Flash Fiction - First Day Back by ParaCathy
Cathy used her wrists and palms to grasp the soft sheets, tossing them to the side and uncovering herself. She pushed herself up with some effort, using her forearms and elbows as she learned in rehab, until she was sitting, then pulled her limp, numb lower body a foot, so she was leaning against the oak headboard.
It was her first day back at work since the accident, and she was nervous, couldn't sleep. She woke up an hour before her alarm, which was already set an hour earlier than it had been before... before her jogging accident, before her broken back, before...
She looked to her left, to the chrome and black wheelchair that sat there, wheels locked, ready to carry her, to take her wherever she needed to go. She focused back on her normal routine, the routine that had been drilled into her over weeks and weeks of rehab.
Her braces were first, and she used her wrists and mouth to pull on the nylon and plastic splints, holding her wrists rigid, her lifeless fingers curled against her palm. She pressed the Velcro closures and then went to work on her diaper. It was a bulky overnight diaper that she hated, but also understood she needed. Changing her sheets every other day would be much more taxing - and more embarrassing, considering the reason behind it. She remembered the first time she saw the nurses change her sheets after she had wet them, and blushed a little, embarrassed at the memory.
Using her braced wrists and hands, she was able to remove the nighttime diaper and dispose if it, then took out some cleansing wipes and cleaned herself. There was no feeling, no sensation, nothing at all any more, not from her nipples down. Feet, legs, sex, stomach - it was all just numb now, useless. It was still her, of course - her body, her parts - but they were different now. She was different now.
Her panties were next. No more exotic thongs, though. She pulled open her nightstand drawer using the pull-loop that Miranda had added to it for her. Pulled out a pair of pink cotton panties and a 'protective undergarment' - a fancy way to say a small diaper, again in case she didn't cath in time, or her schedule was off a little. She struggled first to pull her limp left leg up until her knee just about hit her chest, then struggled with her mostly useless hands to get the panties on over her curled left foot. She did it, then pulled up the right leg and, after a few tries, finally got that leg into the panties too. Then it was just using her braced wrists to pull the panties up her unmoving legs, until they were up to her thighs. She slipped in the padded diaper insert and pulled them all the way up, rolling her hips side to side clumsily to get them all the way up.
Her bra was next - no more Victoria Secret for her. No way she could manage the clasps. She pulled an adapted bra over her head and pushed her arms through it, then used her braced wrists to pull and push it into place over her full - though half numb - breasts.
This process had already taken a full twenty five minutes and Cathy was feeling frustrated. She hadn't even made it into her wheelchair yet, hadn't even tried getting her stockings on. She had don it a few times in rehab, as she liked wearing stockings and pantyhose, but she knew it would be hard, that she might not even manage it.
She pulled a pair of nude pantyhose from her drawer and began the laborious process of scrunching them up onto her limp hands. First her left leg, floppy dead weight. She pulled the scrunched hose over her curled foot and began pulling it up past her ankle, to her calf, using her wrists and braced palms. Then the same process for the right leg, scrunching the hose over her crippled hands, then pulling the stretchy material over her unfeeling foot, up her leg, matching the level of the left. Then she pulled and slid and manipulated her stockings, her legs, her half-dead hands, to get the hose up her limp legs, up to her hips, tugging and pulling, rolling her hips from side to side like they showed her in rehab. Smoothing the stockings out with her braced hands, her wrists.
It took her another half hour. Thirty two minutes, to be exact - she was keeping track on the digital clock by the bedside. Thirty two minutes to put on a pair of nude colored pantyhose. And they still didn't set right on her right foot, the toe was noticeably crooked, but she didn't have the energy or the patience to fix it. She was just satisfied, even proud, that she had gotten it done all by herself. Something so simple a few months ago, barely a second thought in her daily routine, but now....
Cathy grabbed her smooth transfer board from the bedside and propped it between the bed and her wheelchair, pushing thoughts of 'before' out of her head. It would drive her to madness, thinking of 'before', because with a broken back and a diagnosis of low-level quadriplegic there was no 'before'. There was just 'here and now'. Just ugly words like 'wheelchair' and 'cripple' and 'catheter' and 'assisted devices'.
She began the slow, careful transfer into her wheelchair, first setting the transfer board firmly, moving her buttocks onto it, slipping her already atrophied legs off the bed limply, getting her balance - or what was left of it. She pushed with one braced hand, pulled with the other, slid her bottom over the smooth transfer board into the seat of her wheelchair. Seat belt first - she made that mistake already, second day home, and toppled to the floor. The Velcro belt was secured in place, then she started pulling her legs into the chair's legrests. Positioning them as best she could, though her toes always flopped and pointed in odd directions now. Not very ladylike, but then again was she even still a lady? Or just some 'thing' in a chair, numb and lifeless from her nipples down? The things that made her a woman now foreign to her, familiar yet distant, like an aunt you remember form childhood but haven't seen in decades.
She moved the transfer board back to it's spot by the bed and pushed on the knobbed rims of her manual chair, using the strength in her biceps and triceps to move herself, turning towards the door. She could have had a power chair - probably should have had a power chair. Hell, wished she had a power chair the first time she wheeled over moderate carpet, and Miranda's parent's house. She had to ask for help, she couldn't get the chair moving once it had stopped. Too much resistance from that plush carpeting. She cried that night on the way home. Miranda held her hand, but she barely felt it.
She made it to the bathroom and started that process. Pulling down her pantyhose, then her panties and diaper, took a while, but wasn't as difficult in her chair. She took out the catheter, cleaned everything as she was expected to, and then proceeded to 'do her business'. The color looked OK, no infections or other things to call the doctor about. She still had a hard time getting used to things like that, checking her pee. Just part of the deal now - lots of ways to land back in the hospital when you can't feel two thirds of your body. Infection, pressure sores, circulation problems. The doctors had gone over so many things, showed her films that were more like horror movies than medical treatments. And this was her life now.
She finished, cleaned everything, then took her 'adapted' hairbrush - that would be a regular hairbrush with a loop around the handle that cost $40 instead of the normal $8. She slowly and clumsily brushed her hair, hated the way it looked, brushed it again, made it worse, then finally got it to a point where it was at least passable. Small victories were about the best she hoped for since the accident.
Done in the bathroom she wheeled to her closet, all her clothing now hanging 'wheelchair height', and picked out a very conservative skirt and blouse. The skirt was, of course, 'adaptive clothing' - specially made for someone in a chair, someone who wouldn't be standing up in it. She pulled on the white blouse and used the 'button puller' to get it buttoned up. A simple tool, she actually thought it would have been handy even before her accident, when she could use her hands, because it made buttoning her blouse very simple. After her blouse, she took the skirt - Velcro closures and a specially cut waist helped her to get it on without too much struggle, though it still took her nearly ten minutes to get it on and fastened properly. She pushed herself to the floor length mirror and looked at herself.
She tried to see 'Cathy' - her face, the curve of her breasts, the fall of her auburn hair. Instead she saw the wheelchair. She saw her useless legs. She saw the braces on her hands. She saw her curled feet. She saw the silver SUV that had thrown her twelve feet into the air as she was jogging, shattering her spine. She saw the rest of her life in a wheelchair. She turned her eyes away.
She wheeled to the kitchen and started the coffee, then took out some bread and slid it into the toaster. Everything was 'adapted' for her, true, but it was still a pain in the ass. Just putting something within easy reach didn't really make it easier for someone who couldn't move or feel her fingers, she thought bitterly, grabbing a coffee mug between her wrists and placing it under the Keurig machine. Once it was heated up, she dropped a K-Cup into the hopper and hit the flashing button, the machine whirring to life and brewing her morning coffee.
She ate her toast and slowly drank her coffee, watching CNN, talking heads debating about something or someone she had never heard of. She used to be so interested in the news, wanting to sound 'informed' and 'worldly'. Now her world was very different, and she really didn't care about those things any more. Her world was about getting through the day without falling out of her wheelchair or spilling her drink all over herself or pissing herself. that was about the biggest deal in world events she could handle at this point.
Things would get better, that was the mantra in rehab. Not her legs, not her hands, but 'things'. They meant, of course, that with practice and rehab and exercise and adherence to a 'program', living with her disability would get better, be more managable, daily tasks would seem less daunting. But that was after years. Maybe three or four of five of them. ans some things she would never 'get used to'. Never just 'accept and move on'. That was from Mike, one of her rehab coaches, who had been a paraplegic for a decade. A decade in a chair, and the only ray of hope he could give her was 'It will get better, but it will take a few years, at least'. Awesome.
And it was her first day back at work.
She wheeled to the door and reached over to the plant stand she had converted to her 'easy-reach shoe storage'. She only had one pair of 'approved' shoes, black leather things that were 'good for her feet' and 'protective' but looked like an elderly librarian had designed them. She lifted her limp left leg first and slipped the shoe onto her curled foot, making sure her toes weren't pinched or twisted, then placed her foot back onto the foot bar. She did the Same for the right, almost dropping the shoe but catching it by pressing it between her left leg and forearm, then struggling to manipulate it back into position. She got it on and placed her foot back on her footrest, trying to position her feet 'normally', but no matter what she tried they always slid or flopped back into looking 'wrong' - curled and turned in at her ankles. She stopped fidgeting with them in annoyed defeat and wheeled to her desk, rummaging through her paperwork, making sure she had her door card, her ID badge. Work had elevators and ramps, she wasn't worried about that nearly as much as what her co-workers would do, what they would say. She was going to feel like she was in an aquarium or zoo exhibit for a few weeks, she was sure.
She told herself she was ready for it, but as the clock ticked closer and closer to the time she had to meet the car they were sending, the wheelchair accessible transport they were providing until she got her license back, she wasn't as sure. She was starting to feel nervous. Afraid.
The clock struck eight thirty and she wheeled out of her apartment, taking her keys and placing her leather bag on her lap. She wheeled down the hall, pushing against the knobs on her rims with her braced palms, and reached the front door. She pressed her door card to the panel on the wall and it swung open for her. She saw the 'car' - an adapted mini-van with the side lift already down and waiting for her - and wheeled up to it , forcing a smile at the driver, and elderly gentleman. He locked her chair to the lift and raised her up eight inches, then she wheeled into the vehicle and loced her chair by the window. The lift folded in and the doors closed, and she was suddenly on her way...
Showing posts with label Realistic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Realistic. Show all posts
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
NEW Story - The Broken Rule
The Broken Rule
First rule of being a caregiver is to never get emotionally involved. Not that you shouldn't care, of course - you have to care, you have to feel something for the people you work with. But emotional attachment, that's a different story. That's just bad karma, for so many reasons. Not just romantic involvement either. You can't become 'best friends' with your charge. Even if they're the coolest, most awesome person ever, that level of relationship never goes well. I knew this, had known it for years. Like I said, it was the first rule, the most important rule - and it took me almost ten years to break it.
My first charge was a great guy, elderly, had a serious stroke, hemiplegic. I worked with him for almost five years, and I started working with him two weeks before graduation, thanks to agency placement and an early look at my grades (all top marks). He passed away in his sleep, while another caregiver was with him. I got the message form the agency that morning, before I headed in to his apartment. I shed some tears - he was a very nice man, had a loving family - but I was back at work the next day. No big deal. No attachment.
My second charge was an old woman with ALS. We never connected, and I took care of her for three years, afternoon shift. Sat and made sure she could see her game shows, changed her diapers. Surfed the web thanks to a purse-sized Netbook and her neighbor's unsecured wi-fi. That was two years.
Rebecca was next, after a few short-lived hospice stints. She was a sad case, twelve years old, quadriplegic due to a seriously abusive father. Her mom was blind, too - same reason. Fucking sick bastard. There were more than a few nights I went home in tears from that one, I'll admit, and though I did become friends with Becky's mom and we still talked on the phone from time to time, I didn't feel that I had ever broken that golden rule. I stayed with Becky for a little over three years, until they had to move to Arizona for some health reasons. Becky had really blossomed, though, in the years I knew her, and was looking forward to high school and maybe even driving some day, with some specially adapted equipment.
Then came Meghan. I have to say, even though I took great pride in my work, I took it all very seriously, and I held that first rule pretty much sacred, I knew I was in trouble on my first day.
How do I describe Meghan? She was ten years my junior, she had just turned nineteen, and was taking a hear off before college. She was severely disabled, of course - that's why she needed a caregiver. She was born without arms - she had smooth shoulders the just ended. Rare birth defect, nobody saw it coming, but her family was able to cope with it. She was learning to use her legs and feet for arms and hands, standard rehab stuff, from a very early age, when the second half of God's 1-2 punch hit her.
Her neighbors were very 'global village' kinds of people and, when Meghan was only ten, they had an exchange student from India visit for half a school year. Meghan was very friendly and outgoing, of course, and became friends with the student, Priyesh, who was four or five years older than Meghan, but was very nice and very friendly as well. The pair hung out a number of times, went swimming together - had typical 'school friends' contact for a few months. Then Meghan started to feel sick. Then Meghan couldn't use her feet to pick things up any more. Then Meghan woke up unable to move her legs at all. Not even wiggle a toe.
It didn't take long for the doctors to narrow things down and diagnose Meghan with polio. Priyesh's paperwork turned out to have some 'inaccuracies' in it, and he was indeed carrying the polio virus. Meghan had contracted the disease, along with one other girl in Priyesh's class. It was quite the scandal, apparently, though I didn't remember anything in the papers about it.
That had been nine years previous and had permanently confined Meghan to a mouth-controlled wheelchair. It hadn't damped her spirit, however - in truth, it had probably caused her inner light to shine all the more brightly, because that's just how Meghan was.
When I met her, she was wearing a smart skirt, nude stockings on her wasted, polio-crippled legs, and a grey long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves hanging empty at her shoulders. She sat in a fancy power wheelchair, her mouth stick at the ready, and she smiled this glowing, beacon-like smile that took me off guard. I'd worked with dozens of critically ill and severely disabled clients over the years, and Meghan was the first, the absolute first, who did not show the slightest hint of the inner bitterness and negativity that comes with having a condition that required, well... me.
I introduced myself and got a rundown from Rob, the caregiver I was taking over for. He was getting married and moving to Nebraska or something, but you could tell there was a bond between he and Meghan that went somewhat beyond that of caregiver and patient. I mentally chastised Rob for breaking the first rule, but in my heart, after just meeting Meghan, I could almost understand.
I pushed that out of my mind. For a little while, anyway.
"So, am I your most pathetic case?" Meghan asked cheerfully after Rob had left and I started about my routine. The question caught me off guard, more for her characterizing herself as 'pathetic' than anything else.
"Actually, you're in second place." I said honestly, still trying to keep my professional distance while at the same time being friendly and approachable.
"Oooh, really? Tell me about it!" she asked, using her mouth control to turn in my direction, her face full of curiosity and excitement.
"Young girl." I said, stopping what I was doing. "Twelve when I met her. Her dad threw her against the wall for changing the channel on the TV. Broke her neck." I swallowed. Becky was still a hard one for me. "Her mom tried to call 911 to get her help. He tore the phone out of the wall, beat her in the face with it. Blinded her, both eyes."
"Jesus." Meghan said, eyes wide.
"I know. Sorry - probably shouldn't have gone into so much detail." I said, genuinely sorry for having said so much. Instead of horror, though, Meghan beamed. I looked at her. "Something funny?" I asked at the smile on her face.
"sorry, I feel terrible for the girl and her mom, naturally, but this is the first time I've come in second place. I feel almost normal! I need to facebook this!" And she took her mouth control between her lips and moved into another room as I stood there shocked.
And that, in a nutshell, was Meghan. She knew she was terribly crippled. Armless, no hope of prosthetic, polio-crippled legs that had basically stopped growing when she was ten. But she had a beauty about her that was almost supernatural. Her amber hair glowed, her face was gorgeous, her smile was electric. She didn't seem to have a negative bone in her crippled body, and even when she talked about her disability there was no bitterness, no self pity. She was just 'Meghan', and she was disabled in body, but never, ever in spirit.
Looking back now, I think knew that first day that the only outcome for me was to fall in love with Meghan. I didn't even know if she was gay, I wasn't even sure I was gay, but what I did know on that first day was that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. That when we were together, it was like I was lying on a sunny beach, and when I left at the end of the day, it was like my life filled with clouds and rain.
Every day,I'd show up for work a little earlier. Every day, I'd spend an extra few minutes after my relief arrived. I'd help Meghan with her facebook, or just watch a little TV with her, or get takeout Chinese delivered, paying for it out of my own pocket, even though it was against her nutritional plan. Every day, my job became less about 'taking care of Meghan' and more about 'Making Meghan happy.' And then one day, maybe two months into the job, Meghan did it, she crossed the line, and I let her, and I never looked back.
"Elizabeth." she said in her beautiful, sing-song voice.
"Yes, dear?" I asked, having dropped the formality of 'Meghan' or 'Miss Jones' on my second day.
"I'm almost 20, you know." she said matter of factly. She was, it was true. Her birthday was only six or so weeks away. I had already thought about what I would get her.
"Yes - coming up soon. Any thoughts on what you'd like?"
Meghan looked at me with her deep, chocolate brown eyes, and as usual, I started to melt. Then she said it.
"I'd like to lose my virginity. With you." she said simply, but with such deep emotion that all I could do was to move to her wheelchair and hug her, feeling her armless shoulders, smelling her apple-blossom shampoo. And I kissed her.
I have always dreamed of a kiss like that kiss. Not a cliche, romance novel kiss that's all about love and kittens and brass horns. It was loving, it was passionate, it was heartfelt, yes. But more than that this was a kiss straight out of my deepest most erotic fantasy. My guts turned to warm pudding and my pussy felt like it was a waterfall. My knees buckled and I started kissing Meghan's legs, her thighs, and she begged me to do more. Pleaded with me. The lust in her voice was deeper and more sincere that I had ever heard.
I pushed her wheelchair to the bedroom and undressed in front of her. We said nothing. I kissed her, deeply, passionately, running my fingers through her hair. She moaned, she pressed her abbreviated body against mine from her wheelchair. I slipped her soft t-shirt off, she wasn't wearing a bra. I kissed her breasts sensually, I licked and nibbled her nipples, and she moaned.
I knew I would never feel her fingers running through my hair as I kissed her. I knew I would never feel her legs wrapped around me as I held her. I knew that, more than anyone I had ever been with, I wanted Meghan. With every fiber of my being, I wanted her. As crippled and as helpless as she was, I could not imagine living my life without her.
I kissed her armless shoulder, tracing sensual patterns across her smooth skin with my tongue, and she practically whimpered. I moved down her warm, soft body as she sat in her wheelchair, slowly pulling down her cotton skirt, revealing her diaper. The diaper that I had changed dozens of times, never admitting to myself what I wanted to do once I had it off. Now I tore it open just to touch that golden fur that glistened - Meghan was so aroused, it was like a heavy dew had fallen just for me.
Her legs were small, thin, limp from the polio that had crippled her. She couldn't move them at all, not even wiggle a toe; the polio had seen to that. But she could still feel them. Feel every touch, every caress. I slipped her soft socks off of her feet and began to kiss them, to suck on her small toes, like I had fantasized as I lay in bed at night dreaming of her hair, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. I kissed and licked her feet and she giggle, and then she moaned, and then she begged me to come closer, to move higher up her small, useless legs.
I wanted to tease her - I really did. I wanted her first sexual experience to be long, and sensual, and erotic, and drawn out. I wanted it to be perfect for her, for my perfect crippled angel. But she didn't want that. The need in her eyes, the deep desire in her voice drew me in, and I hadn't even taken her out of her wheelchair when my tongue pressed against the exquisite folds of her moist flower. It was like a lightning strike had hit both of us as I spread her withered legs and licked and sucked on her clit as I poked my tongue into her sweet virgin sex.
