From where I sit, I can see the handles for someone to hold, the wheels that will turn as it is pushed. The girls have practiced lifting it high enough to load into the back of the pickup where it will be bungycorded in so off the girls and I can go, somewhat independent.
Still no name, no label, to explain how in less than a year I've gotten here, but here I am, regardless. In order to go to the college and get from one end to the other, this is what I've got: a sweet ride of a wheelchair, designed for comfort, a gift from two wonderful families, one who no longer needed it so passed it on to one of my rocks, my foundation, who with her husband, mailed it to me, buried in hundreds upon hundreds of peanuts. I am blessed. We've paid out of pocket for canes, a shower seat, a walker. The wheelchair was out of reach, as is a scooter, until we have diagnosis and insurance will pay. The area for the ramp to be built has been cleared of rose bushes and trees. In a couple months, I will wheel right out the door and race down the ramp and out into the world. Still with my helpers, no doubt, but we are all entwined, all interdependent. Our family simply expresses it more loudly and clearly. And I am reminded of how lucky I am to have such wonderful helpers.
Oh, and thank heavens for all my stuff that lets me get around. I did it again. Left ankle sprained again.
It looks worse today, and now the right is matching it. I give up. Bring on the wheels!