchair, and that damn transport seat is too small for my butt. Seriously, I can feel my future bum cellulite folding over the sides. Thanks gravity.

5. Weird, Awkward Transfers. In wheelie life, transfers happen when a wheelie moves out of their wheelchair (gasp! Stop, you’re scaring me.) and onto another spot, or vice-verse. I like to think of it as standing to sit again (it’s incentive). From chair to sofa, sofa to chair, chair to toilet, chair to bed, you get the idea.

When you’re 17 and used to the set-up of your parents house/ apartment, you find creative ways to do these transfers, assuming your house wasn’t built with your disability in mind. When you’re twentysomething and you return to the same spot (or a similar one), the transfers you once figured with ease now seem mind-boggling. Like, How the fuck did I do this everyday. Oh, aging, you’re such an undermining sneak.

6. Aging Parents Speaking of aging, dear ma and pa are doing the slow crawl towards death, noticeably more-so every year. This means that any assistance they give during your visit becomes a bit more of a struggle and you realize with a start that everyone has an expiry date. Eventually, this will lead you to think of other “care options” like getting a boyfriend who loves you a lot or hiring a friend. But for now it’s just a simple reminder that nothing is permanent, or to be taken for granted.

Add-ons welcome, eerbody’s different.

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2 Comments

  1. I have just the opposite problem that you have. I don’t live anywhere close to my family, but I live in the same tiny town that my in-laws live it so guess where I end up for the holiday meals. Everyone wants to treat me as if I was a total invalid and try to second guess what I want. They hover over me as if they were alien spacecrafts. Maybe they are aliens.

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