Meghan moaned and yelled and screamed as I ate her out, caressing and kissing and licking her pussy, her limp legs. It didn't take long before all that pent up sexual frustration finally broke, and she came, oh my darling Meghan came in waves of orgasm that made her weep, tears of joy and pleasure rolling down her cheeks. She had always tried to think of herself as 'normal', but sex, sensuality, that was something that always eluded her in her armless, crippled state. A fact that I was happy to change for her.
I lay her in bed without her even asking, and I kissed and held her as she smiled, as she thanked me, as she wept. And then I moved myself into a position that made it easy for her to access my dripping wet sex, and without a word she was at me. Her mouth was so talented, it caught me off guard, though it had been her only means of interacting with the world since she was ten - it shouldn't have surprised me as it did. Her tongue and lips made me write in pleasure and moan with delight, and as I caressed her smooth, armless shoulders, I came loudly, explosively, my juices glistening across her beaming face. She didn't want to stop, and I came another three times as she licked and kissed my sensitive clit, before finally collapsing beside her, wrapping my arms around her warm, panting frame.
I could feel her limp, soft legs pressed against my naked skin, I could feel the smooth armless shoulders rub against me. Meghan was helpless, unable to even scratch her nose or use the toilet on her own, but to me she was perfect, she was so beautiful, so sensual, and I told her that, whispered it in her ear as we lay there together. And I told her I loved her. She said nothing. She wept. I knew it wasn't with sadness.
I cleaned Meghan and dressed her and got myself cleaned up a half hour before my shift ended, and my replacement - a very nice older woman named Sarah - immediately knew something had changed. There was an energy, an atmosphere in the place that was so warm and almost electric. As I clocked out of my shift and looked into Meghan's beautiful, loving eyes, I died a little inside as I left for home. I knew I wouldn't be able to do that much longer - to leave her like that. I don't think either of us could handle it.
I showed up for work the next day an hour early carrying an overnight bag, and told Meghan I didn't intend to let her sleep alone again. She asked me to dress her, and instead of her signature long sleeved shirt I dressed her in a pink athletic fit tank top with no bra, exposing her deformity, accentuating her difference, and I loved it. And she saw the way I looked at her, with the love and attraction I felt for her, and she loved it too. It lifted her, it excited her. It made her happy, a happiness that she felt she might never experience in all her life. A happiness I too, knew I had been missing, until this beautiful, sensual, crippled girl came into my life.
We made love again that day, this time a slow, sensual, erotic thing that made us both cry out in passion and delight for hours. We went out to lunch at a local cafe, and Meghan relished the looks and stares of passers by as I fed her a sandwich and iced coffee and we talked and giggled together. Meghan then called the nursing agency and told them that her situation had changed, and that she no longer needed night time care. She looked at me with loving eyes. The situation had certainly changed. The whole world had changed. For both of us.
First rule of being a caregiver is to never get emotionally involved. Not that you shouldn't care, of course - you have to care, you have to feel something for the people you work with. But emotional attachment, that's a different story. That's just bad karma, for so many reasons. Not just romantic involvement either. You can't become 'best friends' with your charge. Even if they're the coolest, most awesome person ever, that level of relationship never goes well. I knew this, had known it for years. Like I said, it was the first rule, the most important rule - and it took me almost ten years to break it.
My first charge was a great guy, elderly, had a serious stroke, hemiplegic. I worked with him for almost five years, and I started working with him two weeks before graduation, thanks to agency placement and an early look at my grades (all top marks). He passed away in his sleep, while another caregiver was with him. I got the message form the agency that morning, before I headed in to his apartment. I shed some tears - he was a very nice man, had a loving family - but I was back at work the next day. No big deal. No attachment.
My second charge was an old woman with ALS. We never connected, and I took care of her for three years, afternoon shift. Sat and made sure she could see her game shows, changed her diapers. Surfed the web thanks to a purse-sized Netbook and her neighbor's unsecured wi-fi. That was two years.
Rebecca was next, after a few short-lived hospice stints. She was a sad case, twelve years old, quadriplegic due to a seriously abusive father. Her mom was blind, too - same reason. Fucking sick bastard. There were more than a few nights I went home in tears from that one, I'll admit, and though I did become friends with Becky's mom and we still talked on the phone from time to time, I didn't feel that I had ever broken that golden rule. I stayed with Becky for a little over three years, until they had to move to Arizona for some health reasons. Becky had really blossomed, though, in the years I knew her, and was looking forward to high school and maybe even driving some day, with some specially adapted equipment.
Then came Meghan. I have to say, even though I took great pride in my work, I took it all very seriously, and I held that first rule pretty much sacred, I knew I was in trouble on my first day.
How do I describe Meghan? She was ten years my junior, she had just turned nineteen, and was taking a hear off before college. She was severely disabled, of course - that's why she needed a caregiver. She was born without arms - she had smooth shoulders the just ended. Rare birth defect, nobody saw it coming, but her family was able to cope with it. She was learning to use her legs and feet for arms and hands, standard rehab stuff, from a very early age, when the second half of God's 1-2 punch hit her.
Her neighbors were very 'global village' kinds of people and, when Meghan was only ten, they had an exchange student from India visit for half a school year. Meghan was very friendly and outgoing, of course, and became friends with the student, Priyesh, who was four or five years older than Meghan, but was very nice and very friendly as well. The pair hung out a number of times, went swimming together - had typical 'school friends' contact for a few months. Then Meghan started to feel sick. Then Meghan couldn't use her feet to pick things up any more. Then Meghan woke up unable to move her legs at all. Not even wiggle a toe.
It didn't take long for the doctors to narrow things down and diagnose Meghan with polio. Priyesh's paperwork turned out to have some 'inaccuracies' in it, and he was indeed carrying the polio virus. Meghan had contracted the disease, along with one other girl in Priyesh's class. It was quite the scandal, apparently, though I didn't remember anything in the papers about it.
That had been nine years previous and had permanently confined Meghan to a mouth-controlled wheelchair. It hadn't damped her spirit, however - in truth, it had probably caused her inner light to shine all the more brightly, because that's just how Meghan was.
When I met her, she was wearing a smart skirt, nude stockings on her wasted, polio-crippled legs, and a grey long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves hanging empty at her shoulders. She sat in a fancy power wheelchair, her mouth stick at the ready, and she smiled this glowing, beacon-like smile that took me off guard. I'd worked with dozens of critically ill and severely disabled clients over the years, and Meghan was the first, the absolute first, who did not show the slightest hint of the inner bitterness and negativity that comes with having a condition that required, well... me.
I introduced myself and got a rundown from Rob, the caregiver I was taking over for. He was getting married and moving to Nebraska or something, but you could tell there was a bond between he and Meghan that went somewhat beyond that of caregiver and patient. I mentally chastised Rob for breaking the first rule, but in my heart, after just meeting Meghan, I could almost understand.
I pushed that out of my mind. For a little while, anyway.
"So, am I your most pathetic case?" Meghan asked cheerfully after Rob had left and I started about my routine. The question caught me off guard, more for her characterizing herself as 'pathetic' than anything else.
"Actually, you're in second place." I said honestly, still trying to keep my professional distance while at the same time being friendly and approachable.
"Oooh, really? Tell me about it!" she asked, using her mouth control to turn in my direction, her face full of curiosity and excitement.
"Young girl." I said, stopping what I was doing. "Twelve when I met her. Her dad threw her against the wall for changing the channel on the TV. Broke her neck." I swallowed. Becky was still a hard one for me. "Her mom tried to call 911 to get her help. He tore the phone out of the wall, beat her in the face with it. Blinded her, both eyes."
"Jesus." Meghan said, eyes wide.
"I know. Sorry - probably shouldn't have gone into so much detail." I said, genuinely sorry for having said so much. Instead of horror, though, Meghan beamed. I looked at her. "Something funny?" I asked at the smile on her face.
"sorry, I feel terrible for the girl and her mom, naturally, but this is the first time I've come in second place. I feel almost normal! I need to facebook this!" And she took her mouth control between her lips and moved into another room as I stood there shocked.
And that, in a nutshell, was Meghan. She knew she was terribly crippled. Armless, no hope of prosthetic, polio-crippled legs that had basically stopped growing when she was ten. But she had a beauty about her that was almost supernatural. Her amber hair glowed, her face was gorgeous, her smile was electric. She didn't seem to have a negative bone in her crippled body, and even when she talked about her disability there was no bitterness, no self pity. She was just 'Meghan', and she was disabled in body, but never, ever in spirit.
Looking back now, I think knew that first day that the only outcome for me was to fall in love with Meghan. I didn't even know if she was gay, I wasn't even sure I was gay, but what I did know on that first day was that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. That when we were together, it was like I was lying on a sunny beach, and when I left at the end of the day, it was like my life filled with clouds and rain.
Every day,I'd show up for work a little earlier. Every day, I'd spend an extra few minutes after my relief arrived. I'd help Meghan with her facebook, or just watch a little TV with her, or get takeout Chinese delivered, paying for it out of my own pocket, even though it was against her nutritional plan. Every day, my job became less about 'taking care of Meghan' and more about 'Making Meghan happy.' And then one day, maybe two months into the job, Meghan did it, she crossed the line, and I let her, and I never looked back.
"Elizabeth." she said in her beautiful, sing-song voice.
"Yes, dear?" I asked, having dropped the formality of 'Meghan' or 'Miss Jones' on my second day.
"I'm almost 20, you know." she said matter of factly. She was, it was true. Her birthday was only six or so weeks away. I had already thought about what I would get her.
"Yes - coming up soon. Any thoughts on what you'd like?"
Meghan looked at me with her deep, chocolate brown eyes, and as usual, I started to melt. Then she said it.
"I'd like to lose my virginity. With you." she said simply, but with such deep emotion that all I could do was to move to her wheelchair and hug her, feeling her armless shoulders, smelling her apple-blossom shampoo. And I kissed her.
I have always dreamed of a kiss like that kiss. Not a cliche, romance novel kiss that's all about love and kittens and brass horns. It was loving, it was passionate, it was heartfelt, yes. But more than that this was a kiss straight out of my deepest most erotic fantasy. My guts turned to warm pudding and my pussy felt like it was a waterfall. My knees buckled and I started kissing Meghan's legs, her thighs, and she begged me to do more. Pleaded with me. The lust in her voice was deeper and more sincere that I had ever heard.
I pushed her wheelchair to the bedroom and undressed in front of her. We said nothing. I kissed her, deeply, passionately, running my fingers through her hair. She moaned, she pressed her abbreviated body against mine from her wheelchair. I slipped her soft t-shirt off, she wasn't wearing a bra. I kissed her breasts sensually, I licked and nibbled her nipples, and she moaned.
I knew I would never feel her fingers running through my hair as I kissed her. I knew I would never feel her legs wrapped around me as I held her. I knew that, more than anyone I had ever been with, I wanted Meghan. With every fiber of my being, I wanted her. As crippled and as helpless as she was, I could not imagine living my life without her.
I kissed her armless shoulder, tracing sensual patterns across her smooth skin with my tongue, and she practically whimpered. I moved down her warm, soft body as she sat in her wheelchair, slowly pulling down her cotton skirt, revealing her diaper. The diaper that I had changed dozens of times, never admitting to myself what I wanted to do once I had it off. Now I tore it open just to touch that golden fur that glistened - Meghan was so aroused, it was like a heavy dew had fallen just for me.
Her legs were small, thin, limp from the polio that had crippled her. She couldn't move them at all, not even wiggle a toe; the polio had seen to that. But she could still feel them. Feel every touch, every caress. I slipped her soft socks off of her feet and began to kiss them, to suck on her small toes, like I had fantasized as I lay in bed at night dreaming of her hair, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. I kissed and licked her feet and she giggle, and then she moaned, and then she begged me to come closer, to move higher up her small, useless legs.
I wanted to tease her - I really did. I wanted her first sexual experience to be long, and sensual, and erotic, and drawn out. I wanted it to be perfect for her, for my perfect crippled angel. But she didn't want that. The need in her eyes, the deep desire in her voice drew me in, and I hadn't even taken her out of her wheelchair when my tongue pressed against the exquisite folds of her moist flower. It was like a lightning strike had hit both of us as I spread her withered legs and licked and sucked on her clit as I poked my tongue into her sweet virgin sex.
Meghan moaned and yelled and screamed as I ate her out, caressing and kissing and licking her pussy, her limp legs. It didn't take long before all that pent up sexual frustration finally broke, and she came, oh my darling Meghan came in waves of orgasm that made her weep, tears of joy and pleasure rolling down her cheeks. She had always tried to think of herself as 'normal', but sex, sensuality, that was something that always eluded her in her armless, crippled state. A fact that I was happy to change for her.
I lay her in bed without her even asking, and I kissed and held her as she smiled, as she thanked me, as she wept. And then I moved myself into a position that made it easy for her to access my dripping wet sex, and without a word she was at me. Her mouth was so talented, it caught me off guard, though it had been her only means of interacting with the world since she was ten - it shouldn't have surprised me as it did. Her tongue and lips made me write in pleasure and moan with delight, and as I caressed her smooth, armless shoulders, I came loudly, explosively, my juices glistening across her beaming face. She didn't want to stop, and I came another three times as she licked and kissed my sensitive clit, before finally collapsing beside her, wrapping my arms around her warm, panting frame.
I could feel her limp, soft legs pressed against my naked skin, I could feel the smooth armless shoulders rub against me. Meghan was helpless, unable to even scratch her nose or use the toilet on her own, but to me she was perfect, she was so beautiful, so sensual, and I told her that, whispered it in her ear as we lay there together. And I told her I loved her. She said nothing. She wept. I knew it wasn't with sadness.
I cleaned Meghan and dressed her and got myself cleaned up a half hour before my shift ended, and my replacement - a very nice older woman named Sarah - immediately knew something had changed. There was an energy, an atmosphere in the place that was so warm and almost electric. As I clocked out of my shift and looked into Meghan's beautiful, loving eyes, I died a little inside as I left for home. I knew I wouldn't be able to do that much longer - to leave her like that. I don't think either of us could handle it.
I showed up for work the next day an hour early carrying an overnight bag, and told Meghan I didn't intend to let her sleep alone again. She asked me to dress her, and instead of her signature long sleeved shirt I dressed her in a pink athletic fit tank top with no bra, exposing her deformity, accentuating her difference, and I loved it. And she saw the way I looked at her, with the love and attraction I felt for her, and she loved it too. It lifted her, it excited her. It made her happy, a happiness that she felt she might never experience in all her life. A happiness I too, knew I had been missing, until this beautiful, sensual, crippled girl came into my life.
We made love again that day, this time a slow, sensual, erotic thing that made us both cry out in passion and delight for hours. We went out to lunch at a local cafe, and Meghan relished the looks and stares of passers by as I fed her a sandwich and iced coffee and we talked and giggled together. Meghan then called the nursing agency and told them that her situation had changed, and that she no longer needed night time care. She looked at me with loving eyes. The situation had certainly changed. The whole world had changed. For both of us.
Monday, June 8, 2009
NEW Story - A New Arrangement Part 2
New Arrangement 2
Michelle felt dizzy as the chair lift lowered her onto the driveway of her new home. She was familiar with her condition - complete C4 quadriplegic, paralyzed from her neck down - but the movement of the chair lift was a new sensation she wasnt' used to yet, and the sensation made her a little dizzy. She was grateful to be back on the ground. She watched from her power wheelchair as Derek made the adjustments necessary, and she took the mouth control between her lips and manipulated it to move her wheelchair forward and to the left, towards the new house. HER new house, she reminded herself. Perfectly adapted to a woman in her 'condition' - a helpless cripple, to be blunt.
The official reason for her disability was a broken neck due to a slip and fall down the basement stairs. And indeed, she HAD woken up at the bottom of the basement stairs, but that was only after her husband, Derek, had snapped her neck as they made love. It was all part of his 'plan', that she unwittingly assisted with, to make a small fortune using an insurance payout after her 'accident'. What she hadn't realized was that there was another layer to the plan, one that Derek hadn't mentioned, which used some choice investments to turn their half million dollar insurance payout into a multi-million dollar nestegg. By the time Michelle was finished with two and a half months of rehab at a VERY good rehab center, Derek had sold their old house and bought a beautiful new one in a very nice area of the state, and had it completely converted for wheelchair living. Michelle had seen pictures, of course, and seen Dereks' excitement, but even sitting in front of the beautiful, spacious home, she couldn't see it as anything more than a prison. Much like her wheelchair had become. Much like her body had become.
She had experienced this before, of course. Before her 'accident' - before Derek had crippled her. Derek had a fetish for helpless women, wheelchair bound women, and caring for them. Michelle had just wanted to quit her dead-end job and be taken care of. Derek proposed a compromise, where Michelle would 'pretend' to be disabled and he would care for her. They did it for an entire weekend, and it was wonderful, truly delightful for her. She had never felt so loved, so cared for, and the sex was amazing, totally amazing between them. Their little 'roleplay' had completely re-invograted their marriage. And then Derek broke her neck.
It had been hard to keep quiet at first. She was hurt, she was scared, and she had so many things going through her head. But Derek promised to take good care of her. Promised to make it right. It was when the pretty doctor with the long red hair and deep crimson nails sat beside her and told her that she was paralyzed, that she was a quadriplegic, how sorry she was, how Michelle could talk to a grief counsellor... Michelle realized that she really WAS crippled for the rest of her life, and that if she DID turn in Derek, she'd have no-one. She'd be helpless. And then what could she do?
So she kept up the story until she almost believed it, and Derek did make things better. He moved her to the best rehab center in the area, very high end. She had her own room and her own personal therapist that worked with her every day, mostly helping her get used to a life with no feeling below her neck, then moving into the few tasks she could still do. She had extensive training in the very expensive power wheelchair Derek had bought her, the mouth controls, using a mouth stick, and just living as a complete quadriplegic.
Derek visited every day, of course, and when they were alone told her how beautiful she was, how excited he was to take her home, how he would care for her. He brushed her hair once, as she sat in her wheelchair, and she had to admit, it was the most erotic hair brushing she had ever experienced, but she was still afraid. She was handicapped now, she couldn't even scratch her own nose, and she knew all the money in the world couldn't change that. But what else could she do?
Michelle wheeled over the wide paved walkway towards the front door. It opened for her automatically as she approaced, and she was able to easily maneuver her wheelchair into the house. It was large, beautifully decorated, and not nearly as 'adapted looking' as she expected. There were clearly some aspects of the design specifically for her - the wide doorways and extra space between things to allow her to maneuver easily. the bathroom was the most 'adapted', with a special shower and other modifications specific to her condition.
"How do you feel love? Do you like the place?" Michelle realized it was the first time Derek had spoken since they left the rehab center.
"I don't feel anything now, do I love?" she said, looking into his eyes. She could see his passion smolder behind those eyes. Could see his desire for her, deeper than she had ever seen it. Did she feel the same? Could she? It had been almost three months since they had made love, and the last time they made love he broke her neck. But she WANTED to feel it. Michelle WANTED to be the wife that Derek so deeply desired. She looked at him with a mixture of longing and sadness. "I want you." was all she said.
Derek didn't even bring her into the bedroom. They were in a spacious parlor, and Derek undressed and took her limp, curled hands out of her lap and began caressing himself with them. Michelle urged him on, telling him to do things with her body that she no longer could. He used her hands all over his body until she told him to use her feet, then he sat and lifted her dead legs. He took off the soft slippers she wore, then the tight white compression stockings, and she watched him using her floppy, limp feet, using them to play with his balls and shaft.
