Rolling in Someone Else's Shoes

For more than two months, I've been getting around the house, store, doctor's offices, and the car using crutches.

At first, I started out with borrowed crutches from my mother-in-law.  There were way too short for me.  Using them, I looked like a rag doll strung out between two sticks.

Then, my doctor gave me a prescription for crutches made for my size.  They were much better than the borrowed ones, but it took me some time to find a height that was comfortable.  Only a couple weeks after getting them, I was walking crutching in the back yard and forgot that when we moved into this house that there was a large bird house on a pole in front of the shed.  I subsequently found the end of my left crutch in the hole, and my body weight breaking it like a toothpick as I fell to the ground.

I was back on borrowed crutches for a couple days, until the next doctor visit and a second set of new crutches.

The other day, in the middle of a three-day thunderstorm, I was crutching through the garage after an errand run, and the crutch slipped on water, bringing me down between a shelf and our car.  I was close to fitting the concrete step.  After that incident, I noticed that the rubber feet on my crutches are almost entirely worn down.  Luckily, I had the older pair of crutches with better feet to replace the worn out ones.

A couple weeks back, Jill and I were near Park City, Utah, and decided to squeeze in some shopping at a Tanger Outlet Mall.  It immediately dawned on me that using crutches wasn't a viable option, so we found the mall management office and borrowed a wheelchair.  It made navigating the stores much easier.  However, we forgot that the outdoor mall was on a slight hill.  That slight hill suddenly became a mountain, with Jill pushing my heavy carcass in that well-worn in wheelchair.  We didn't do much shopping that day.

While being confined to home or places with motorized scooters for shopping, it's become increasingly obvious that we needed to get a wheelchair.  There are places I just can't go to unless it's a quick stop.  Even a cozy drug store is a big ordeal for me.  And with the need to get out, back to school shopping on the horizon, and picking up family at the airport in the next couple weeks, I needed to get a wheelchair.

At first, I was going to rent one.  The price was less than convenient.  Buying one is even worse, and I don't think my injury would warrant one through insurance.

However, it turns out that Jill's grandfather, who is no longer with us, had a wheelchair, and it's been sitting in storage for about eight years.  After reminding my in-laws a couple times about it, they finally picked it up and brought it to me.  My mother-in-law and her family were more than happy to lend it to us.

I never had the chance to meet Jill's grandfather.  I've seen his picture on the wall.  More so, I've experienced his legacy.  Their annual family reunion is something he started and fostered over the years.  The reunion as it is today is in memory of the man, not just a continuation of the tradition he started.  And naturally, his influence is found in my the whole family, from my in-laws, to extended family, to my wife and her siblings.

In some way, using his wheelchair is a small chance to know the man.  I get to walk - or roll, as it were - in his shoes.

I think he and I would have gotten along well.  From what I understand of talking to family about him, he was an inventive and creative man.  He had that tinkerer mentality, and enjoyed trying to find a way to make something work.  When he saw an opportunity, he took it.  He exemplified some of the same characteristics I have, or wish to foster.

In some small way, I also feel like I have a chance to be closer to my new extended family.

It's amazing how borrowing a simple wheelchair makes one contemplative of the people who walked before you.