Over The Rainbow *Dramatic Hair Flick*

One of the first things I said to my mother as she swatted mosquitoes away from my legs and arms while I was lying immobile in the woods immediately following my accident was, “I’m going to be the first person in a wheelchair to jump into the Grand Canyon!”  I’m sure her initial reaction to that was somewhere between “he’s surely concussed” and “my kid’s an idiot”. Similarly, I’m sure you’re thinking, “why would a kid who just lost movement in two-thirds of his body from riding a BMX bike (metal contraption with wheels) think it's a good idea to get into a wheelchair (also a metal contraption with wheels) and risk hurting himself again?” 

See, the only “cool” person I knew about in a wheelchair was Aaron “Wheelz” Fotheringham, a Wheelchair Motor Cross (WCMX) athlete I’d seen on YouTube doing backflips in his wheelchair… So, to 17 year old me, laying tangled in the mud unable to move, and frankly having no idea of the shit-storm I was about to head into, it was the perfect way of continuing to “have fun” and “express my rebellious self”.  To reassure you readers, since then I have learned about this thing called “physics” and broken my neck a second time just by falling over, so that pipe dream is gone now…

As I made my way through the rehabilitation process I started to do research into what my first wheelchair was going to be. It needed to be lightweight and not too wide so I could get in and out of the car by myself.  Naturally, I insisted that it be cool-looking and sought out every opportunity to customise it and make it my own as a way to express myself. As far as lightweight frames went in 2007 there weren't really that many options available, so I ended up with a pretty “generic SCI” grey titanium frame. Therefore, when it came to choosing wheels I was determined to spice things up… *wink*  I got bright red spokes with black hubs and rims… because it was 2007 and the height of being an emo/punk teenager was of course blacks and reds. *dramatic hair flick*

 Over the coming years, I replaced the spokes with numerous different colours, ending up with a set of rainbow spokes (but only on one side, of course, because punk life is all about asymmetry).  I even went as far as to paint my castor forks lime green and hot pink with nail polish to add colour. I was going to make this chair the most fashionable accessory.

I was using the chair to express myself, express my disability and be anything but “just another dull person in a chair” (apologies to all the amazing people I have since met...I don’t know if I’ve ever met a dull person in a chair”). I was back at school and didn’t want people to see the wheelchair as a piece of medical equipment, or a reason to pity me, because to me, it was my freedom. I still just wanted to be a teenager.

Now, I’m not sure if it's because I “grew up” (trust me, I’m still emo/punk in my heart though)  or maybe I just started to “find myself” as an “individual” (such a millennial, *rolls eyes*), but over the years I decided that I wanted the chair to become less of a statement about my personality and blend in more so I could present myself as someone “who just happens to be in a wheelchair”.  The frame slimmed down to fit snug against my hips and the rainbow spokes tuned black (like my heart...jk?). I remember the first time pushing it in a crowded place… People ignored me, and if they did notice me it felt like people we’re looking at “me” and not the chair. I mean, obviously, they were most likely looking at the chair, but I choose to ignore that.  I felt empowered and presented myself with more confidence. 

So where do I sit now on chair expression? (pun intended) I BLOODY LOVE IT! Disability should never be hidden away. No one's disability is the same as someone else’s and everyone experiences it in their own unique way; so for me, I love seeing people rocking bright colours and customising their chairs. Their confidence is contagious, and it takes me back to my early days of being in a chair saying, “This is who I am. And I’m freaking awesome!” 

Is it for me personally? Not right now, no. My metal contraption with wheels is a part of who I am, there is no getting around that. It’s shaped my life and introduced me to previously unimaginable opportunities. But it's only a part of who I am.