He was breathing heavy now, Michelle could tell he was close to orgasm. "I want you in my mouth." she said, her own authority surprising her. Derek complied, bringing himself up and allowing her to get his cock in her mouth. She used her lips and her tongue like she was driving her wheelchair, sucking him deeply. She wished she could play with his balls, but her hands just sat in her lap useless. She couldn't even shrug her shoulders. In the end, it didnt' matter. Derek came long and hard and shot his hot cum into her mouth. She lapped it up and didn't want to let go of his cock, still sucking and licking until he pulled gently away from her and collapsed onto the couch. Michelle looked at him and wanted more.
"You're going to have to give me a little time, love." he said breathlessly. "That was the most amzing head I've ever had - you're amazing."
"God Derek, I wasn't sure I could even GET aroused any more, after the accident..." she looked at him from her wheelchair. "But I'm so horny right now. Please honey, fuck me!"
"In your wheelchair?" he asked, amused and aroused.
"Yes, in my wheelchair, I don't care!" she said. "I'm so horny right now.."
Derek lifted her dead legs and spread them, then had a thought. He went into another room and came back out with a pink vibrator, one she used to love 'before'. He removed her catheter and slowly slipped the dildo into her as she watched. Michelle moaned as she saw it enter her, and watched as Derek fucked her numb, unfeeling sex. "Faster, oh god Derek please, I need it so bad!"
Derek fucked her faster, pumping the vibrator in and out of his wife's paralyzed pussy, and he felt himself growing more and more aroused. He took one hand and began strokign his cock with her limp foot as he fucked her, and she begged for more and more. Finally he unstrapped her from her wheelchair and layed her on the floor, spreading her legs and plunging his cock into her flaccid pussy.
It felt different, but incredible. Derek fucked his quadriplegic wife on the floor and Michelle cried out for it, she was desparate, she couldn't feel anything at all, but she was SO excited. As he came close to orgasm, he reached out and grabbed her hair, curling hins fingers in her soft flowing locks and pulling her hair gently.
Her body didn't move, didn't budge, but her screams and moans made is clear that Michelle was having an orgasm. As soon as Derek tugged on her hair, everything just came together and she FELT it - not like she ever had before, but she FELT such pleasure as she didn't think she'd be capable of ever again.
Both of them just lay there for a few minutes, Derek stroking Michelle's hair and Michelle moaning with more pleasure.
"I wasn't expecting that." Michelle said, still breathing heavy.
"Neither was I." Derek said. "You can't feel any of that, can you?"
"Not physically, no, but there was 'something'. I can't explain it. But I want to do it again!" Michelle said, staring at Derek from the floor.
"Let's get some dinner and then maybe we'll try again." Derek said, smiling. "We'll need to get you back in your wheelchair."
"And I want to wear something sexy." Michelle said. Derek smiled.
Michelle wheeled out of the bedroom and Derek wolf-whistled. She was in a black mini-skirt that showed her white diaper, thigh-high silk stockings on her limp legs, black ballet slippers on her soft feet, and a black bustier that boosted her now flaccid breasts and showed her nipples. She smiled as she saw Derek's sensual and hungry look, even though he had been the one to dress her.
The diapers were her idea, and Derek had gladly obliged. It was more work than the catheter, but she knew that's what Derek liked, taking care of her 'special needs', and she was pretty sure every time Derek was going to clean her and change her diaper, he'd be up for fucking her too.
Michelle wheeled into the dining room and parked at the chairless spot beside the large mahogany dining table. Derek brought in a steaming plate of pasta and chicken, then a salad, hot bread, and a bottle of wine.
Derek fed Michelle as she sat there in her power chair, just like that first 'date' they had, when she was pretending for him. It was even more lovely now, even sweeter since she knew there was no way for her to feed herself. There was a deep new connection building between herself and Derek with every bite of food he fed her, every sip of wine.
Derek stroked her hair and her face, but Michelle did start to notice that he seemed to be avoiding anything below her neck for some reason.
"Derek, play with my tits. They're right there in front of you." Michelle purred. She could tell from Derek's response that it took him off gaurd, he was both embarrased and aroused, conflicted over her condidion. "Come on husband - you're going to have to get used to 'the new me' - this IS what you wanted, isn't it?
Derek gave into his baser desires and started playing with her numb paralyzed breasts right there at the table. Michelle moaned as she watched him caress and squeeze her unfeeling nipples, wished she could move her hands to her sex, play with her clit - all things she'd never be able to so on her own again, and instead of feelign bitter, it enhanced her experience, it made her even more aroused. She was panting when Derek finally began to stroke her hair, and as he pulled her hair sharply on either side, she screamed in what was, to her, another amazing orgasm.
Derek pushed Michelle in her wheelchair to the living room and put on the TV. Michelle chose the show and Derek set the channel and the volume to her wishes. As she sat and watched, Derek moved her legs for her, scratched her ear, gave her drinks - anything she needed. Yes, she was numb from her chin down, she was completely helpless, she was wearing a diaper and sitting in an expensive wheelchair. Yes she would be crippled for the rest of her life. But in some crazy, insane way, she was happy - happier than she had ever been. Never again would she - or could she - lift a finger to to anything.
"You look horny, my husband." Michelle purred a little later, smiling at him from her wheelchair. "And my feet are just sitting there limply, not doing anything at all. Why don't you make them feel loved?" she giggled like a schoolgirl.
Derek smiled, then looked worried.
"What's wrong Derek?" Michelle asked.
"Michelle, I need to tell you something, and I don't know how you're going to take it. There's been, well... a change in plans." he said, not even meeting her eyes. Michelle's heart sank. She couldn't do this without him, wouldn't do it...
"Is it me... is it my, my disability?" she said, tears starting to well up...
"No!" Derek said quickly, holding Michelle's limp hand in his. she didn't even notice. "It's not that at all. It's work. I was supposed to be done by now, retired, so I could stay here and care for you, but..."
"You're still working?" Michelle said, confused. "But the money, the investments, you said in the hospital that we were set for life, that neither of us ever had to work again."
"And that's true, mostly - but I guess I was too successful, the investments I made did so well, the firm offered me a lot more money to stay around and wrap up some other packages for them. It will probably be another month, two at the most."
Michelle wasn't sure what to say, how to react. She imagined herself helpless, sitting alone in her wheelchair all day waiting for Derek to return. What if she had an itch, what if she were thirsty? The panic must have shown on her face, because Derek quickly reqassured her.
"No, I won't leave you alone love, not ever! But I've had to hir a nurse to stay with you when I'm not around. She'll be here in the morning and take care of all your needs. I know this wasn't the plan, and I really am sorry, love. Do you forgive me?"
Michelle was still afraid. Derek was one thing - but a complete stranger? Caring for her, changin her diaper, feeding her?
"I promise, it will be OK honey. I will never leave you, I promise."
Michelle smiled hesitantly. It wouldn't be that much different from the rehab hospital, and it was just while Derek was at work.
"It's only for a little while?" she asked
"A few months, tops. And you'll really like Melissa - she's the nurse. She's really nice."
"Ok. Well... " Michelle looked at Derek. "My poor limp feet are still lonely down there. Maybe you'd like to do something about that?"
Derek smiled and kissed her deeply, stroking and tugging at her hair before undressing and lifting her soft, limp feet off her footrests and slipping off her soft black slippers. Michelle felt aroused again, watching her husband take such pleasure in her condition, in her crippled feet. He stroked his cock with her lip stockinged feet first, his cock coming erect almost instantly. He slipped her stockings down and then took her bare, limp feet and masturbated as she sat there, always telling her how sexy she looked, how good she felt. He came with a load moan and hot, spurting cum that splashed all over Michelle's unfeeling feet.
"I want to taste it." she said, and he obliged, lifting one of her limp legs so that she could lick and kiss her own crippled foot, tasting his sweet cum. He let her leg flop back down in her legrest and again kissed her, his tongue deep and probing, his fingers running through hier hair. "Pull it, pull my hair." she whispered in between deep kisses, and he obliged, teasing a little bit at a time, tugging, pulling sensually, building her up until she also came, loudly moaning with pleasure as her body lay still and lifeless in her wheelchair.
"I think it's time for bed there darling." Derek finalyl said, and placed Michelle's mouth control between her lips. She wheeled to the bedroom and Derek lifted her limp body out of the chair and dressed her for bed, wearing a large overnight diaper and compression socks on her limp legs. He kissed her good night and curled up next to her while she lay awake, imagining what the rest of her life was going to be like.
Little did she know, she had no idea what life had in store..
Michelle felt dizzy as the chair lift lowered her onto the driveway of her new home. She was familiar with her condition - complete C4 quadriplegic, paralyzed from her neck down - but the movement of the chair lift was a new sensation she wasnt' used to yet, and the sensation made her a little dizzy. She was grateful to be back on the ground. She watched from her power wheelchair as Derek made the adjustments necessary, and she took the mouth control between her lips and manipulated it to move her wheelchair forward and to the left, towards the new house. HER new house, she reminded herself. Perfectly adapted to a woman in her 'condition' - a helpless cripple, to be blunt.
The official reason for her disability was a broken neck due to a slip and fall down the basement stairs. And indeed, she HAD woken up at the bottom of the basement stairs, but that was only after her husband, Derek, had snapped her neck as they made love. It was all part of his 'plan', that she unwittingly assisted with, to make a small fortune using an insurance payout after her 'accident'. What she hadn't realized was that there was another layer to the plan, one that Derek hadn't mentioned, which used some choice investments to turn their half million dollar insurance payout into a multi-million dollar nestegg. By the time Michelle was finished with two and a half months of rehab at a VERY good rehab center, Derek had sold their old house and bought a beautiful new one in a very nice area of the state, and had it completely converted for wheelchair living. Michelle had seen pictures, of course, and seen Dereks' excitement, but even sitting in front of the beautiful, spacious home, she couldn't see it as anything more than a prison. Much like her wheelchair had become. Much like her body had become.
She had experienced this before, of course. Before her 'accident' - before Derek had crippled her. Derek had a fetish for helpless women, wheelchair bound women, and caring for them. Michelle had just wanted to quit her dead-end job and be taken care of. Derek proposed a compromise, where Michelle would 'pretend' to be disabled and he would care for her. They did it for an entire weekend, and it was wonderful, truly delightful for her. She had never felt so loved, so cared for, and the sex was amazing, totally amazing between them. Their little 'roleplay' had completely re-invograted their marriage. And then Derek broke her neck.
It had been hard to keep quiet at first. She was hurt, she was scared, and she had so many things going through her head. But Derek promised to take good care of her. Promised to make it right. It was when the pretty doctor with the long red hair and deep crimson nails sat beside her and told her that she was paralyzed, that she was a quadriplegic, how sorry she was, how Michelle could talk to a grief counsellor... Michelle realized that she really WAS crippled for the rest of her life, and that if she DID turn in Derek, she'd have no-one. She'd be helpless. And then what could she do?
So she kept up the story until she almost believed it, and Derek did make things better. He moved her to the best rehab center in the area, very high end. She had her own room and her own personal therapist that worked with her every day, mostly helping her get used to a life with no feeling below her neck, then moving into the few tasks she could still do. She had extensive training in the very expensive power wheelchair Derek had bought her, the mouth controls, using a mouth stick, and just living as a complete quadriplegic.
Derek visited every day, of course, and when they were alone told her how beautiful she was, how excited he was to take her home, how he would care for her. He brushed her hair once, as she sat in her wheelchair, and she had to admit, it was the most erotic hair brushing she had ever experienced, but she was still afraid. She was handicapped now, she couldn't even scratch her own nose, and she knew all the money in the world couldn't change that. But what else could she do?
Michelle wheeled over the wide paved walkway towards the front door. It opened for her automatically as she approaced, and she was able to easily maneuver her wheelchair into the house. It was large, beautifully decorated, and not nearly as 'adapted looking' as she expected. There were clearly some aspects of the design specifically for her - the wide doorways and extra space between things to allow her to maneuver easily. the bathroom was the most 'adapted', with a special shower and other modifications specific to her condition.
"How do you feel love? Do you like the place?" Michelle realized it was the first time Derek had spoken since they left the rehab center.
"I don't feel anything now, do I love?" she said, looking into his eyes. She could see his passion smolder behind those eyes. Could see his desire for her, deeper than she had ever seen it. Did she feel the same? Could she? It had been almost three months since they had made love, and the last time they made love he broke her neck. But she WANTED to feel it. Michelle WANTED to be the wife that Derek so deeply desired. She looked at him with a mixture of longing and sadness. "I want you." was all she said.
Derek didn't even bring her into the bedroom. They were in a spacious parlor, and Derek undressed and took her limp, curled hands out of her lap and began caressing himself with them. Michelle urged him on, telling him to do things with her body that she no longer could. He used her hands all over his body until she told him to use her feet, then he sat and lifted her dead legs. He took off the soft slippers she wore, then the tight white compression stockings, and she watched him using her floppy, limp feet, using them to play with his balls and shaft.
He was breathing heavy now, Michelle could tell he was close to orgasm. "I want you in my mouth." she said, her own authority surprising her. Derek complied, bringing himself up and allowing her to get his cock in her mouth. She used her lips and her tongue like she was driving her wheelchair, sucking him deeply. She wished she could play with his balls, but her hands just sat in her lap useless. She couldn't even shrug her shoulders. In the end, it didnt' matter. Derek came long and hard and shot his hot cum into her mouth. She lapped it up and didn't want to let go of his cock, still sucking and licking until he pulled gently away from her and collapsed onto the couch. Michelle looked at him and wanted more.
"You're going to have to give me a little time, love." he said breathlessly. "That was the most amzing head I've ever had - you're amazing."
"God Derek, I wasn't sure I could even GET aroused any more, after the accident..." she looked at him from her wheelchair. "But I'm so horny right now. Please honey, fuck me!"
"In your wheelchair?" he asked, amused and aroused.
"Yes, in my wheelchair, I don't care!" she said. "I'm so horny right now.."
Derek lifted her dead legs and spread them, then had a thought. He went into another room and came back out with a pink vibrator, one she used to love 'before'. He removed her catheter and slowly slipped the dildo into her as she watched. Michelle moaned as she saw it enter her, and watched as Derek fucked her numb, unfeeling sex. "Faster, oh god Derek please, I need it so bad!"
Derek fucked her faster, pumping the vibrator in and out of his wife's paralyzed pussy, and he felt himself growing more and more aroused. He took one hand and began strokign his cock with her limp foot as he fucked her, and she begged for more and more. Finally he unstrapped her from her wheelchair and layed her on the floor, spreading her legs and plunging his cock into her flaccid pussy.
It felt different, but incredible. Derek fucked his quadriplegic wife on the floor and Michelle cried out for it, she was desparate, she couldn't feel anything at all, but she was SO excited. As he came close to orgasm, he reached out and grabbed her hair, curling hins fingers in her soft flowing locks and pulling her hair gently.
Her body didn't move, didn't budge, but her screams and moans made is clear that Michelle was having an orgasm. As soon as Derek tugged on her hair, everything just came together and she FELT it - not like she ever had before, but she FELT such pleasure as she didn't think she'd be capable of ever again.
Both of them just lay there for a few minutes, Derek stroking Michelle's hair and Michelle moaning with more pleasure.
"I wasn't expecting that." Michelle said, still breathing heavy.
"Neither was I." Derek said. "You can't feel any of that, can you?"
"Not physically, no, but there was 'something'. I can't explain it. But I want to do it again!" Michelle said, staring at Derek from the floor.
"Let's get some dinner and then maybe we'll try again." Derek said, smiling. "We'll need to get you back in your wheelchair."
"And I want to wear something sexy." Michelle said. Derek smiled.
Michelle wheeled out of the bedroom and Derek wolf-whistled. She was in a black mini-skirt that showed her white diaper, thigh-high silk stockings on her limp legs, black ballet slippers on her soft feet, and a black bustier that boosted her now flaccid breasts and showed her nipples. She smiled as she saw Derek's sensual and hungry look, even though he had been the one to dress her.
The diapers were her idea, and Derek had gladly obliged. It was more work than the catheter, but she knew that's what Derek liked, taking care of her 'special needs', and she was pretty sure every time Derek was going to clean her and change her diaper, he'd be up for fucking her too.
Michelle wheeled into the dining room and parked at the chairless spot beside the large mahogany dining table. Derek brought in a steaming plate of pasta and chicken, then a salad, hot bread, and a bottle of wine.
Derek fed Michelle as she sat there in her power chair, just like that first 'date' they had, when she was pretending for him. It was even more lovely now, even sweeter since she knew there was no way for her to feed herself. There was a deep new connection building between herself and Derek with every bite of food he fed her, every sip of wine.
Derek stroked her hair and her face, but Michelle did start to notice that he seemed to be avoiding anything below her neck for some reason.
"Derek, play with my tits. They're right there in front of you." Michelle purred. She could tell from Derek's response that it took him off gaurd, he was both embarrased and aroused, conflicted over her condidion. "Come on husband - you're going to have to get used to 'the new me' - this IS what you wanted, isn't it?
Derek gave into his baser desires and started playing with her numb paralyzed breasts right there at the table. Michelle moaned as she watched him caress and squeeze her unfeeling nipples, wished she could move her hands to her sex, play with her clit - all things she'd never be able to so on her own again, and instead of feelign bitter, it enhanced her experience, it made her even more aroused. She was panting when Derek finally began to stroke her hair, and as he pulled her hair sharply on either side, she screamed in what was, to her, another amazing orgasm.
Derek pushed Michelle in her wheelchair to the living room and put on the TV. Michelle chose the show and Derek set the channel and the volume to her wishes. As she sat and watched, Derek moved her legs for her, scratched her ear, gave her drinks - anything she needed. Yes, she was numb from her chin down, she was completely helpless, she was wearing a diaper and sitting in an expensive wheelchair. Yes she would be crippled for the rest of her life. But in some crazy, insane way, she was happy - happier than she had ever been. Never again would she - or could she - lift a finger to to anything.
"You look horny, my husband." Michelle purred a little later, smiling at him from her wheelchair. "And my feet are just sitting there limply, not doing anything at all. Why don't you make them feel loved?" she giggled like a schoolgirl.
Derek smiled, then looked worried.
"What's wrong Derek?" Michelle asked.
"Michelle, I need to tell you something, and I don't know how you're going to take it. There's been, well... a change in plans." he said, not even meeting her eyes. Michelle's heart sank. She couldn't do this without him, wouldn't do it...
"Is it me... is it my, my disability?" she said, tears starting to well up...
"No!" Derek said quickly, holding Michelle's limp hand in his. she didn't even notice. "It's not that at all. It's work. I was supposed to be done by now, retired, so I could stay here and care for you, but..."
"You're still working?" Michelle said, confused. "But the money, the investments, you said in the hospital that we were set for life, that neither of us ever had to work again."
"And that's true, mostly - but I guess I was too successful, the investments I made did so well, the firm offered me a lot more money to stay around and wrap up some other packages for them. It will probably be another month, two at the most."
Michelle wasn't sure what to say, how to react. She imagined herself helpless, sitting alone in her wheelchair all day waiting for Derek to return. What if she had an itch, what if she were thirsty? The panic must have shown on her face, because Derek quickly reqassured her.
"No, I won't leave you alone love, not ever! But I've had to hir a nurse to stay with you when I'm not around. She'll be here in the morning and take care of all your needs. I know this wasn't the plan, and I really am sorry, love. Do you forgive me?"
