My arch enemy- stairs. The barrier that people with working legs hardly even think about. They are everywhere. In the foothills of the mountains there are even more.
Tonight it was one single stair. I had talked to the school secretary about back to school night because our school is on three levels. There is a ramp to the main level and an elevator to the second (locked so kids can’t use it). But the kindergarten and first grade classrooms are down a flight of stairs. There is an outside entrance which I thought had no stairs so I was told the door would be unlocked for me so I could enter that way.
Not only were the doors locked but there was a stair. I live in fear of stairs with my wheelchair- I don’t like being tipped so far to get up a stair. Even small lips at the end of driveways are concerning. Others don’t notice them but I certainly feel it when I have to grab on quick to keep from being dumped to the ground.
My husband had to push me over to the ramp, up into the office, to the secretary who had to get the maintenance man to meet us at the doors. Then we had to go back outside, down the ramp and back to the doors. Then Chad had to get my chair up the stair and through two locked doors so I could get into the kindergarten room.
Today I started out feeling strong. I’d actually make it to three out of four back to school functions this week. I ended feeling weak and helpless. All around me were people walking quickly up and down stairs without a thought. I had to have the help of a wheelchair, the janitor, and my husband. All I want to do is stay home where I can pretend I’m normal.
All my worries rush back to me. What if they call home sick and I can’t drive that day? What if I can’t find someone to push me up the ramp to sign them out? What if I wake up paralyzed and can’t get my kindergartner ready for school? I know the last one is likely to happen repeatedly.
The only thing I can do is push my worries aside. School is looming on the horizon. My kids are excited to have something to do instead of sitting home all day every day while Mom lays in bed. They will be happier there. It will be good for them. Somehow God will see me through. Somehow the kids will help each other, be independent, and make it there and back even when Mom can’t help.
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