On a wheeled horse I ride. i.am.rollerman

Archive for the ‘wheelchair’ Category

You Can’t Kill Me, You Don’t Have the Paperwork

In Life, spinal cord injury, wheelchair on November 6, 2010 at 9:22 pm

Since no "paperwork" was filed that the dog on the left might have been dangerous, please ignore the picture of said dog knawing on a human leg while a man on crutches passes to the right.

Wait, did I just read that?

An Ulster Dutchess County NY man has been sentenced to six months in jail for killing a dog.   PLEASE: I am in no way condoning this guy’s behavior, but the Judge’s “key point” (his words, not mine) on his verdict in this trial was whether the dog was dangerous.

Quote  from the Kingston Daily Freeman:

“…The justice said that, while there was ample testimony that the dog was mean and aggressive, there was no finding by the court that the dog posed any danger.

Earlier in the article, the dog’s owner states:

“…Humphrey (the deceased) was kept chained in a garage on the property because Sturgess (the dog’s OWNER) had said the dog was aggressive.

Further from the Judge:

“The fact is there was no complaint, no paperwork filed on that dog,” Smith said. “A citizen cannot say, ‘That’s a dangerous dog.’  …”  

So,  since no one saw a rationale need to report this to the authorities, thus their justification is baseless?

“Hello, I’d like to report an angry dog.”   Authorities: “You’re calling…why, Sir are you high?”

“Hello, I’d like to report an angry dog.”   Authorities: “Sir, did you realize calling on a frivolous matter is a felony?”

“Hello, I’d like to report an angry dog.”   Authorities: “Tell him to lick himself, I do that when I’m angry…or I wish I could, at least”

Maybe I should have fallen on the pavement

After five years with the same wheelchair cushion (aka “fart magnet”) and seat back, it finally needs to be replaced.  I receive an email from my wheelchair supplier, “…the new cushion and seat back will be $365.00.”

Now, i’ve already met my annual $2K out of pocket deductible AND $2K out of pocket medical durable goods deductible (yes that’s $4K in ADDITION to my $6.5K premium, so I’m well past $11K, that just ME individually) so I’m thinking this most likely be covered at 100%

Silly man!  Up charge! I must pay a premium of $365 in order to get the item prescribed to me.

You see I apparently made a poor decision six years ago to get a higher end more durable wheelchair than the insurance company felt necessary.   I figured, I’m only going to be in the thing ALL DAY, that I’ll spend $4K of my OWN money to UPGHARGE to a better model. (Finally tally: insurance company $1.8K + me: $4.5K = Wheelchair: $5.3K)

So the same hypocrites that stress preventative care want to fiscally punish me again for having selected a chair that has most likely prevented a $20K surgery on my clickety-click clavicles?    Throw me a bone, as in two clavicle replacements.

Ignore the Man behind the curtain in the wheelchair

I’m not supposed to be in the blustery NY MSA this week.  I’m supposed to be in Southwest Florida.  Back in the business travel saddle again after a six year hiatus.

It was not in the cards.  My mind the victim of a vicious slap flight with my bodies’ auto immune system.  My Left Foot?  Hell, my entire left leg, bigger than Oprah’s during season three.   My left heel currently playing fresh air parent to a tennis ball sized blister.

I’m on the mend.  3X daily hits of Keflex and Carnation Instant Breakfast taken orally, not topically you big silly.

Fun Paraplegic Factoid

You can take an air gun and drive a nail through my leg, no pain here. Run a 747 over my foot, nope, can’t feel it.

It’s cold and blustery out, I can feel the cold, so shut the f’in door already!

Four Festering Future Posts

I’ve got four topics that I’m now working on now that warrant dedicated blog posts.   Tell me which one first:

Hair-icuda.  My home is overrun with them.

Sallie Mae. No, not a mentally challenged former girlfriend, rather Freddie Mac’s stalker sister.

The Land of Tat: The magical final destination of many household items

WTF with all the packaging? I’m congested.  Now I’m congested, have a gash on my thumb and think I have carpal tunnel syndrome.

Scratch a dog behind the ears, they love it.  Send me A COMMENT below.  C”mon it only takes a minute and you don’t have the paperwork to put me down.


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In My Dreams I am a Dancer, that’s just the Impression That I Get

In spinal cord injury, wheelchair on October 28, 2010 at 12:21 am

Not the ballroom dances that I learned attending classes with our dinner club back in the mid-90’s or the graceful moves that I could make on ice skates.  I could out skate anyone….not bad for a guy now 6’2″ and 225+. * (*Truth be told I’m self taught. I’ve got the movie “Ice Castles” in my DVD collection)

I don’t dream that I am Fred Astaire, Baryshnikov or one of the pillow-biters on Dancing with the Stars.

No, in my dreams I am Ben Carr.  If you don’t know who Ben Carr is, you’ve probably seen him but never knew his name.  Carr is the dancing guy for the Boston based Ska band the “Mighty Mighty BossTones.”

Carr is not exactly graceful, but he is inventive. His interpretation, I believe, is based solely on what he hears. His inspiration, most likely the joy he feels when listening the BossTones.