Michelle was still afraid. Derek was one thing - but a complete stranger? Caring for her, changin her diaper, feeding her?
"I promise, it will be OK honey. I will never leave you, I promise."
Michelle smiled hesitantly. It wouldn't be that much different from the rehab hospital, and it was just while Derek was at work.
"It's only for a little while?" she asked
"A few months, tops. And you'll really like Melissa - she's the nurse. She's really nice."
"Ok. Well... " Michelle looked at Derek. "My poor limp feet are still lonely down there. Maybe you'd like to do something about that?"
Derek smiled and kissed her deeply, stroking and tugging at her hair before undressing and lifting her soft, limp feet off her footrests and slipping off her soft black slippers. Michelle felt aroused again, watching her husband take such pleasure in her condition, in her crippled feet. He stroked his cock with her lip stockinged feet first, his cock coming erect almost instantly. He slipped her stockings down and then took her bare, limp feet and masturbated as she sat there, always telling her how sexy she looked, how good she felt. He came with a load moan and hot, spurting cum that splashed all over Michelle's unfeeling feet.
"I want to taste it." she said, and he obliged, lifting one of her limp legs so that she could lick and kiss her own crippled foot, tasting his sweet cum. He let her leg flop back down in her legrest and again kissed her, his tongue deep and probing, his fingers running through hier hair. "Pull it, pull my hair." she whispered in between deep kisses, and he obliged, teasing a little bit at a time, tugging, pulling sensually, building her up until she also came, loudly moaning with pleasure as her body lay still and lifeless in her wheelchair.
"I think it's time for bed there darling." Derek finalyl said, and placed Michelle's mouth control between her lips. She wheeled to the bedroom and Derek lifted her limp body out of the chair and dressed her for bed, wearing a large overnight diaper and compression socks on her limp legs. He kissed her good night and curled up next to her while she lay awake, imagining what the rest of her life was going to be like.
Little did she know, she had no idea what life had in store..
Monday, June 1, 2009
Story - Laura
Laura By ParaGirl
Hi, my name is Laura, how are you? That's good. I'm glad
you came, I really need help, you see, I was in an accident two
years ago, and I'm paralyzed almost completely from the neck
down, I can't move. Oh, it's OK, I've gotten used to it, but I
still need help to do things, which is why I'm glad you came.
First, since I'm just lying here in bed, could you please
dress me? I'd like to go out today, and I' d like to look nice.
In the closet, the red dress, yes, that's it. And could you get
a bra and some stockings from that drawer there, yes, those are
nice. First the stockings, you'll have to lift my legs and
slide them on. Yes, like that, you have to hold my legs because
I have no feeling or control in them, they're totally flaccid.
Yes, They are smooth, I have a nurse come in twice a week to
shave them and other things. Even though I can't move, I'd
still like to look nice for people. There, the stockings look
nice. Yes, my legs are thin, from muscle atrophy, but they
still look OK. I used to dance a lot, and go biking, before my
accident, and my body still looks OK.
Now my bra. For this, lift me up into a sitting position.
Ooh, not so fast, you'll make me dizzy. There, now hold me, I
have no muscle control at all. OK, now lift my arms and put
them through the bra straps. My breasts are still large, and
still firm, even if I can't feel them at all. There, clasp the
bra in the back, yes, like that. Now for the dress.
If you notice, it's specially made for me. Lay me back
down, gently please. As you can see, the dress is open all the
way down the back. to put it on me, lift my arms, one at a
time, and place them in the sleeves. Thank you, yes I think it
is a very pretty dress, I had it made special. I think the low
neckline is especially nice. Now that I'm in it, here comes the
awkward part. The zipper starts at the top, there. Now, sit me
back up and zip it down as far as you can. I can't feel
anything at all, but I'm sure it's right. Now lay me back down.
OK, to zip the rest, roll me sideways, gently. No, I don't
mind, just do it gently. Yes, that's fine. Now you can zip me
up. Done? OK, roll me back.
Now that I'm dressed, could you put me into my wheelchair?
It isn't hard really. first bring the chair up close to the bed
and drop the side rail facing the bed. Yes it is a nice chair,
and light, too, for a powered chair. Yes, the control is on the
handrest, I'll explain that in a minute, after you put me into
it. Ok, now sit me up again. There, that's good. Slide my
legs off the bed. Good. Now slide me over, into the chair, and
fasten the belt. Yes, I need a seat belt to hold me into my
chair, with no control at all, I could just slide out. OK, now
push up the side rail, good. Now place my legs in the legrests,
and try to make them look straight. I can't move them, and I
hate for them to look twisted and crippled, even though they
are. OK, next we finish dressing me.
I need shoes to go out. Those red hoes there, with the
straps, put those on me. Yes, make sure the staps are held
firmly, I don't want my shoes falling off at the store! Now,
you see the small gold chain on the dresser, with the little
ruby pendant? Put that around my neck, there, that's nice. Now
for the last thing, and the answer to your earlier question. Do
you see a nylon wrist brace on the table there. Yes, put it on
my right hand, like that. Ok, good. You see, I'm not totally
paralyzed, I've regained partial movement in my left arm and
hand, at least enough to drive my chair. The brace is just
because I still really can't control my hand enough to grip the
control stick, so it kind of does it for me. Now can you just
put my other hand in my lap. There, it's totally dead, I can't
move it at all, so it just lays there demurely in my lap. Now
to the bathroom to beautify myself.
Oh my hair looks awful! Could you brush it for me? There,
brush it gently, I can actually feel my head! I used to love my
long brown hair, but I keep it shoulder length now, to keep it
more manageable. It's not like I can just brush it out of my
eyes! There, that looks good. Now for lipstick, I think that
coral color there is fine. Perfect! And could you spray a
little of that perfume onto my neck? Ah, that smells nice,
thank you. Now, before I go out, I'm hungry!
The kitchen. I used to be quite a cook you know. Before
this. Now I need to be fed, but you don't mind, do you? I'd
like some apple juice, and a bowl of soup. The soup is already
made, in the fridge, just microwave it for a minute. Pour the
apple juice into a cup and put a straw in it, the straws are
right over there by the cookie jar. Now just put the straw into
my mouth. Mmm, that's good. More please. Mmm, I love apple
juice. The soups' done. Can you feed it to me? Thank you so
much. Just blow on it a little and spoon it into my mouth.
Mmm, perfect, Chicken noodle, my favorite. Could I have a
cracker too, they're in that cupboard there, above the stove.
Yes, saltines are fine. Just break them in half and feed them
to me. It's so embarrassing, me a twenty year old being fed
crackers and soup, but since my accident, I've had to adjust to
being a complete invalid. More apple juice please. I don't eat
much, because I really can't burn calories, and I do try to stay
in shape. I may be a total cripple, but I still like to look
nice. Ok, I'm done with lunch, so let's go out. Follow me, we
can take my van.
Just open the side door of the van. Now, hit the green
switch that says down. The lift will do the rest. It takes a
minute or two. What? What was it like to wake up after the
accident? It was very scary. I remembered the accident, and
being hit, and I knew I was hurt, but I didn't feel any pain.
Then I realized I didn't feel anything from the neck down. My
whole body just didn't seem to be there. Then the doctor came
in, and when he said that one word- Quadriplegic- I started to
cry. I just couldn't believe that my whole body was dead,
useless to me now. I tried and tried just to sit up, but I
couldn't move at all. I couldn't even move my head, because
they still had me in a neck brace. My legs were in casts,
because the were both broken in the crash, and for the first
four months out of the hospital I was completely crippled, both
my legs in full casts sticking straight out in front of me, and
at first I had a wheelchair with a mouth control I had to learn
to use, because I didn't have enough control of my left hand
yet. I cried every day, sometimes refusing to get out of bed at
the rehab center I was in. That was when I met Audrey. She was
my age, 18, and had been in an accident on a motorcycle eight
months before. She had lost both her arms at the elbow, and
both her legs just below the crotch, too short for even a
prosthetic. She was even worse off than me, but she was so
nice, and so full of life! She convinced me to start living
again. I can remember when she finally got her prosthetic arms,
she cried with joy, because she could finally control her own
wheelchair. (until then she had been pushed by an orderly.) I
remember looking at her, fiberglass arms and little stumps for
legs, sitting in her wheelchair doing circles in the main rec
room, and I looked down at my own crippled legs, still in casts
straight out before me, and my hands, laying useless in my lap,
and deciding that if this girl, who had lost all her limbs,
could be so happy, than I could too. Audrey and I went shopping
together sometimes, Oh what a sight that made!! Two young girls
in motorized wheelchairs, one with no legs and prosthetic arms,
and the other a quadriplegic wearing stockings and high heeled
shoes in a miniskirt. You see, it was Audrey who always said I
should look my best, no matter what. In the rehab center I'd
wear sweatpants, because they could fit over my casts, and big
shirts, because they were easier for people to put on me. Also,
I didn't want to see my body, because it was so crippled. It
still looked the same, but that didn't matter to me. Audrey
changed all that, thank god. Here's the lift. Now when I'm on
it, hit the other green button, the one that says 'up'.
Now that I'm in the van, can you lock my wheels to the
floor with those straps there. Good. Make sure there tight. Do
you like my van? I figured what the heck, I'll never drive
again, but why not have a nice cruiser for whoever is helping me.
There, let's go shopping. Anyway, where was I in my story. Oh
yes, Audrey and I shopping together.
You see, at the center, after we had progressed well, they
let us go out, with assistants, and get back into society. The
first time Audrey and I went out, we went to a large shopping
center, totally wheelchair accessible. Well, I had decided to
dress up really nice, and I was getting over all that had
happened, so I had them dress me in a nice knee-length skirt, a
light blouse, stockings and high-heeled shoes. You may ask why
high-heels, but even though I'll never walk or move my legs or
feet again, I still like nice shoes. Anyway, this was the first
time I'd worn anything but sneakers, and I wasn't very
experienced with life outside the center. About an hour into
our day, I rolled over a doorjam, one of the low ones sliding
doors ride on, so it was more of a speedbump. Unfortunately,
the bump jarred one of my legs a bit, and that nice high heel
fell off! I didn't know, because naturally I couldn't feel it,
but Audrey, who was behind me, called out and told me I'd
dropped something. When I turned around, she was holding my
shoe in one of her prosthetic hooks! I laughed, but I was
embarrassed, too. I looked down at my legs and saw the one was
hanging at an odd angle and barefoot, and that's when I really
realized my situation. I couldn't feel my legs, couldn't move
my legs, they might as well have not been there. I started to
cry a little, and Audrey wheeled over and gave me a big hug,
then she tried to put my shoe back on. (the assistant with us
was in a store) She couldn't manipulate the dead weight of my
leg with her hooks, and couldn't get the shoe back on, so she
did the next best thing- She pulled my other shoe off! So there
I was, with no shoes on, and I looked down at my crippled,
stockinged feet, now both hanging at odd angles, and started to
laugh. Later on the assistant came back and put my shoes back
on and straightened my legs for me, but I just kept laughing.
She couldn't figure out what was so funny! Well, we're here,
just park up front, I've got handicapped plates, of course.
Now, before I get out of the van, could you fix my legs,
one of them fell off the footrest when we hit a bump, and it's
just hanging there. Yes, that's great. Now, lets' go shopping!
Hi, my name is Laura, how are you? That's good. I'm glad
you came, I really need help, you see, I was in an accident two
years ago, and I'm paralyzed almost completely from the neck
down, I can't move. Oh, it's OK, I've gotten used to it, but I
still need help to do things, which is why I'm glad you came.
First, since I'm just lying here in bed, could you please
dress me? I'd like to go out today, and I' d like to look nice.
In the closet, the red dress, yes, that's it. And could you get
a bra and some stockings from that drawer there, yes, those are
nice. First the stockings, you'll have to lift my legs and
slide them on. Yes, like that, you have to hold my legs because
I have no feeling or control in them, they're totally flaccid.
Yes, They are smooth, I have a nurse come in twice a week to
shave them and other things. Even though I can't move, I'd
still like to look nice for people. There, the stockings look
nice. Yes, my legs are thin, from muscle atrophy, but they
still look OK. I used to dance a lot, and go biking, before my
accident, and my body still looks OK.
Now my bra. For this, lift me up into a sitting position.
Ooh, not so fast, you'll make me dizzy. There, now hold me, I
have no muscle control at all. OK, now lift my arms and put
them through the bra straps. My breasts are still large, and
still firm, even if I can't feel them at all. There, clasp the
bra in the back, yes, like that. Now for the dress.
If you notice, it's specially made for me. Lay me back
down, gently please. As you can see, the dress is open all the
way down the back. to put it on me, lift my arms, one at a
time, and place them in the sleeves. Thank you, yes I think it
is a very pretty dress, I had it made special. I think the low
neckline is especially nice. Now that I'm in it, here comes the
awkward part. The zipper starts at the top, there. Now, sit me
back up and zip it down as far as you can. I can't feel
anything at all, but I'm sure it's right. Now lay me back down.
OK, to zip the rest, roll me sideways, gently. No, I don't
mind, just do it gently. Yes, that's fine. Now you can zip me
up. Done? OK, roll me back.
Now that I'm dressed, could you put me into my wheelchair?
It isn't hard really. first bring the chair up close to the bed
and drop the side rail facing the bed. Yes it is a nice chair,
and light, too, for a powered chair. Yes, the control is on the
handrest, I'll explain that in a minute, after you put me into
it. Ok, now sit me up again. There, that's good. Slide my
legs off the bed. Good. Now slide me over, into the chair, and
fasten the belt. Yes, I need a seat belt to hold me into my
chair, with no control at all, I could just slide out. OK, now
push up the side rail, good. Now place my legs in the legrests,
and try to make them look straight. I can't move them, and I
hate for them to look twisted and crippled, even though they
are. OK, next we finish dressing me.
I need shoes to go out. Those red hoes there, with the
straps, put those on me. Yes, make sure the staps are held
firmly, I don't want my shoes falling off at the store! Now,
you see the small gold chain on the dresser, with the little
ruby pendant? Put that around my neck, there, that's nice. Now
for the last thing, and the answer to your earlier question. Do
you see a nylon wrist brace on the table there. Yes, put it on
my right hand, like that. Ok, good. You see, I'm not totally
paralyzed, I've regained partial movement in my left arm and
hand, at least enough to drive my chair. The brace is just
because I still really can't control my hand enough to grip the
control stick, so it kind of does it for me. Now can you just
put my other hand in my lap. There, it's totally dead, I can't
move it at all, so it just lays there demurely in my lap. Now
to the bathroom to beautify myself.
Oh my hair looks awful! Could you brush it for me? There,
brush it gently, I can actually feel my head! I used to love my
long brown hair, but I keep it shoulder length now, to keep it
more manageable. It's not like I can just brush it out of my
eyes! There, that looks good. Now for lipstick, I think that
coral color there is fine. Perfect! And could you spray a
little of that perfume onto my neck? Ah, that smells nice,
thank you. Now, before I go out, I'm hungry!
The kitchen. I used to be quite a cook you know. Before
this. Now I need to be fed, but you don't mind, do you? I'd
like some apple juice, and a bowl of soup. The soup is already
made, in the fridge, just microwave it for a minute. Pour the
apple juice into a cup and put a straw in it, the straws are
right over there by the cookie jar. Now just put the straw into
my mouth. Mmm, that's good. More please. Mmm, I love apple
juice. The soups' done. Can you feed it to me? Thank you so
much. Just blow on it a little and spoon it into my mouth.
Mmm, perfect, Chicken noodle, my favorite. Could I have a
cracker too, they're in that cupboard there, above the stove.
Yes, saltines are fine. Just break them in half and feed them
to me. It's so embarrassing, me a twenty year old being fed
crackers and soup, but since my accident, I've had to adjust to
being a complete invalid. More apple juice please. I don't eat
much, because I really can't burn calories, and I do try to stay
in shape. I may be a total cripple, but I still like to look
nice. Ok, I'm done with lunch, so let's go out. Follow me, we
can take my van.
Just open the side door of the van. Now, hit the green
switch that says down. The lift will do the rest. It takes a
minute or two. What? What was it like to wake up after the
accident? It was very scary. I remembered the accident, and
being hit, and I knew I was hurt, but I didn't feel any pain.
Then I realized I didn't feel anything from the neck down. My
whole body just didn't seem to be there. Then the doctor came
in, and when he said that one word- Quadriplegic- I started to
cry. I just couldn't believe that my whole body was dead,
useless to me now. I tried and tried just to sit up, but I
couldn't move at all. I couldn't even move my head, because
they still had me in a neck brace. My legs were in casts,
because the were both broken in the crash, and for the first
four months out of the hospital I was completely crippled, both
my legs in full casts sticking straight out in front of me, and
at first I had a wheelchair with a mouth control I had to learn
to use, because I didn't have enough control of my left hand
yet. I cried every day, sometimes refusing to get out of bed at
the rehab center I was in. That was when I met Audrey. She was
my age, 18, and had been in an accident on a motorcycle eight
months before. She had lost both her arms at the elbow, and
both her legs just below the crotch, too short for even a
prosthetic. She was even worse off than me, but she was so
nice, and so full of life! She convinced me to start living
again. I can remember when she finally got her prosthetic arms,
she cried with joy, because she could finally control her own
wheelchair. (until then she had been pushed by an orderly.) I
remember looking at her, fiberglass arms and little stumps for
legs, sitting in her wheelchair doing circles in the main rec
room, and I looked down at my own crippled legs, still in casts
straight out before me, and my hands, laying useless in my lap,
and deciding that if this girl, who had lost all her limbs,
could be so happy, than I could too. Audrey and I went shopping
together sometimes, Oh what a sight that made!! Two young girls
in motorized wheelchairs, one with no legs and prosthetic arms,
and the other a quadriplegic wearing stockings and high heeled
shoes in a miniskirt. You see, it was Audrey who always said I
should look my best, no matter what. In the rehab center I'd
wear sweatpants, because they could fit over my casts, and big
shirts, because they were easier for people to put on me. Also,
I didn't want to see my body, because it was so crippled. It
still looked the same, but that didn't matter to me. Audrey
changed all that, thank god. Here's the lift. Now when I'm on
it, hit the other green button, the one that says 'up'.
Now that I'm in the van, can you lock my wheels to the
floor with those straps there. Good. Make sure there tight. Do
you like my van? I figured what the heck, I'll never drive
again, but why not have a nice cruiser for whoever is helping me.
There, let's go shopping. Anyway, where was I in my story. Oh
yes, Audrey and I shopping together.
You see, at the center, after we had progressed well, they
let us go out, with assistants, and get back into society. The
first time Audrey and I went out, we went to a large shopping
center, totally wheelchair accessible. Well, I had decided to
dress up really nice, and I was getting over all that had
happened, so I had them dress me in a nice knee-length skirt, a
light blouse, stockings and high-heeled shoes. You may ask why
high-heels, but even though I'll never walk or move my legs or
feet again, I still like nice shoes. Anyway, this was the first
time I'd worn anything but sneakers, and I wasn't very
experienced with life outside the center. About an hour into
our day, I rolled over a doorjam, one of the low ones sliding
doors ride on, so it was more of a speedbump. Unfortunately,
the bump jarred one of my legs a bit, and that nice high heel
fell off! I didn't know, because naturally I couldn't feel it,
but Audrey, who was behind me, called out and told me I'd
dropped something. When I turned around, she was holding my
shoe in one of her prosthetic hooks! I laughed, but I was
embarrassed, too. I looked down at my legs and saw the one was
hanging at an odd angle and barefoot, and that's when I really
realized my situation. I couldn't feel my legs, couldn't move
my legs, they might as well have not been there. I started to
cry a little, and Audrey wheeled over and gave me a big hug,
then she tried to put my shoe back on. (the assistant with us
was in a store) She couldn't manipulate the dead weight of my
leg with her hooks, and couldn't get the shoe back on, so she
did the next best thing- She pulled my other shoe off! So there
I was, with no shoes on, and I looked down at my crippled,
stockinged feet, now both hanging at odd angles, and started to
laugh. Later on the assistant came back and put my shoes back
on and straightened my legs for me, but I just kept laughing.
She couldn't figure out what was so funny! Well, we're here,
just park up front, I've got handicapped plates, of course.
Now, before I get out of the van, could you fix my legs,
one of them fell off the footrest when we hit a bump, and it's
just hanging there. Yes, that's great. Now, lets' go shopping!
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Story - Life Changes
Life Changes By ParaGirl
Tina had been up with her ankles aching and feeling strange. She shrugged it off to overtraining on the track and did some stretches each morning, and she was usually OK, but she was getting concerned. Her feet and ankles felt strange lately, she had some bouts of numbness, and she noticed herself getting clumsy sometimes. She really began to get concerned as her track times started going up, though she was running as hard and as fast as she could. She talked to her coach about her concerns, and she sent Tina to the school nurse, who poked and prodded a little and recommended aspirin and a break from track. She said it was strained muscles, and to rest for a while. Tina was somewhat relieved, though she felt bad about missing track, and took the advice.
Even though Tina rested for a week, taking aspirin and keeping her activity to a minimum, her ankles got worse. They didnt hurt, exactly, but they just didnt seem to be working right. It was a Thursday morning, and as she got up to get out of bed, her feet just turned in at the ankles and she fell. Her mother took her to the hospital that morning, and after a battery of tests, her doctor came in to talk to Tina.
Hello again Tina. We have the test results back, and Im afraid they have confirmed my suspicion. You are in the early stages of Multiple Sclerosis. Tina, Multiple Sclerosis is a disease of the Central Nervous System, your brain and spinal cord. In a person with MS, the insulation surrounding the nerves, called myelin, is damaged or destroyed. When this occurs, messages from your brain are lost or interrupted. There are various symptoms you may experience with MS -- vision loss, double/blurred vision, numbness, coordination problems, balance problems, etc, but many people with MS, with proper treatment, are able to live full and healthy lives.
Will I get better? Tina asked, obviously afraid of the diagnosis.
Well, currently there is no cure, but were hopeful that there will be a cure soon, were getting closer to it every day.
But what about my ankles? She asked, looking up from the hospital wheelchair she had been in since she had gotten there. Her ankles were very weak now and it was very difficult for her to walk.
Your ankles seem to have been affected most, and at this time it appears to be irreversible. I will make an appointment with you in our orthopaedics department right now, and you can be fitted with a pair of braces to help stabilize your ankles.
Braces? Ill need crutches and braces? Tina was almost hysterical at the thought.
No, Tina, no crutches, at least not now. They will give you shoe inserts that reach to just below yoru knee that help stabilize your ankles. They will barely be noticeable, and for now you wont even need crutches.
For now? Tina asked.
In many people, MS is a progressive disease. It may not, but chances your ankles, or even legs, will get worse, forcing you to use crutches, possible longer braces. I wont lie to you, Tina- there is a chance you could end up in a wheelchair. I know this is a lot for a young girl to take in, but its not all gloom- there are millions of people who live very normal, successful daily lives with MS. Even famous people, like Michael J. Fox, have MS. My suggestion to you is to follow the treatment plan Ill outline for you, do exercises that dont raise your body temperature, eat properly, and live as normal a life as possible.
Tina was wheeled to orthopaedics, where a very nice woman who introduced herself as Dr. Sadler helped her onto the examining table. She looked over some charts, explained the measurements she was taking, explained how Tinas braces would help her walk better, and just made Tina feel better. She finally brought out a pair of plastic braces that were much smaller than Tina had originally imagined they would be. They were a white plastic, with a wide velcro strap that would fit around her shin, just below her knee. Dr. Sadler put them on Tinas feet and Tian put her sneakers back on over them. They were tight- Dr. Sadler said she might want to go up a half size when buying new shoes. Tina carefully stood up and Dr. Sadler helped her take a step- she was fine, the support of the braces almost totally counteracted the effects of the MS. Tina walked around the room a few times to get used to the new sensation of the braces, but aside from a slightly clumsy looking gait, she could walk better than she had in a week. She left the hospital with a much brighter outlook for the future.
School wasnt as difficult as Tina had thought. She was still a member of the track team- honorary anyway- and still stayed late with the team doing stretching, though she avoided any rigorous excercise as her doctor had recommended. She got some looks because of the way she walked in the braces- a bit stiff and kind of clumsy- and she got a lot of looks when she walked out onto the track field in shorts, her AFO braces out in the open. Most of the reaction from her friends and peers was very positive, though there were people who werent sure what to do or say around her. She took it all in stride, but the fear of her condition getting worse was always in the back of her mind.
Tinas fears began to come true in the middle of the school year, just after the holidays. She found that, even in the braces, her gait was getting worse, her toes turning inward sharply, and she was losing sensation in her feet, she could no longer feel her toes or the soles of her feet. When she went in for a check-up in February, her doctor saw her gait and became very concerned. He did a few more tests, mostly reflexive tests on Tinas legs.
Tina, as Im sure you know, your condition is getting worse. You have a 40 percent loss of sensation in your left foot, a 35 percent loss in your right foot, and your muscles are beginning to show signs of contraction and atrophy. Fortunately most of the effect is still concentrated in the nerve bundle for the lower legs, thats very good actually. You can still stay in the smaller AFO braces, but youre going to have to start using crutches, and Im going to get you into a physical therapy program three days a week, to help stop the damage to your feet from progressing.
Tina had expected as much, and had been contemplating crutches herself as it got more and more strenuous to walk straight. One thing her doctor said did bother her, though.
Doctor, she asked, What did you mean when you said most of the effect is in my lower legs?
Tina, these last tests show that there is some effect- very little, I must say- in your knees and upper thighs. You obviously dont even notice it, which shows how minor it is. We will keep an eye on it, but for now I wouldnt worry. Youre doing very well with your diet and exercise.
Tina left the hospital on a pair of aluminium forearm crutches, and she had to admit that walking was much easier for her using them. She could tell her mother was bothered by them, though she didnt say anything about them. The AFOs could be ignored easily enough, but to see her daughter walk in on cripple crutches somehow confirmed Tinas disability.
Tina saw more stares at school, and more people uncomfortable around her, but overall her experience didnt change much once she was on the crutches. Carrying her books became impossible, so she got a backpack to carry everything in. She no longer went out with the track team, because three days a week she left school early and went to Physical Therapy at the local rehab center. She had massage therapy on her feet, hydrotherapy in a very warm whirlpool tub, and several other types of therapy on her feet and legs. She was gaining a lot of upper body strength due to all the crutch walking, too. Though the therapy wasnt helping her regain much use of her feet, she thought it was helping the rest of her legs stay strong so she could stay out of a wheelchair. It wasnt until almost six months later that she noticed a problem with her knees.
Im afraid its still progressing Tina. Its slow, but its fairly steady in its progression. The feeling in your knees will progress to the point where your ankles are at- you already have a significant loss of motor function in your left knee, which Im sure you already know. Walking in your current braces will continue to get more difficult for you- I would guess that youll be able to use them for another month, maybe two. Fortunately you can be fitted with full leg braces, they should keep you on your feet for a long time, maybe indefinitely, depending on the MS.
By this time, Tina had read up on everything she could find on MS. She knew the Doctor was being optimistic for her, but that he could be right, her legs could stop getting better tomorrow. She could also wake up blind one morning, too- the symptoms of MS were random, at best. She was fitted for a set of full metal leg braces, knowing the day would come sooner or later when she would need them.
Dr. Sadler showed Tina how to put on her leg braces. They were long and not quite as heavy as Tina thought they would be. She slipped her feet into the shoes- she had to help her feet a lot now, she had very little feeling or motor control left in them. Dr. Sadler showed her how to buckle all the straps that encased her legs, how to lock and unlock the knee locks. Tina had to actually learn how to walk on the large new KAFO braces, first practicing on parallel bars, then with her crutches. It was difficult, but Tina got the hang of swinging her legs through the supports of the crutches, making sure her heels and feet landed together and evenly. School wasnt in session, but it was less than two weeks before her senior year started. She found herself looking at college brochures, noticing things like wheelchair accessibility more than athletic programs. She was hopeful that her condition would stop with her legs as they were now, but something inside her told her otherwise.
Tinas senior year was eventful, to say the least. She started dating, a guy who didnt mind the braces at all, and when she told him the truth, about how she would probably get worse, he was genuinely OK with that. She was accepted to a good state college in the program she wanted, journalism, and she gave a talk on MS to the whole school, inviting guest speakers in to talk about the disease and the search for a cure. The high point of the presentation was when their state Senator came up the podium to talk about state programs to support help research for MS. He admitted that he, too, was diagnosed with MS when he was twenty years old, and he had obviously lived a very full and successful life in spite of the disease. It had affected his hearing to a degree, apparently, and one of his hands didnt work well, but he had lived a long time with the disease and still become a senator. Tina received a standing ovation for her presentation, and they did a story in the newspaper about the whole thing, with Tina on the front page in her braces and on crutches.
Tina didnt even notice the next problems until they were very obvious. She got up one Saturday morning and began putting her leg braces on, first slipping her feet into the sneakers that were attached to them. It took her two tries to tie her shoe, and she had trouble with every buckle on the braces, her hands not cooperating with the leather bands. She froze, thinking back over the last week or so, realizing that she had been having problems with her hands she hadnt even noticed, or had purposely ignored. A trip to the doctor confirmed what she feared- the MS was affecting her hands and arms, too, more quickly than it had effected her legs. For the first time, Tina was looking at a wheelchair and thinking the word confinement.
She was still able to use her crutches, but started using a wheelchair at home to rest her arms, which were getting tired more easily. It soon got to the point where her mother had to help her put her braces on and take them off, and after a few months she began to forgo the leg braces entirely, using the wheelchair full time. The last time she put her leg braces on was for her high school graduation- she wanted so much to walk up and receive her diploma, and she was able to, just barely, crutch up to the principal and take the rolled piece of paper, waving it over her head triumphantly before crutching slowly back down to her wheelchair.
College life in a wheelchair wasnt that bad- the campus was very well accessible, and there were many disabled people on campus, both student and staff. One of her own teachers was an arm amputee, and he pointed to people with his shiny chrome hook all the time. She continued a physical therapy program every other day, mostly for arm strengthening now, as her legs were very bed. Out of her braces, Tinas legs were thin, she could barely move them at all any more. Her toes curled in and her feet pointed inward naturally, making it difficult to adjust them well in her wheelchair, and it was almost impossible to cross them any more. She kept with the manual wheelchair for her entire freshman and part of her sophomore year, but as she asked for a helping push more and more, as her arms got weaker and the pushing of her wheelchair got more difficult, she knew she had to make a choice.
Her new wheelchair was red, a motorized model with a simple joystick mechanism for driving it. It became much easier for Tina to get around the campus in it, but it also separated her more from other people. A woman in such a wheelchair was obviously very disabled, and not many people knew what to do around Tina any more. Her real friends stayed by her and helped her through the tough times she had, and she again adapted to life with MS. She finished school with honors, getting her degree in Journalism and getting a job with a major metropolitan newspaper.
Tina married her college boyfriend, who had helped her so much during her toughest times. After college, her MS seemed to stop progressing, and though her arms were weak and she still needed her power wheelchair, she never got any worse. She started a family, won several journalism awards, and eventually wrote a book about her struggles with MS.
The End
Tina had been up with her ankles aching and feeling strange. She shrugged it off to overtraining on the track and did some stretches each morning, and she was usually OK, but she was getting concerned. Her feet and ankles felt strange lately, she had some bouts of numbness, and she noticed herself getting clumsy sometimes. She really began to get concerned as her track times started going up, though she was running as hard and as fast as she could. She talked to her coach about her concerns, and she sent Tina to the school nurse, who poked and prodded a little and recommended aspirin and a break from track. She said it was strained muscles, and to rest for a while. Tina was somewhat relieved, though she felt bad about missing track, and took the advice.
Even though Tina rested for a week, taking aspirin and keeping her activity to a minimum, her ankles got worse. They didnt hurt, exactly, but they just didnt seem to be working right. It was a Thursday morning, and as she got up to get out of bed, her feet just turned in at the ankles and she fell. Her mother took her to the hospital that morning, and after a battery of tests, her doctor came in to talk to Tina.
Hello again Tina. We have the test results back, and Im afraid they have confirmed my suspicion. You are in the early stages of Multiple Sclerosis. Tina, Multiple Sclerosis is a disease of the Central Nervous System, your brain and spinal cord. In a person with MS, the insulation surrounding the nerves, called myelin, is damaged or destroyed. When this occurs, messages from your brain are lost or interrupted. There are various symptoms you may experience with MS -- vision loss, double/blurred vision, numbness, coordination problems, balance problems, etc, but many people with MS, with proper treatment, are able to live full and healthy lives.
Will I get better? Tina asked, obviously afraid of the diagnosis.
Well, currently there is no cure, but were hopeful that there will be a cure soon, were getting closer to it every day.
But what about my ankles? She asked, looking up from the hospital wheelchair she had been in since she had gotten there. Her ankles were very weak now and it was very difficult for her to walk.
Your ankles seem to have been affected most, and at this time it appears to be irreversible. I will make an appointment with you in our orthopaedics department right now, and you can be fitted with a pair of braces to help stabilize your ankles.
Braces? Ill need crutches and braces? Tina was almost hysterical at the thought.
No, Tina, no crutches, at least not now. They will give you shoe inserts that reach to just below yoru knee that help stabilize your ankles. They will barely be noticeable, and for now you wont even need crutches.
For now? Tina asked.
In many people, MS is a progressive disease. It may not, but chances your ankles, or even legs, will get worse, forcing you to use crutches, possible longer braces. I wont lie to you, Tina- there is a chance you could end up in a wheelchair. I know this is a lot for a young girl to take in, but its not all gloom- there are millions of people who live very normal, successful daily lives with MS. Even famous people, like Michael J. Fox, have MS. My suggestion to you is to follow the treatment plan Ill outline for you, do exercises that dont raise your body temperature, eat properly, and live as normal a life as possible.
Tina was wheeled to orthopaedics, where a very nice woman who introduced herself as Dr. Sadler helped her onto the examining table. She looked over some charts, explained the measurements she was taking, explained how Tinas braces would help her walk better, and just made Tina feel better. She finally brought out a pair of plastic braces that were much smaller than Tina had originally imagined they would be. They were a white plastic, with a wide velcro strap that would fit around her shin, just below her knee. Dr. Sadler put them on Tinas feet and Tian put her sneakers back on over them. They were tight- Dr. Sadler said she might want to go up a half size when buying new shoes. Tina carefully stood up and Dr. Sadler helped her take a step- she was fine, the support of the braces almost totally counteracted the effects of the MS. Tina walked around the room a few times to get used to the new sensation of the braces, but aside from a slightly clumsy looking gait, she could walk better than she had in a week. She left the hospital with a much brighter outlook for the future.
School wasnt as difficult as Tina had thought. She was still a member of the track team- honorary anyway- and still stayed late with the team doing stretching, though she avoided any rigorous excercise as her doctor had recommended. She got some looks because of the way she walked in the braces- a bit stiff and kind of clumsy- and she got a lot of looks when she walked out onto the track field in shorts, her AFO braces out in the open. Most of the reaction from her friends and peers was very positive, though there were people who werent sure what to do or say around her. She took it all in stride, but the fear of her condition getting worse was always in the back of her mind.
Tinas fears began to come true in the middle of the school year, just after the holidays. She found that, even in the braces, her gait was getting worse, her toes turning inward sharply, and she was losing sensation in her feet, she could no longer feel her toes or the soles of her feet. When she went in for a check-up in February, her doctor saw her gait and became very concerned. He did a few more tests, mostly reflexive tests on Tinas legs.
Tina, as Im sure you know, your condition is getting worse. You have a 40 percent loss of sensation in your left foot, a 35 percent loss in your right foot, and your muscles are beginning to show signs of contraction and atrophy. Fortunately most of the effect is still concentrated in the nerve bundle for the lower legs, thats very good actually. You can still stay in the smaller AFO braces, but youre going to have to start using crutches, and Im going to get you into a physical therapy program three days a week, to help stop the damage to your feet from progressing.
Tina had expected as much, and had been contemplating crutches herself as it got more and more strenuous to walk straight. One thing her doctor said did bother her, though.
Doctor, she asked, What did you mean when you said most of the effect is in my lower legs?
Tina, these last tests show that there is some effect- very little, I must say- in your knees and upper thighs. You obviously dont even notice it, which shows how minor it is. We will keep an eye on it, but for now I wouldnt worry. Youre doing very well with your diet and exercise.
Tina left the hospital on a pair of aluminium forearm crutches, and she had to admit that walking was much easier for her using them. She could tell her mother was bothered by them, though she didnt say anything about them. The AFOs could be ignored easily enough, but to see her daughter walk in on cripple crutches somehow confirmed Tinas disability.
Tina saw more stares at school, and more people uncomfortable around her, but overall her experience didnt change much once she was on the crutches. Carrying her books became impossible, so she got a backpack to carry everything in. She no longer went out with the track team, because three days a week she left school early and went to Physical Therapy at the local rehab center. She had massage therapy on her feet, hydrotherapy in a very warm whirlpool tub, and several other types of therapy on her feet and legs. She was gaining a lot of upper body strength due to all the crutch walking, too. Though the therapy wasnt helping her regain much use of her feet, she thought it was helping the rest of her legs stay strong so she could stay out of a wheelchair. It wasnt until almost six months later that she noticed a problem with her knees.
Im afraid its still progressing Tina. Its slow, but its fairly steady in its progression. The feeling in your knees will progress to the point where your ankles are at- you already have a significant loss of motor function in your left knee, which Im sure you already know. Walking in your current braces will continue to get more difficult for you- I would guess that youll be able to use them for another month, maybe two. Fortunately you can be fitted with full leg braces, they should keep you on your feet for a long time, maybe indefinitely, depending on the MS.
By this time, Tina had read up on everything she could find on MS. She knew the Doctor was being optimistic for her, but that he could be right, her legs could stop getting better tomorrow. She could also wake up blind one morning, too- the symptoms of MS were random, at best. She was fitted for a set of full metal leg braces, knowing the day would come sooner or later when she would need them.
Dr. Sadler showed Tina how to put on her leg braces. They were long and not quite as heavy as Tina thought they would be. She slipped her feet into the shoes- she had to help her feet a lot now, she had very little feeling or motor control left in them. Dr. Sadler showed her how to buckle all the straps that encased her legs, how to lock and unlock the knee locks. Tina had to actually learn how to walk on the large new KAFO braces, first practicing on parallel bars, then with her crutches. It was difficult, but Tina got the hang of swinging her legs through the supports of the crutches, making sure her heels and feet landed together and evenly. School wasnt in session, but it was less than two weeks before her senior year started. She found herself looking at college brochures, noticing things like wheelchair accessibility more than athletic programs. She was hopeful that her condition would stop with her legs as they were now, but something inside her told her otherwise.