Carr, then a follower of the BossTones was added to the band one evening after a club owner wanted him to leave after helping the band setup because he was under 21. Frontman Dicky Barrett told the club owner that Carr was “with the band.” Thus Carr’s stint as the band’s dancer began.

See Carr’s dancing through out the Bosstones’ video “The Impression that I Get.”

My days are not spent worrying that I won’t walk again. I know I will. Friends tell me they have dreams of me walking again.  I just don’t want to walk, I want to dance like Ben Carr.

Crusader for the Non Bi-Pedal, On a Wheeled Horse I Ride.

In Life, wheelchair on October 9, 2010 at 6:28 pm

I am out on my weekly self appointed crusade to patrol the parking spots deemed worthy only for us wheeled class.

My first three stops: CVS, Staples and Wal-Mart.   Wal-Mart, normally a Hedin of faux parkers is unusually quiet.  With ample parking and no gawkers in sight, I decide to dismount.

Backing into a van accessible spot, out of nowhere, an unmanned shopping cart meanders in to my line of sight.   I have now backed my van into the shopping cart which is now sandwiched between a concrete post and the back of my van.  I have wounded my mount.

Unlike the other dents, caused by anonymous idiots who didn’t feel it their responsibility to stop and report their sin or at least leave a note on my window shield (which of course I am not able to reach.)

If they were literate and had the common courtesy to leave a note, it would most likely read:

“Dear Handicapped Van Driver,

I am sure that you are most likely already bitter, having to still drive a pimped out MiniVan with your children all raised.  True, most men of your socio- demo and economic class are driving Cobalt Blue Audi A2 convertibles. (Me, I drive a Benz.)

So me saying “sorry” is a waste of both of our time.  You see, I need that time since I now must waddle into the store and stand in line to purchase the new “Gears of War” video game.   It looks amazing on my 50 inch flat panel.  You can’t believe what you can afford when you’re on public assistance.  Now excuse me while I can still go and purchase a soda with my food stamps.

P.S. OK, I did hit your car, but don’t be a hater.

Signed: A large majority of today’s population

True, I am pissed, but I am also amazed that this individual could fit all this with no misspellings on a Popeye’s Chicken store receipt.

My final stop, Sam’s Club.    The parking lot is three quarters empty.  None of the handicapped spots are occupied, except for one.  Parked DIAGONALLY across a Van accessible Handicapped Spot, clearly marked “FOR VANS ONLY,” is a 2009 Cobalt Blue Audi A2 Convertible.

The plate has none of the required handicapped logos.  It’s a New Jersey Veterans of Foreign War’s Plate with a Purple Heart Insignia.   There is also a sticker on the car’s bumper that reads, verbatim “Recipient of a Purple Heart.”  Just to give them the benefit of the doubt, I wheel around to the front of the car.  Bingo! No placard hanging from the front window either.

In Rehab and in life I’ve met several veterans and police officers who have been wounded while servicing duty.  None of these individuals wanted to talk of their experiences or injuries without ample prodding. Even after much prodding these individuals still down play their contributions and hope to once again hide their wounds.

Now fuming,  (I would also be frothing at the mouth too, but I was dehydrated from my dosage of Lasix)  I retreat back into Crip Force One, disguising myself as one of the bucket seats, hoping to catch a glimpse of this individual.    I wait about an hour.  The parking lot empties and then once again fills, but still the Audi A2 convertible remains.

I decide to take this recon mission mobile, exiting the van and entering the store, hoping to locate Commander Pant Load.

The smooth polished concrete floors of Sam’s Club are my license to thrill, allowing me to scour the store in under five minutes.   Apparently I am traveling so fast that one my Wife’s friends, shopping at that time found it necessary to report me and to let her know of my “recklessness.” (a topic of several upcoming blog posts.)

Little does my the Mrs know, but I wasn’t even in my motorized chair, I was in my manual chair, propelling myself.  There is a difference.

Having searched all of the aisles and discovering no one I exit the store  As I make my way through the gauntlet of can shaking children in their various school paraphernalia cluttering the front exit (the norm at most stores), I have, who I believe is the perp in my sight.

An older gentleman with a full head of gray hair topped off with a VFW purple sidehat.  He’s wearing a purple VFW jacket as well with a Purple Heart Insignia.  Around his neck is an Italian Horn pendant hanging from a gold chain.   He reminds me more of an Atlantic City Casino worker than an honored war veteran.

I’ve seen this guy before, as a matter of fact, every time I’ve been to this Sam’s Club.  He is sitting at a card table selling chances to win $100K in a raffle to benefit Veterans of Foreign Wars.

A young Mother with two in tow approaches the card table, reaching into her purse.  Without warning her young  Son stumbles and falls into the card table.   Quicker than I can say “I smell a fraud” this former Rambo, is able to launch from his chair and prevent the card table from toppling.

Something smells bad at Sam’s Club, and this time that smell is not coming from me.    I could be wrong; he might have fought in the “Sham Offensive.