Tinas senior year was eventful, to say the least. She started dating, a guy who didnt mind the braces at all, and when she told him the truth, about how she would probably get worse, he was genuinely OK with that. She was accepted to a good state college in the program she wanted, journalism, and she gave a talk on MS to the whole school, inviting guest speakers in to talk about the disease and the search for a cure. The high point of the presentation was when their state Senator came up the podium to talk about state programs to support help research for MS. He admitted that he, too, was diagnosed with MS when he was twenty years old, and he had obviously lived a very full and successful life in spite of the disease. It had affected his hearing to a degree, apparently, and one of his hands didnt work well, but he had lived a long time with the disease and still become a senator. Tina received a standing ovation for her presentation, and they did a story in the newspaper about the whole thing, with Tina on the front page in her braces and on crutches.
Tina didnt even notice the next problems until they were very obvious. She got up one Saturday morning and began putting her leg braces on, first slipping her feet into the sneakers that were attached to them. It took her two tries to tie her shoe, and she had trouble with every buckle on the braces, her hands not cooperating with the leather bands. She froze, thinking back over the last week or so, realizing that she had been having problems with her hands she hadnt even noticed, or had purposely ignored. A trip to the doctor confirmed what she feared- the MS was affecting her hands and arms, too, more quickly than it had effected her legs. For the first time, Tina was looking at a wheelchair and thinking the word confinement.
She was still able to use her crutches, but started using a wheelchair at home to rest her arms, which were getting tired more easily. It soon got to the point where her mother had to help her put her braces on and take them off, and after a few months she began to forgo the leg braces entirely, using the wheelchair full time. The last time she put her leg braces on was for her high school graduation- she wanted so much to walk up and receive her diploma, and she was able to, just barely, crutch up to the principal and take the rolled piece of paper, waving it over her head triumphantly before crutching slowly back down to her wheelchair.
College life in a wheelchair wasnt that bad- the campus was very well accessible, and there were many disabled people on campus, both student and staff. One of her own teachers was an arm amputee, and he pointed to people with his shiny chrome hook all the time. She continued a physical therapy program every other day, mostly for arm strengthening now, as her legs were very bed. Out of her braces, Tinas legs were thin, she could barely move them at all any more. Her toes curled in and her feet pointed inward naturally, making it difficult to adjust them well in her wheelchair, and it was almost impossible to cross them any more. She kept with the manual wheelchair for her entire freshman and part of her sophomore year, but as she asked for a helping push more and more, as her arms got weaker and the pushing of her wheelchair got more difficult, she knew she had to make a choice.
Her new wheelchair was red, a motorized model with a simple joystick mechanism for driving it. It became much easier for Tina to get around the campus in it, but it also separated her more from other people. A woman in such a wheelchair was obviously very disabled, and not many people knew what to do around Tina any more. Her real friends stayed by her and helped her through the tough times she had, and she again adapted to life with MS. She finished school with honors, getting her degree in Journalism and getting a job with a major metropolitan newspaper.
Tina married her college boyfriend, who had helped her so much during her toughest times. After college, her MS seemed to stop progressing, and though her arms were weak and she still needed her power wheelchair, she never got any worse. She started a family, won several journalism awards, and eventually wrote a book about her struggles with MS.
The End
Story - First Date
First Date By ParaGirl
Sarah was excited- she was going on her first date since the accident
that paralyzed her four years before. His name was John and he was a
computer programmer at the firm where she worked as a secretary,
which is where they met. It had started very quietly, he had asked her a
few weeks ago if he could sit with her in the cafeteria one day. Soon
one day became a week, and he asked for her phone number, which
surprised Sarah both because she was disabled and because he seemed
so shy. He did seem very nice though, so she agreed and they exchanged
phone numbers.
John had called her that night and they talked for over an hour, and
were really hitting it off, when John said he had something to tell her.
Sarah was afraid, because she had really started to like John, and she
had heard Ive got something to tell you too many times since her
accident. It seemed to be slang for Youre nice, for a cripple, but I
want to date a normal girl. Sarah held her breath in preparation for the
I understand speech she had rehearsed so many times when John came
out with something she hadnt hear before. He had said Im a
devotee.
Sarah had heard about devotees from doctors, friends from rehab, it
was a well-known but little talked about aspect of being disabled,
especially a disabled female. Devotees were people, usually men, who
liked disabled women, or found them sexually more attractive than able-
bodied women.. The idea at once frightened Sarah and peaked her
curiosity. John was shy, clean, professional, and he seemed very nice-
not one of the perverted ogres that usually portrayed Devotees. Sarah
was quiet for a minute, and John asked her if she was OK. She said yes,
she thought so, but she asked if he could give her a day to think about
it, it needed time to sink in. John said fine, and he hoped to talk to her
again soon, but if she didnt call, he would be OK with that.
Sarah thought about John long into the night. On the one hand, he
was what most people she knew considered a pervert, a deviant. On the
other, however, John was kind to her, he was attractive, he was stable,
he had a great job, she knew he didnt drink or do drugs from her
conversations with him, and above all, he found her attractive,
something she hadnt experienced since waking up not being able to feel
the lower half of her body. She was 24 years old, attractive, and really
wanted to go out with John, even if he was a devotee. As Sarah went
to sleep that night, she knew she would call John the next day.
John was thrilled to hear from her and suggested a date that
weekend, to which Sarah agreed, suggesting a movie she wanted to see,
more for the fact of being around alot of people than anything else. No
matter how nice John seemed, he could still turn out to be something
less charming if he had her alone. She hoped her distrust would go
away after she really got to know him, but for now she was playing it
safe.
-Getting Ready-
And the weekend had come already. Sarah looked at the clock,
knowing John would be there in just under three hours to pick her up,
plenty of time to get ready to go out. She wheeled herself into her
bedroom, looking at herself in the mirror. She had shoulder-length
blonde hair, and her skin was light. She had big blue eyes and long
eyelashes, and her cheekbones were high and defined- she had always
thought of herself as very pretty- at least until the accident. She was
wearing a T-shirt now, and a pair of shorts. Her legs were thinner than
they had been before the accident, the muscle tone in her legs had all but
disappeared in the four years shes been confined to her wheelchair.
Her bare feet sat limply in the footrest of her wheelchair , as the always
did, her toes curled in slightly. She looked at her paralyzed legs,
thinking they were still attractive, that Johns interest in them wasnt so
strange. Using her hands, she lifted her left leg and crossed it over the
right. She watched her foot just drop there, hanging. It still amazed
her, her new body. She watched her foot, even rolled back and forth a
little, and the foot hung there, moved a little, but she couldnt feel
anything, like it wasnt even hers. She still hadnt gotten used to that
yet, not completely.
Sarah went to her closet and pulled down a nice spring blouse and a
knee-length skirt she liked to wear. She laid them on the bed and
wheeled to her dresser. She pulled out a pretty bra and panties, and a
pair of pantyhose to match the skirt. She put it all on the bed and
wheeled herself into the bathroom. She pulled two thick towels out of
the linen closet and put them on a low table by the shower. She locked
her wheelchair and lifted her crossed left leg, putting her foot on the
floor. She then lifted her right leg and put her right foot on the floor as
well. She then grabbed onto a bar on the wall and hoisted herself up
out of her wheelchair several inches. She used her other hand to slide
the elastic-waist shorts she was wearing down to her ankles along with
her panties. She sat back in the chair and lifted her legs one at a time to
pull the shorts and panties off of her feet. She stripped out of her T-
shirt and bra, so she was totally naked, and threw the laundry in the
nearby hamper. She then grabbed onto the grab bar again and slid
herself out of her wheelchair and into a white plastic chair with small
wheels on all four legs. She positioned her legs properly and grabbed
the two grab-bars in her shower, pulling herself into her accessible
shower stall. Her feet dragged along the floor into the stall. She closed
the door and turned on the water, making it hot enough to steam up the
stall. Sarah then took the shower head, which was removable, and
began to rinse herself off. She soaked her hair, her arms, her breasts,
then her legs, spraying them thoroughly. She replaced the
showerhead into its bracket and grabbed her body wash, lathering up
her lufa and scrubbing herself all over. She put the lufa in her lap and
used her hands to lift her right leg over her left, then she scrubbed it all
over, even under her foot. She lowered it back to the floor and did the
same for her left leg, scrubbing it and washing it fully. She finished and
placed it back on the floor as well, then took up the showerhead again,
spraying herself and rinsing off the soap. She lathered her blonde hair
with shampoo and rinsed it out, then did the same with conditioner. She
rinsed herself off fully and turned off the water. She opened the shower
stall door and pushed herself, in her rolling shower chair, back out into
the bathroom and grabbed a towel. She dried her upper body and
vigorously toweled her hair dry, wrapping the towel around her head,
then took the other towel. The grabbed the towel by opposite corners
and used it to lasso her right foot, lifting it into her lap. She toweled
her leg off from toes to crotch, then lowered it back down. She lifted
her left leg and dried it off, too. She finally folded the towel into a small
square and out it on her wheelchair seat cushion. She transferred back
into her wheelchair naked and wheeled over to the toilet. She had a
feeling she needed to go, and parked the chair right by the toilet. She
grabbed the grab-bars and transferred herself onto the seat. She didnt
even bother fixing her legs, so they just lay there crooked and crossed.
She didnt really care- they didnt hurt, after all. She finished up and
transferred back into her wheelchair, wheeling into her bedroom to
finish getting ready.
Sarah wheeled up to her bed and again locked the wheelchair. There
was nothing worse than not locking your wheelchair and watching it roll
across the room as you transfer out of it. She grabbed the hanging
grab-bar over her bed and lifted herself out of her wheelchair and over
to the bed. Her legs flopped over the edge of the bed and she had to lift
them, one at a time, and lay them out straight in front of her. She first
took her panties and pulled her legs up closer to her by lifting her knees.
She fit the panties on over her feet and pulled them up past her knees.
She let her legs drop back down and laid all the way back, pulling the
panties up to her waist. The next thing she had to do was the one she
hated most; she took a liner- actually an adult diaper- and slid it into her
panties. She was pretty good about going to the bathroom, but she
didnt have very good control , and she would really hate the
embarrassment of having an accident on her date. She sat back up and
took her panty hose. She scrunched up the left leg of her panty hose
and pulled her left foot up to her lap, fitting the tight nylon over her
paralyzed foot. Her toes scrunched up more in panty hose, but thats
what shoes were for. She laid her foot out but still near her lap, and
scrunched up the right leg of her panty hose, pulled her right foot up to
her lap, and pulled the nylon over her right foot. She placed her legs
out straight again and started pulling the nylons up her lifeless legs. She
got them up past her knees and straightened them out up to there, then
pulled them up to her thighs and straightened them more. She again
laid back and pulled the panty hose up to her waist, pulling the
waistband up to just above where she still had feeling. She sat up again
and straightened the panty hose all the way up from her toes, so they
looked allright. Sarah still liked how her legs looked in nylons, and she
hoped John would too. Next she put on her blouse and tucked its tails
into the waistband of her panty hose. It helped her keep the shirt tucked
in right, as well as keeping the panty hose up during transfers and
things. Lastly she took her skirt and spread it out on the bed beside her.
She grabbed onto the hanging grab-bar and lifted her bottom up and
swung it over onto the skirt. She laid back and pulled the skirt up
around her waist. She clipped the waistband and zipped the side up,
completing the project.
Sarah sat back up and slid herself to the edge of the bed. She
grabbed her wheelchair with one arm and her hanging grab-bar with the
other and slid back into her wheelchair. She lifted her left leg off the bed
and placed it into its rest, then lifted her right leg and crossed it over
her left. She unlocked her wheelchair and headed back into the
bathroom. She had a little under an hour left before John arrived.
In the bathroom Sarah pulled her wheelchair up under the lowered
counter and grabbed her brush and blow dryer. She did her hair, then
put on a little makeup, nothing too much, just enough to make her
sparkle as her mom used to say. She sprayed herself with a bit of
Obsession perfume, her favorite. She put a small gold bracelet on,
along with matching earrings and necklace, then she lifted her right
leg pulling her foot into her lap and placed a nice gold anklet on her
ankle. She was finished with a half hour to spare. She crossed her leg
back over its twin and after one final look-over wheeled out of the
bathroom.
-The Date-
John arrived about ten minutes early, knocking on the door just as
Sarah was getting her shoes. She wheeled up to the door and opened it,
her black shoes sitting in her lap. By the look on his face, John was
impressed with something, and Sarah wanted to think it was the total
package, not just her wheelchair.
Please, come in John. Make yourself comfortable, Im almost
ready. Sarah said, wheeling back from the door to allow John in. He
entered and closed the door behind him.
Thanks Sarah. You look really nice, really wonderful tonight.
John replied. He couldnt keep hi eyes off of Sarah, but to her pleasant
surprise, he was looking at HER, not her wheelchair or her legs. Oh, he
stole more than the casual glance at her nylon-clad feet, turned in and
curled as they were, but she could tell he was looking at her mostly.
She felt more at ease already.
I cant wait for this movie, Sarah chatted as John sat on the couch.
It looks really good.
Yes, it does- I figured we could go to the Rialto theater, the screens
are much bigger than at the cineplex.
Oh, well John, I really dont like the Rialto- the only wheelchair
slots in the theater are way in the back, and the sound isnt so great
back there. The cineplex is better for me.
Well, thats OK, but if you wanted to go to the Cineplex, I could.. I
could help you. John was almost frozen with anticipation and fear,
wondering if he had just ended the date before it started.
Um, Sarah said with much hesitation, No, not this time, thanks
John. Id just like to see how this date goes before- well before
anything else.
Oh, thats OK Sarah, it was probably a bit too forward of me, Im
sorry. The Cineplex it is, whenever youre ready. Sarah could tell john
was relived but a little disappointed by her decision, a reaction she could
certainly live with. Part of her was still afraid he might get too
friendly, but the old Sarah was really starting to like John.
Hey, all I have left to do is get my shoes on and we can go. Sarah
commented, lifting the small black shoes for emphasis. If you dont
mind, you could help me put them on.
Sarah watched the range of emotions flare through John, from
amazement and excitement to trepidation and fear, all in a second or so.
Are you sure? he asked, and Sarah nodded yes with as much
nonchalance as she could muster, as if this were just some minor thing.
The truth was, noone had EVER put Sarahs shoes on for her, not even
in the hospital. She wheeled right up to where John was sitting and
watched. John lifted her right foot gently, more gently than even she
ever did. He placed it in the cradle between his two clenched knees and
she handed him her right shoe. He gently lifted her paralyzed foot and
slid the toes of it into the leather shoe. Sarah noticed he was very
careful not to squeeze her foot in or twist it, and he slid her heel into the
shoe and rested it again on his knees while he strapped the thin strap
over the top of her foot. He got it just right, she saw, pulling the strap
just tight enough and placing the fastener through the same hole she
would have. It was so hard for her to get a good fit on shoes, not being
able to feel her feet at all. John placed her foot gently back into its
footrest- he placed it slightly turned in, not straight, and Sarah
wondered if he liked feet to look that way more. It was one of so many
questions she would ask him, if she ever got the courage. He had lifted
her other foot and she handed him her other shoe. He again placed her
paralyzed foot gently into her shoe and strapped it in, so the shoe
wouldnt fall off accidentally. John placed her foot back into its
footrest, again placing the foot pointed inwards, so she looked slightly
pigeon-toed. She figured shed leave them that way, at least for now,
he seemed to like it.
Sarah wheeled out into the parking lot and realized she had no idea
whos car they would be taking to the movie. She didnt even know
what john drove.
If you like, I could drive Sarah. John offered. Im sure you wont
have any trouble getting in and out of my car. Or we can take yours, if
youd like.
Well, what do you drive? Sarah asked, wheeling across the lot.
Thats it right there, the Buick. John pointed to a large dark blue
sedan, a very nice looking car indeed. The doors looked plenty big
enough for her, so she agreed.
John opened the passenger door for her and she wheeled up to it.
She grabbed the doorframe and her chair and slid herself quite easily
into
the plush seat- this was a really nice car! She pulled one leg into the
car, then her other- John was watching intently as she did it. She then
reached out and pulled the tab on the back of her wheelchair, collapsing
it. She pulled the back wheels off and John put them and the chair itself
into the back seat for her. She fastened her seatbelt and straightened her
legs a little more as John got into the car.
This is a nice car, John. It looks new.
Ive had it for about a month, really. It was just time to get a new
car, and I like this alot. I dont need flashy, just give me comfy.
Sarah got a shiver, realizing that she had said those same words a
number of times. John was really turning out to be something else.
They drove to the theater chatting about work and other small talk.
Sarah rode with her hands on her lap, and John asked about it.
Whenever I ride in a car, Ill usually just keep my hands on my lap,
partly for comfort and partly to make sure my legs are still there. Sarah
replied with a smile. She saw John grab a quick glance at her legs and
continue with small talk. Sarah started thinking he was alot more
nervous about this than she was.
John pulled into the theater parking lot and parked in an area without
many other cars, not as close to the front as he could. Sarah was
confused until she realized- he couldnt use a handicapped spot like she
could, so he was parking in an area open enough so she could transfer
into her chair. He was very good at this. Sarah decided to broach the
subject with him.
John, I know youre a devotee, and please dont take this the wrong
way, but how many disabled women have you dated? I only ask
because youre really very thoughtful, realizing things I might need, that
most able-bodied people wouldnt think of. Parking out here so I can
transfer into my chair, for example.
John sat there for a minute. OK, he said. Confession time. Ive
never dated a disabled woman before. I know about these things
because my mother was paralyzed, when she was a little girl. She was
actually paralyzed from about her chest down, and she needed alot of
help to do anything, because the world wasnt nearly so adaptive for
disabled people back in the 50s. My dad was actually her familys
milkman, she fell out the door one day trying to get the milk and
couldnt get back up. He helped her, and took pity on her at first.
Then, as they got to know each other, he fell in love with her, and she
with him. They were married, which in itself was a scandal, because she
was a cripple in the vernacular of the times, but then she got pregnant,
which was totally taboo! Both their families thought that she would
have a crippled baby- like spinal cord injury was genetic- or that she
would be an unfit mother. Well, she gave birth to a healthy baby girl,
my sister Sue, and then three more kids after her, another girl and two
boys. My parents had the best relationship Ive ever known, which is
why I think Im a devotee, why Im looking for a woman with a
disability. To me, that is what a healthy, loving relationship is. Im
sorry, I was going to save all this, but it seemed a good time.
It took all Sarah could muster to hold back a tear- John was not a
monster or pervert, he was a very sweet guy who genuinely liked her,
and even though alot of his attraction was to her disability, her
wheelchair, there were some truly sweet motives behind it all.
OK, Sarah choked out. Lets go see a movie- John, my chair
please! she said as if she were ordering her butler around. John caught
on immediately and laughed out loud, getting Sarahs chair and putting
it
together for her. He wheeled it into the proper position and locked it
for her, then watched as she lifted herself out of the car and transferred
into it. She again lifted her legs over and placed them into the
wheelchair, then fixed her skirt and smoothed her nylons some. She
lifted her left leg, as John watched, and crossed it over her left,
straightening her legs a little more before unlocking the wheelchair and
wheeling up to the theater.
John bought the tickets while Sarah went for popcorn. She picked
up a large popcorn and two soft drinks, then had to ask the high-school
dropout at the counter for a tray to carry it on her lap. She met John at
the door to the theater and they went in. Sarah wheeled right for her
usual spot- a nice area up front, not too close to the screen, that was
flanked by regular seats. She parked her chair in the open spot, locking
it, and John took the seat beside her.
You know, before my accident, I never knew what these spaces
were for. Sarah giggled.
What happened to you, your accident? You dont have to tell me if
you dont want to, its OK.
No, actually thats something that I dont mind talking about at all.
It happened four years ago, I was mountain biking with a friend when I
fell off the trail. It was a fifteen foot drop, and I landed on my back. I
remember getting the wind knocked out of me and blacking out, just for
a second. I opened my eyes and saw my leg was broken, it had
slammed against a rock and it just bent the wrong way. I remember
thinking how much that should hurt, my leg broken that bad, and the
real facts just started creeping into my thoughts, then I blacked out. I
woke up a few hours later in the hospital, in a body cast and full leg
cast, but I knew right away. I couldnt feel anything, nothing at all from
my waist down, and I knew Id never walk again. I cried alot for the
first few weeks- I loved mountain biking you see, I had always been
very active, and I knew no matter how independent I became, Id
never ride a bike again. They gave me all the uplifting speeches and
stuff throughout my recovery, but it wasnt until I got out on my own
that I really decided to put it behind me and start living again. I got the
job, got my apartment, and started over, really. When something like
this happens, Sarah indicated her paralyzed legs, her wheelchair. A
person really has to start over again from scratch, learn it all over
again.
John looked at Sarah, and he was looking at her, not at her
wheelchair. I never really realized that, I guess. I mean, my mom got
hurt when she was only five, and back then there wasnt many options
for a girl who couldnt walk. She was just always in a wheelchair, for
just about all of her life.
Theres alot more too it than a pretty set of legs in a wheelchair,
John. Alot more.
I guess so. Said John, then he went quiet, but Sarah knew he
understood.
The movie started shortly after that, and during the film Sarah kept
shooting glances over to John. A few times, he was looking at her, too,
in a good way. About half way through the movie, Sarah had the urge
to hold Johns hand. She reached over and took hold of it- he almost
jumped! She held it on the armrest of his chair for a little while, then
moved the hand holding to her own lap. John wasnt sure what to do,
so he sat there, and Sarah saw he was smiling. The movie ended and
they sat there for a few more minutes, just sitting and not talking. Sarah
knew there was something there between them, she could feel it, but she
didnt want to rush into anything.
OK, lets hit the road, John. Sarah unlocked her chair and started
wheeling out before he was even out of his seat. he caught up in a few
strides and walked beside her, not behind like when they entered the
theater.
So, where to now? John asked.
First, the ladies room for me. Sarah replied, wheeling in the
direction of the restrooms.
And after that? John asked from behind her.
Ill let you know when Im done here- Oh, and, this could take a
while. Sarah added, suddenly embarrassed.
Thats fine- its worth the wait. John replied with a giggle.
Sarah wheeled into the womens room and- of course- the
handicapped stall was occupied. She waited a minute or two and the
stall door opened- a teen-aged girl walked out and looked
embarrassingly at Sarah, then turned away. Sarah just gave her a look
and wheeled into the stall. She backed her wheelchair in beside the
toilet and locked it, then lifted herself on the grab-bars, sliding over
onto he seat. She lifted herself a little, pulled her skirt up, and wriggled
her panty hose and panties down. She checked her shield- it was
thankfully dry- then finished her business and pulled her panties back up,
then her panty hose. She finished by tucking her blouse back in, then
transferred back into her wheelchair. She lifted her legs and put them
back into the chair, then for effect, she bent over and adjusted her feet,
so they pointed in even more extremely than John had positioned them
earlier. They looked strange that way- she always made sure that her
legs were positioned as naturally as possible, so positioning them so
unnaturally made them look much more handicapped to her. She
figured thats what John liked, thats why he put them that way earlier.
She looked down at them again and wheeled out of the stall and to the
mirror. She saw an older woman look at her and quickly look away-
she was used to it. People didnt like to be reminded of how fragile they
really were, Sarah guessed. She had to admit, before her accident, she
was the same way.
Sarah wheeled out of the ladies room to see John waiting for her.
He smiled as he saw her and he walked over to her. She saw him glance
down at her feet once, then a double take.
So, where to now? John asked, falling in beside her and heading
out.
What did you have in mind? She asked. She wheeled herself
through the large doors with John close behind.
I thought going out for coffee would be nice, actually. He said.
Sounds nice. You drive. She giggled. John was noticeably more
relaxed, and Sarah realized that was because she was more relaxed with
him. They got to the car and realized someone had parked right next to
Johns car, and too close to open the door fully.
Um, John, they are parked a little too close. Sarah sighed.
Dont worry, Ill just pull the car out some, then you can transfer
easier. Just give me a sec.
Actually John, you dont have to do that. Could you just help me
in, like give me a lift. Sarah watched his expression. He had no idea
what to say or do until he blurted out Um, sure.
He opened the passenger side door and Sarah pulled her chair up to
the back of the car- the other car was so close she couldnt wheel in
between them. John walked up nervously to her.
So, how should we do this? Any preference? John asked.
Sarah looked up at him. Well, are you familiar with the cradle
method? You cradle me-
Yes, Ill cradle you under your knees and shoulders to lift you into
the car. Should be a breeze. Sarah raised her arms and John cradled
her, lifting her legs from under her knees. He marveled at how soft her
legs were, how limp they were just hanging there in her arms. He lifted
her gently and carried her the short distance to the car door, then gently
lowered her into the seat.
Perfect- youre good at this John. Sarah said, straightening her
legs.
Coming from you, Sarah, that means alot, it really does, thanks.
No, thank you- for a wonderful evening. Now lets go get that
coffee, OK?
John broke down her wheelchair and put it in the back seat, then
drove to the coffee shop. Sarah transferred into her wheelchair and they
went into the coffee shop. John moved a chair away from a small round
table and Sarah pulled her chair up to it. They ordered Latte and just
looked at each other for a minute before John spoke.
Sarah, I just want to say I really like you alot. Its true, I like the
chair, but over tonight Ive found I really like you, as a person. I just
wanted to get that out in the open. You know what I am, and what I
like, so I figured just put it all on the table and see what happens. I
hope thats not a problem for you.
I dont think so John. I mean, when you first told me, yes, I had a
problem, but you are so nice, and the fact that you find me attractive
because of my paralysis seems so minor, theres so much more we can
talk about and have in common. Id like to give it a try, I guess.
John sighed a little, a happy sigh. They continued to chat for a little
while, about little things, until Sarah asked John about his mother.
Well, she was five when it happened, she fell off a roof, broke her
back. Medical treatment was minimal then, and she was paralyzed. She
grew up getting help from her family, and they figured she would always
be a burden. Oh, she might get some small job, but even that was kind
of rare in the 50s. The Doctors actually suggested they put her in an
institution, so she could be with her own kind. Her family refused, so
I guess Im thankful for that. Then one day, she fell out of her chair
getting the milk from the front porch- she was seventeen and had barely
even left the house yet. The milkman, my father, helped her back into
her wheelchair and the rest is history.
Sarah stared. She hadnt even thought what her life would have
been like a mere twenty or thirty years before. So, she couldnt even
get back into her own wheelchair? She asked curiously. It was one of
the first things she was taught in rehab.
Well, remember, lightweight little wheelchairs like yours are a very
modern invention. Mom always used these huge institutional chairs,
with the big footrests and armrests and such- very difficult to manage,
and my mom was always small, not all that strong. She never got much
exercise as a kid, of course.
Of course. Sarah replied. I never think about that, really. So,
your dad helped her alot?
Oh yes, there wasnt anything my father wouldnt do for her. It
took him a little while to get over the pity phase, even he admits that,
but he would help her in and out of her wheelchair, help her in the
bathroom, help bathe her. It was never a chore for him, he loved doing
it. I guess maybe he was a devotee, too, at least after the fact. Now,
ever since I was a little kid, I like to look at disabled women. Crutches,
braces, even blind or deaf women catch my eye, but nothing quite so
much as a wheelchair with a pretty set of legs in it. And your legs are
very nice, I hope you dont mind me saying that.
No, I dont mind. Sarah said, but she could feel herself blushing,
but John didnt say anything. There was alot more to this devotee than
she had even expected.
So, tell me a little more about yourself, Sarah. Ive been gabbing all
night, it seems.
Well, theres not much more to tell. You already know Im going
to night school to get my degree, and after that, Id like a job working
with people, helping people. Not just disabled people, mind you, but
people in general.
Well, thats really nice. John said. Sarah looked at her watch.
Wow, its really late, John, Id better get home before my wheelchair
turns into a pumpkin! They both laughed loudly at that. John paid for
he Lattes and Sarah wheeled out of the shop in front of him, out to his
car. He opened the door for her and she transferred smoothly from her
wheelchair into the seat. John watched her lift her legs, one at a time,
and put them in the car. She straightened her skirt as he put her
wheelchair back into the back seat.
The drive to Sarahs house was uneventful, they chatted a little bit
about current events, both avoiding the topic of a second date. John
pulled up in front of Sarahs apartment complex and parked.
John, could you help me back into my wheelchair? Sarah asked
sweetly.
Uh, sure, of course. John hadnt been prepared for this. Sarah
knew for him this was even better than a good-night kiss. He assembled
her wheelchair expertly, placing it by her open car door, and he bent
down to cradle her. Again he placed his right arm under her shoulders
and his left arm under her knees, lifting her carefully. When he stood
up, Sarah kissed him on the cheek. He almost stumbled he was so
surprised!
Who, dont drop me John, this night has gone great until now!
Sarah giggled.
What was that for, Sarah? John asked, still stunned.
Did you like it?
Of course! He replied. I just wasnt expecting it. I wasnt
expecting any of this- He indicated the fact that he was still holing her
in his arms.
Well, I just thought- wait, could you put me down first? Sarah
giggled.
Sure, sorry. John lowered Sarah into her wheelchair, and she fixed
her legs, again pointing her toes inward. John noticed.
Anyway, as I was saying John. Sarah started again, Ive really had
a good time tonight, Ive had a good time with you. Now that Ive
gotten to know you better, I know that you are alot more than a
devotee, and I think you know Im alot more than a paralyzed woman.
Look, what Im saying is, I would like this to be our first date, as in the
first of many. Id like to keep seeing you.
John smiled at her. Great, thats great Sarah. Id like that too. So,
I guess this is goodnight, right?
Yes, John, just goodnight, not good-bye. By the way, you never
told me, what are your parents up to? If theyre dead, Im going to feel
SO bad that I asked that.
Oh no, theyre alive and well. Dad is retired now, and mom, well,
mom is kind of busy with work.
Really? What does she do? Sarah asked.
Oh, my mom is Sandra Weller. John said, seemingly suprized.
The names familiar, what does she do?
John just smiled. Shes in law.
Oh, OK. Well, Ill call you tomorrow, OK? And John, I had
ALOT of fun tonight. Thank you very much. Well do this again
soon.
I had fun too, Sarah. Take care, Ill talk to you soon. John got in
his car as Sarah wheeled up the door to her apartment, but he didnt
leave until she was safely inside. She closed the door behind her and got
ready for bed, but something was eating at her, and she couldnt put
her finger on it. As she parked her wheelchair next to her bed and
started to transfer, she inhaled sharply with suprise. The name Sandra
Weller came to her with a picture of a stately gray-haired woman, sitting
in a wheelchair, wearing a black robe. She remembered it form the
news the year before- Sandra Louise Weller, the first disabled woman
ever appointed to the Chicago Supreme Court. Johns mother.
Shes in law. I swear, Im going to smack him. Sarah chuckled to
herself as she lifted her legs into bed and tucked them under the covers.
The End
Sarah was excited- she was going on her first date since the accident
that paralyzed her four years before. His name was John and he was a
computer programmer at the firm where she worked as a secretary,
which is where they met. It had started very quietly, he had asked her a
few weeks ago if he could sit with her in the cafeteria one day. Soon
one day became a week, and he asked for her phone number, which
surprised Sarah both because she was disabled and because he seemed
so shy. He did seem very nice though, so she agreed and they exchanged
phone numbers.
John had called her that night and they talked for over an hour, and
were really hitting it off, when John said he had something to tell her.
Sarah was afraid, because she had really started to like John, and she
had heard Ive got something to tell you too many times since her
accident. It seemed to be slang for Youre nice, for a cripple, but I
want to date a normal girl. Sarah held her breath in preparation for the
I understand speech she had rehearsed so many times when John came
out with something she hadnt hear before. He had said Im a
devotee.
Sarah had heard about devotees from doctors, friends from rehab, it
was a well-known but little talked about aspect of being disabled,
especially a disabled female. Devotees were people, usually men, who
liked disabled women, or found them sexually more attractive than able-
bodied women.. The idea at once frightened Sarah and peaked her
curiosity. John was shy, clean, professional, and he seemed very nice-
not one of the perverted ogres that usually portrayed Devotees. Sarah
was quiet for a minute, and John asked her if she was OK. She said yes,
she thought so, but she asked if he could give her a day to think about
it, it needed time to sink in. John said fine, and he hoped to talk to her
again soon, but if she didnt call, he would be OK with that.
Sarah thought about John long into the night. On the one hand, he
was what most people she knew considered a pervert, a deviant. On the
other, however, John was kind to her, he was attractive, he was stable,
he had a great job, she knew he didnt drink or do drugs from her
conversations with him, and above all, he found her attractive,
something she hadnt experienced since waking up not being able to feel
the lower half of her body. She was 24 years old, attractive, and really
wanted to go out with John, even if he was a devotee. As Sarah went
to sleep that night, she knew she would call John the next day.
John was thrilled to hear from her and suggested a date that
weekend, to which Sarah agreed, suggesting a movie she wanted to see,
more for the fact of being around alot of people than anything else. No
matter how nice John seemed, he could still turn out to be something
less charming if he had her alone. She hoped her distrust would go
away after she really got to know him, but for now she was playing it
safe.
-Getting Ready-
And the weekend had come already. Sarah looked at the clock,
knowing John would be there in just under three hours to pick her up,
plenty of time to get ready to go out. She wheeled herself into her
bedroom, looking at herself in the mirror. She had shoulder-length
blonde hair, and her skin was light. She had big blue eyes and long
eyelashes, and her cheekbones were high and defined- she had always
thought of herself as very pretty- at least until the accident. She was
wearing a T-shirt now, and a pair of shorts. Her legs were thinner than
they had been before the accident, the muscle tone in her legs had all but
disappeared in the four years shes been confined to her wheelchair.
Her bare feet sat limply in the footrest of her wheelchair , as the always
did, her toes curled in slightly. She looked at her paralyzed legs,
thinking they were still attractive, that Johns interest in them wasnt so
strange. Using her hands, she lifted her left leg and crossed it over the
right. She watched her foot just drop there, hanging. It still amazed
her, her new body. She watched her foot, even rolled back and forth a
little, and the foot hung there, moved a little, but she couldnt feel
anything, like it wasnt even hers. She still hadnt gotten used to that
yet, not completely.
Sarah went to her closet and pulled down a nice spring blouse and a
knee-length skirt she liked to wear. She laid them on the bed and
wheeled to her dresser. She pulled out a pretty bra and panties, and a
pair of pantyhose to match the skirt. She put it all on the bed and
wheeled herself into the bathroom. She pulled two thick towels out of
the linen closet and put them on a low table by the shower. She locked
her wheelchair and lifted her crossed left leg, putting her foot on the
floor. She then lifted her right leg and put her right foot on the floor as
well. She then grabbed onto a bar on the wall and hoisted herself up
out of her wheelchair several inches. She used her other hand to slide
the elastic-waist shorts she was wearing down to her ankles along with
her panties. She sat back in the chair and lifted her legs one at a time to
pull the shorts and panties off of her feet. She stripped out of her T-
shirt and bra, so she was totally naked, and threw the laundry in the
nearby hamper. She then grabbed onto the grab bar again and slid
herself out of her wheelchair and into a white plastic chair with small
wheels on all four legs. She positioned her legs properly and grabbed
the two grab-bars in her shower, pulling herself into her accessible
shower stall. Her feet dragged along the floor into the stall. She closed
the door and turned on the water, making it hot enough to steam up the
stall. Sarah then took the shower head, which was removable, and
began to rinse herself off. She soaked her hair, her arms, her breasts,
then her legs, spraying them thoroughly. She replaced the
showerhead into its bracket and grabbed her body wash, lathering up
her lufa and scrubbing herself all over. She put the lufa in her lap and
used her hands to lift her right leg over her left, then she scrubbed it all
over, even under her foot. She lowered it back to the floor and did the
same for her left leg, scrubbing it and washing it fully. She finished and
placed it back on the floor as well, then took up the showerhead again,
spraying herself and rinsing off the soap. She lathered her blonde hair
with shampoo and rinsed it out, then did the same with conditioner. She
rinsed herself off fully and turned off the water. She opened the shower
stall door and pushed herself, in her rolling shower chair, back out into
the bathroom and grabbed a towel. She dried her upper body and
vigorously toweled her hair dry, wrapping the towel around her head,
then took the other towel. The grabbed the towel by opposite corners
and used it to lasso her right foot, lifting it into her lap. She toweled
her leg off from toes to crotch, then lowered it back down. She lifted
her left leg and dried it off, too. She finally folded the towel into a small
square and out it on her wheelchair seat cushion. She transferred back
into her wheelchair naked and wheeled over to the toilet. She had a
feeling she needed to go, and parked the chair right by the toilet. She
grabbed the grab-bars and transferred herself onto the seat. She didnt
even bother fixing her legs, so they just lay there crooked and crossed.
She didnt really care- they didnt hurt, after all. She finished up and
transferred back into her wheelchair, wheeling into her bedroom to
finish getting ready.
Sarah wheeled up to her bed and again locked the wheelchair. There
was nothing worse than not locking your wheelchair and watching it roll
across the room as you transfer out of it. She grabbed the hanging
grab-bar over her bed and lifted herself out of her wheelchair and over
to the bed. Her legs flopped over the edge of the bed and she had to lift
them, one at a time, and lay them out straight in front of her. She first
took her panties and pulled her legs up closer to her by lifting her knees.
She fit the panties on over her feet and pulled them up past her knees.
She let her legs drop back down and laid all the way back, pulling the
panties up to her waist. The next thing she had to do was the one she
hated most; she took a liner- actually an adult diaper- and slid it into her
panties. She was pretty good about going to the bathroom, but she
didnt have very good control , and she would really hate the
embarrassment of having an accident on her date. She sat back up and
took her panty hose. She scrunched up the left leg of her panty hose
and pulled her left foot up to her lap, fitting the tight nylon over her
paralyzed foot. Her toes scrunched up more in panty hose, but thats
what shoes were for. She laid her foot out but still near her lap, and
scrunched up the right leg of her panty hose, pulled her right foot up to
her lap, and pulled the nylon over her right foot. She placed her legs
out straight again and started pulling the nylons up her lifeless legs. She
got them up past her knees and straightened them out up to there, then
pulled them up to her thighs and straightened them more. She again
laid back and pulled the panty hose up to her waist, pulling the
waistband up to just above where she still had feeling. She sat up again
and straightened the panty hose all the way up from her toes, so they
looked allright. Sarah still liked how her legs looked in nylons, and she
hoped John would too. Next she put on her blouse and tucked its tails
into the waistband of her panty hose. It helped her keep the shirt tucked
in right, as well as keeping the panty hose up during transfers and
things. Lastly she took her skirt and spread it out on the bed beside her.
She grabbed onto the hanging grab-bar and lifted her bottom up and
swung it over onto the skirt. She laid back and pulled the skirt up
around her waist. She clipped the waistband and zipped the side up,
completing the project.
Sarah sat back up and slid herself to the edge of the bed. She
grabbed her wheelchair with one arm and her hanging grab-bar with the
other and slid back into her wheelchair. She lifted her left leg off the bed
and placed it into its rest, then lifted her right leg and crossed it over
her left. She unlocked her wheelchair and headed back into the
bathroom. She had a little under an hour left before John arrived.
In the bathroom Sarah pulled her wheelchair up under the lowered
counter and grabbed her brush and blow dryer. She did her hair, then
put on a little makeup, nothing too much, just enough to make her
sparkle as her mom used to say. She sprayed herself with a bit of
Obsession perfume, her favorite. She put a small gold bracelet on,
along with matching earrings and necklace, then she lifted her right
leg pulling her foot into her lap and placed a nice gold anklet on her
ankle. She was finished with a half hour to spare. She crossed her leg
back over its twin and after one final look-over wheeled out of the
bathroom.
-The Date-
John arrived about ten minutes early, knocking on the door just as
Sarah was getting her shoes. She wheeled up to the door and opened it,
her black shoes sitting in her lap. By the look on his face, John was
impressed with something, and Sarah wanted to think it was the total
package, not just her wheelchair.
Please, come in John. Make yourself comfortable, Im almost
ready. Sarah said, wheeling back from the door to allow John in. He
entered and closed the door behind him.
Thanks Sarah. You look really nice, really wonderful tonight.
John replied. He couldnt keep hi eyes off of Sarah, but to her pleasant
surprise, he was looking at HER, not her wheelchair or her legs. Oh, he
stole more than the casual glance at her nylon-clad feet, turned in and
curled as they were, but she could tell he was looking at her mostly.
She felt more at ease already.
I cant wait for this movie, Sarah chatted as John sat on the couch.
It looks really good.
Yes, it does- I figured we could go to the Rialto theater, the screens
are much bigger than at the cineplex.
Oh, well John, I really dont like the Rialto- the only wheelchair
slots in the theater are way in the back, and the sound isnt so great
back there. The cineplex is better for me.
Well, thats OK, but if you wanted to go to the Cineplex, I could.. I
could help you. John was almost frozen with anticipation and fear,
wondering if he had just ended the date before it started.
Um, Sarah said with much hesitation, No, not this time, thanks
John. Id just like to see how this date goes before- well before
anything else.
Oh, thats OK Sarah, it was probably a bit too forward of me, Im
sorry. The Cineplex it is, whenever youre ready. Sarah could tell john
was relived but a little disappointed by her decision, a reaction she could
certainly live with. Part of her was still afraid he might get too
friendly, but the old Sarah was really starting to like John.
Hey, all I have left to do is get my shoes on and we can go. Sarah
commented, lifting the small black shoes for emphasis. If you dont
mind, you could help me put them on.
Sarah watched the range of emotions flare through John, from
amazement and excitement to trepidation and fear, all in a second or so.
Are you sure? he asked, and Sarah nodded yes with as much
nonchalance as she could muster, as if this were just some minor thing.
The truth was, noone had EVER put Sarahs shoes on for her, not even
in the hospital. She wheeled right up to where John was sitting and
watched. John lifted her right foot gently, more gently than even she
ever did. He placed it in the cradle between his two clenched knees and
she handed him her right shoe. He gently lifted her paralyzed foot and
slid the toes of it into the leather shoe. Sarah noticed he was very
careful not to squeeze her foot in or twist it, and he slid her heel into the
shoe and rested it again on his knees while he strapped the thin strap
over the top of her foot. He got it just right, she saw, pulling the strap
just tight enough and placing the fastener through the same hole she
would have. It was so hard for her to get a good fit on shoes, not being
able to feel her feet at all. John placed her foot gently back into its
footrest- he placed it slightly turned in, not straight, and Sarah
wondered if he liked feet to look that way more. It was one of so many
questions she would ask him, if she ever got the courage. He had lifted
her other foot and she handed him her other shoe. He again placed her
paralyzed foot gently into her shoe and strapped it in, so the shoe
wouldnt fall off accidentally. John placed her foot back into its
footrest, again placing the foot pointed inwards, so she looked slightly
pigeon-toed. She figured shed leave them that way, at least for now,
he seemed to like it.
Sarah wheeled out into the parking lot and realized she had no idea
whos car they would be taking to the movie. She didnt even know
what john drove.
If you like, I could drive Sarah. John offered. Im sure you wont
have any trouble getting in and out of my car. Or we can take yours, if
youd like.
Well, what do you drive? Sarah asked, wheeling across the lot.
Thats it right there, the Buick. John pointed to a large dark blue
sedan, a very nice looking car indeed. The doors looked plenty big
enough for her, so she agreed.
John opened the passenger door for her and she wheeled up to it.
She grabbed the doorframe and her chair and slid herself quite easily
into
the plush seat- this was a really nice car! She pulled one leg into the
car, then her other- John was watching intently as she did it. She then
reached out and pulled the tab on the back of her wheelchair, collapsing
it. She pulled the back wheels off and John put them and the chair itself
into the back seat for her. She fastened her seatbelt and straightened her
legs a little more as John got into the car.
This is a nice car, John. It looks new.
Ive had it for about a month, really. It was just time to get a new
car, and I like this alot. I dont need flashy, just give me comfy.
Sarah got a shiver, realizing that she had said those same words a
number of times. John was really turning out to be something else.
They drove to the theater chatting about work and other small talk.
Sarah rode with her hands on her lap, and John asked about it.
Whenever I ride in a car, Ill usually just keep my hands on my lap,
partly for comfort and partly to make sure my legs are still there. Sarah
replied with a smile. She saw John grab a quick glance at her legs and
continue with small talk. Sarah started thinking he was alot more
nervous about this than she was.
John pulled into the theater parking lot and parked in an area without
many other cars, not as close to the front as he could. Sarah was
confused until she realized- he couldnt use a handicapped spot like she
could, so he was parking in an area open enough so she could transfer
into her chair. He was very good at this. Sarah decided to broach the
subject with him.
John, I know youre a devotee, and please dont take this the wrong
way, but how many disabled women have you dated? I only ask
because youre really very thoughtful, realizing things I might need, that
most able-bodied people wouldnt think of. Parking out here so I can
transfer into my chair, for example.
John sat there for a minute. OK, he said. Confession time. Ive
never dated a disabled woman before. I know about these things
because my mother was paralyzed, when she was a little girl. She was
actually paralyzed from about her chest down, and she needed alot of
help to do anything, because the world wasnt nearly so adaptive for
disabled people back in the 50s. My dad was actually her familys
milkman, she fell out the door one day trying to get the milk and
couldnt get back up. He helped her, and took pity on her at first.
Then, as they got to know each other, he fell in love with her, and she
with him. They were married, which in itself was a scandal, because she
was a cripple in the vernacular of the times, but then she got pregnant,
which was totally taboo! Both their families thought that she would
have a crippled baby- like spinal cord injury was genetic- or that she
would be an unfit mother. Well, she gave birth to a healthy baby girl,
my sister Sue, and then three more kids after her, another girl and two
boys. My parents had the best relationship Ive ever known, which is
why I think Im a devotee, why Im looking for a woman with a
disability. To me, that is what a healthy, loving relationship is. Im
sorry, I was going to save all this, but it seemed a good time.
It took all Sarah could muster to hold back a tear- John was not a
monster or pervert, he was a very sweet guy who genuinely liked her,
and even though alot of his attraction was to her disability, her
wheelchair, there were some truly sweet motives behind it all.
OK, Sarah choked out. Lets go see a movie- John, my chair
please! she said as if she were ordering her butler around. John caught
on immediately and laughed out loud, getting Sarahs chair and putting
it
together for her. He wheeled it into the proper position and locked it
for her, then watched as she lifted herself out of the car and transferred
into it. She again lifted her legs over and placed them into the
wheelchair, then fixed her skirt and smoothed her nylons some. She
lifted her left leg, as John watched, and crossed it over her left,
straightening her legs a little more before unlocking the wheelchair and
wheeling up to the theater.
John bought the tickets while Sarah went for popcorn. She picked
up a large popcorn and two soft drinks, then had to ask the high-school
dropout at the counter for a tray to carry it on her lap. She met John at
the door to the theater and they went in. Sarah wheeled right for her
usual spot- a nice area up front, not too close to the screen, that was
flanked by regular seats. She parked her chair in the open spot, locking
it, and John took the seat beside her.
You know, before my accident, I never knew what these spaces
were for. Sarah giggled.
What happened to you, your accident? You dont have to tell me if
you dont want to, its OK.
No, actually thats something that I dont mind talking about at all.
It happened four years ago, I was mountain biking with a friend when I
fell off the trail. It was a fifteen foot drop, and I landed on my back. I
remember getting the wind knocked out of me and blacking out, just for
a second. I opened my eyes and saw my leg was broken, it had
slammed against a rock and it just bent the wrong way. I remember
thinking how much that should hurt, my leg broken that bad, and the
real facts just started creeping into my thoughts, then I blacked out. I
woke up a few hours later in the hospital, in a body cast and full leg
cast, but I knew right away. I couldnt feel anything, nothing at all from
my waist down, and I knew Id never walk again. I cried alot for the
first few weeks- I loved mountain biking you see, I had always been
very active, and I knew no matter how independent I became, Id
never ride a bike again. They gave me all the uplifting speeches and
stuff throughout my recovery, but it wasnt until I got out on my own
that I really decided to put it behind me and start living again. I got the
job, got my apartment, and started over, really. When something like
this happens, Sarah indicated her paralyzed legs, her wheelchair. A
person really has to start over again from scratch, learn it all over
again.
John looked at Sarah, and he was looking at her, not at her
wheelchair. I never really realized that, I guess. I mean, my mom got
hurt when she was only five, and back then there wasnt many options
for a girl who couldnt walk. She was just always in a wheelchair, for
just about all of her life.
Theres alot more too it than a pretty set of legs in a wheelchair,
John. Alot more.
I guess so. Said John, then he went quiet, but Sarah knew he
understood.
The movie started shortly after that, and during the film Sarah kept
shooting glances over to John. A few times, he was looking at her, too,
in a good way. About half way through the movie, Sarah had the urge
to hold Johns hand. She reached over and took hold of it- he almost
jumped! She held it on the armrest of his chair for a little while, then
moved the hand holding to her own lap. John wasnt sure what to do,
so he sat there, and Sarah saw he was smiling. The movie ended and
they sat there for a few more minutes, just sitting and not talking. Sarah
knew there was something there between them, she could feel it, but she
didnt want to rush into anything.
OK, lets hit the road, John. Sarah unlocked her chair and started
wheeling out before he was even out of his seat. he caught up in a few
strides and walked beside her, not behind like when they entered the
theater.
So, where to now? John asked.
First, the ladies room for me. Sarah replied, wheeling in the
direction of the restrooms.
And after that? John asked from behind her.
Ill let you know when Im done here- Oh, and, this could take a
while. Sarah added, suddenly embarrassed.
Thats fine- its worth the wait. John replied with a giggle.
Sarah wheeled into the womens room and- of course- the
handicapped stall was occupied. She waited a minute or two and the
stall door opened- a teen-aged girl walked out and looked
embarrassingly at Sarah, then turned away. Sarah just gave her a look
and wheeled into the stall. She backed her wheelchair in beside the
toilet and locked it, then lifted herself on the grab-bars, sliding over
onto he seat. She lifted herself a little, pulled her skirt up, and wriggled
her panty hose and panties down. She checked her shield- it was
thankfully dry- then finished her business and pulled her panties back up,
then her panty hose. She finished by tucking her blouse back in, then
transferred back into her wheelchair. She lifted her legs and put them
back into the chair, then for effect, she bent over and adjusted her feet,
so they pointed in even more extremely than John had positioned them
earlier. They looked strange that way- she always made sure that her
legs were positioned as naturally as possible, so positioning them so
unnaturally made them look much more handicapped to her. She
figured thats what John liked, thats why he put them that way earlier.
She looked down at them again and wheeled out of the stall and to the
mirror. She saw an older woman look at her and quickly look away-
she was used to it. People didnt like to be reminded of how fragile they
really were, Sarah guessed. She had to admit, before her accident, she
was the same way.
Sarah wheeled out of the ladies room to see John waiting for her.
He smiled as he saw her and he walked over to her. She saw him glance
down at her feet once, then a double take.
So, where to now? John asked, falling in beside her and heading
out.
What did you have in mind? She asked. She wheeled herself
through the large doors with John close behind.
I thought going out for coffee would be nice, actually. He said.
Sounds nice. You drive. She giggled. John was noticeably more
relaxed, and Sarah realized that was because she was more relaxed with
him. They got to the car and realized someone had parked right next to
Johns car, and too close to open the door fully.
Um, John, they are parked a little too close. Sarah sighed.
Dont worry, Ill just pull the car out some, then you can transfer
easier. Just give me a sec.
Actually John, you dont have to do that. Could you just help me
in, like give me a lift. Sarah watched his expression. He had no idea
what to say or do until he blurted out Um, sure.
He opened the passenger side door and Sarah pulled her chair up to
the back of the car- the other car was so close she couldnt wheel in
between them. John walked up nervously to her.
So, how should we do this? Any preference? John asked.
Sarah looked up at him. Well, are you familiar with the cradle
method? You cradle me-
Yes, Ill cradle you under your knees and shoulders to lift you into
the car. Should be a breeze. Sarah raised her arms and John cradled
her, lifting her legs from under her knees. He marveled at how soft her
legs were, how limp they were just hanging there in her arms. He lifted
her gently and carried her the short distance to the car door, then gently
lowered her into the seat.
Perfect- youre good at this John. Sarah said, straightening her
legs.
Coming from you, Sarah, that means alot, it really does, thanks.
No, thank you- for a wonderful evening. Now lets go get that
coffee, OK?
John broke down her wheelchair and put it in the back seat, then
drove to the coffee shop. Sarah transferred into her wheelchair and they
went into the coffee shop. John moved a chair away from a small round
table and Sarah pulled her chair up to it. They ordered Latte and just
looked at each other for a minute before John spoke.
Sarah, I just want to say I really like you alot. Its true, I like the
chair, but over tonight Ive found I really like you, as a person. I just
wanted to get that out in the open. You know what I am, and what I
like, so I figured just put it all on the table and see what happens. I
hope thats not a problem for you.
I dont think so John. I mean, when you first told me, yes, I had a
problem, but you are so nice, and the fact that you find me attractive
because of my paralysis seems so minor, theres so much more we can
talk about and have in common. Id like to give it a try, I guess.
John sighed a little, a happy sigh. They continued to chat for a little
while, about little things, until Sarah asked John about his mother.
Well, she was five when it happened, she fell off a roof, broke her
back. Medical treatment was minimal then, and she was paralyzed. She
grew up getting help from her family, and they figured she would always
be a burden. Oh, she might get some small job, but even that was kind
of rare in the 50s. The Doctors actually suggested they put her in an
institution, so she could be with her own kind. Her family refused, so
I guess Im thankful for that. Then one day, she fell out of her chair
getting the milk from the front porch- she was seventeen and had barely
even left the house yet. The milkman, my father, helped her back into
her wheelchair and the rest is history.
Sarah stared. She hadnt even thought what her life would have
been like a mere twenty or thirty years before. So, she couldnt even
get back into her own wheelchair? She asked curiously. It was one of
the first things she was taught in rehab.
Well, remember, lightweight little wheelchairs like yours are a very
modern invention. Mom always used these huge institutional chairs,
with the big footrests and armrests and such- very difficult to manage,
and my mom was always small, not all that strong. She never got much
exercise as a kid, of course.
Of course. Sarah replied. I never think about that, really. So,
your dad helped her alot?
Oh yes, there wasnt anything my father wouldnt do for her. It
took him a little while to get over the pity phase, even he admits that,
but he would help her in and out of her wheelchair, help her in the
bathroom, help bathe her. It was never a chore for him, he loved doing
it. I guess maybe he was a devotee, too, at least after the fact. Now,
ever since I was a little kid, I like to look at disabled women. Crutches,
braces, even blind or deaf women catch my eye, but nothing quite so
much as a wheelchair with a pretty set of legs in it. And your legs are
very nice, I hope you dont mind me saying that.
No, I dont mind. Sarah said, but she could feel herself blushing,
but John didnt say anything. There was alot more to this devotee than
she had even expected.
So, tell me a little more about yourself, Sarah. Ive been gabbing all
night, it seems.
Well, theres not much more to tell. You already know Im going
to night school to get my degree, and after that, Id like a job working
with people, helping people. Not just disabled people, mind you, but
people in general.
Well, thats really nice. John said. Sarah looked at her watch.
Wow, its really late, John, Id better get home before my wheelchair
turns into a pumpkin! They both laughed loudly at that. John paid for
he Lattes and Sarah wheeled out of the shop in front of him, out to his
car. He opened the door for her and she transferred smoothly from her
wheelchair into the seat. John watched her lift her legs, one at a time,
and put them in the car. She straightened her skirt as he put her
wheelchair back into the back seat.
The drive to Sarahs house was uneventful, they chatted a little bit
about current events, both avoiding the topic of a second date. John
pulled up in front of Sarahs apartment complex and parked.
John, could you help me back into my wheelchair? Sarah asked
sweetly.
Uh, sure, of course. John hadnt been prepared for this. Sarah
knew for him this was even better than a good-night kiss. He assembled
her wheelchair expertly, placing it by her open car door, and he bent
down to cradle her. Again he placed his right arm under her shoulders
and his left arm under her knees, lifting her carefully. When he stood
up, Sarah kissed him on the cheek. He almost stumbled he was so
surprised!
Who, dont drop me John, this night has gone great until now!
Sarah giggled.
What was that for, Sarah? John asked, still stunned.
Did you like it?
Of course! He replied. I just wasnt expecting it. I wasnt
expecting any of this- He indicated the fact that he was still holing her
in his arms.
Well, I just thought- wait, could you put me down first? Sarah
giggled.
Sure, sorry. John lowered Sarah into her wheelchair, and she fixed
her legs, again pointing her toes inward. John noticed.
Anyway, as I was saying John. Sarah started again, Ive really had
a good time tonight, Ive had a good time with you. Now that Ive
gotten to know you better, I know that you are alot more than a
devotee, and I think you know Im alot more than a paralyzed woman.
Look, what Im saying is, I would like this to be our first date, as in the
first of many. Id like to keep seeing you.
John smiled at her. Great, thats great Sarah. Id like that too. So,
I guess this is goodnight, right?
Yes, John, just goodnight, not good-bye. By the way, you never
told me, what are your parents up to? If theyre dead, Im going to feel
SO bad that I asked that.
Oh no, theyre alive and well. Dad is retired now, and mom, well,
mom is kind of busy with work.
Really? What does she do? Sarah asked.
Oh, my mom is Sandra Weller. John said, seemingly suprized.
The names familiar, what does she do?
John just smiled. Shes in law.
Oh, OK. Well, Ill call you tomorrow, OK? And John, I had
ALOT of fun tonight. Thank you very much. Well do this again
soon.
I had fun too, Sarah. Take care, Ill talk to you soon. John got in
his car as Sarah wheeled up the door to her apartment, but he didnt
leave until she was safely inside. She closed the door behind her and got
ready for bed, but something was eating at her, and she couldnt put
her finger on it. As she parked her wheelchair next to her bed and
started to transfer, she inhaled sharply with suprise. The name Sandra
Weller came to her with a picture of a stately gray-haired woman, sitting
in a wheelchair, wearing a black robe. She remembered it form the
news the year before- Sandra Louise Weller, the first disabled woman
ever appointed to the Chicago Supreme Court. Johns mother.
Shes in law. I swear, Im going to smack him. Sarah chuckled to
herself as she lifted her legs into bed and tucked them under the covers.
The End
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