going down the ramp. faster all the time. HAve to get out. The fire roars behind as you speed downward into a smoky abyss. get out! get out! You have to survive. you have to! Roll out!
I sat there completely still and looked at it. I didn’t want to get in the wheelchair because that was admitting defeat. I would have to be pushed around, completely helpless. Like a baby attached to an ubillical I would be completely dependent on another. All my years spent trying to prove I was man enough to my father, completely independent and self-sustaining. It struck me to the core just thinking about being attached to this simple machine
A way to get around for the disabled. Used mostly by the elderly. Manual and motorized.expensive.something you hope you will never need. A way to mobilizefor the people who can not do themselves.
My dad has one. Never had a real need for it, but he had one. The irony is, that one day it almost caused him to need it permanently. I wouldn’t blame the wheelchair though, it’s more my father’s lack of care when using it. He never liked to put the brakes down. That was how the happiest day of my parents’ lives, almost turned to tragedy. The wheelchair sits quietly now, tucked away in the back of the house.
Stuck in this wheelchair for the past four months………….At first, the transfers were terrifying. Pain and fear ruled the day. My life revolved around the toilet. Now, I walk with a non-functional gait, not really going anywhere. Someday I will be able to run down the street to the Senior Center. At least in my mind. Lord, keep me on the beam.
It was hard, lifting him out of the wheelchair. He wanted to help, but the very pressure of his powerful arms hoisting himself from the chair made getting hold of him difficult. It would have been easier if he’d been content to flop helplessly, but that wasn’t his way. it was never his way.
It pained him that he was stuck in this sorrowful predicament. Mother, when he was six, always spoke of a future in sports, father spoke of futures in the family business of carpentry. How could he amount to anything, if he could not even overcome the stairs?
A chair people who are unable to walk use to transport themselves.
I have had one myself. I had bad legs once. now I am 19 and I walk perfectly. I like it now. But I enjoyed my wheelchair, too. It was fun.
He is brought in in a wheelchair because he tripped, but he is quite sure this doesn’t limit him in what he is supposed to do. Computers require no legs, anyway.
The way some people park their cars half on the pavement, others leave rubbish where one can trip over it. I always thinks it must be a nightmare negotiating these obstacles if your are in a wheelchair.
If I was stuck in a wheelchair I would changed to a motorised one. And a smart one that lifted you up to other people’s eye level. If I could I would rather get prosthetis limbs. I would live somewhere flat wheee I could get about, and do arm strengthens exercises and play wheelchair games.
Augustus started using the wheel chqir when even his prosthetic leg couldn’t help him in carrying his own weigh. Hazel started to feel that the person with a happy go lucky temperament and the crooked smile was drifting away.
The wheelchair was on its side, Lily lay on the ground next to it.
“Lily!” I cry, rushing to her side. Once I tipped it back up and put her back in it, I sigh. It stresses me to no end when it comes to Lily tipping her wheelchair.
I sat back in my chair, ignoring people who were staring and whispering. It was not my fault my little girl kept tipping herself out of her wheelchair, she simply does not know better due to brain damage.
I looked at him-weak-sitting on the wheelchair across the room. He was staring outside the window-the sun emanating through the window, enhancing his features.
it squeaked. The God forsaken thing squeaked every time he turned the wheel. How had this become his life? He was a top runner at one point and how he was a squeaking wheel chair bound decrepit man.
“That sounds like a sweet little mouse” said the young girl. He looked at her. She was dressed in the birthday cake hospital gown. Her wheel chair covered in stickers, and her face filled with a bright smile, despite its sickly pallor.
it squeaked. This wonderful chair squeaked every time he turned the wheel. He made the dying child smile… and found peace himself.
Sitting in the passenger seat, pinned by the remains of the engine block, legs twisted and unbearably numb, I knew I’d spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair; I knew, with every fiber of my being, that I’d never walk again.
But what did it matter, considering the image I saw in the corner of my eye? The red-soaked face of my world, broken and sightless, breathless and…and lifeless.
It was that thought, that image, that realization, that drove me to tears.
Wheelchair races down the slopes of summertime memories long passed, hazy rays and twilight dusk shine through the spokes, and dam did we need it later on.
In the corner stood a rusted wheelchair, auburn spokes twisted into uselessness. It sat, ironically out of place, in the gutted remains of the old hospital. James’ eyes were drawn to the wreckage, wondering how it ended up here. Left behind when the rest of the building was stripped and abandoned.
he never ever wanted to be like this.
so useless. sitting here like some bump on a log.
he used to be worth something. he used to be a hunter. he used to run and help, kneel and bend and stretch and run.
bobby fisher is a man who does not belong in a wheelchair.
god bless castiel.
She hadn’t realized it, but a wheelchair and a transport chair were two different things, and she was laboring to push her uncle in the wrong one, hoping she wouldn’t dump him out onto the manicured lawn of the nicest estate in town.
I see you rolling, waving
and passing through the seasons
with a delightful melancholic smile
quickly painted on those red lips.
I would be able to look at you for hours:
you are blind,
your heart does not beat furiously;
you are so extremely calm,
you are floating among silver clouds.
The rush of the world,
the emotions of life,
doesn’t take you breath away?
She was sitting in the wheelchair. Everything around her seemed to fade away, because all those times she felt bad for the person in the wheelchair had come down to this. It’s sad how people think this way, isn’t it? That they won’t be that person? Yet, here you are. In a wheelchair. How does it feel now? How do think they feel? You don’t have to think because she knew. She knew..
I see a wheelchair, in is a sad person. Another wheelchair contains a person who rises above his limitations. Which kind of person do I want to be. I think, the person who rises above my limitations. Only God can help me so I claim this in the name and power of Jesus Christ.
Assassins and basketball. That’s what came to mind. He would show people wheelchair rentals for post surgery or extended broken bones. He showed them to the children of the elderly. He did not ever remember a really sad case like someone being permanently injured from an early age and requiring a wheelchair to get through life like the Quebec assassins or that guy in the basketball beer commercial who doesn’t stand up although he could just be an actor sitting in a wheelchair (a basketball-playing models with handle rims slanted in) and when the set was through he’d get up and walk on with his life without much thought at all for the truly handicapped, the vain and egotistical narcissism, the bastard, he was a real dick.
im not sure if i can see well. i look at myself and see that its gone. im still seated, but its gone. i look and see it and its empty. still here, but its empty. is this freedom? is this loss? i never wanted to sit in that chair ever again.
His wheelchair was soon stuck in the mud, absolutely caked with the stuff. In desperation he grappled at his legs with his hands, managing to swing them over to the side and into a deeper puddle. But the movement set him off-balance, teetering on the very back edge of his wheels. And this was how he ended up upside-down with only a clear view of the sky as the chaos unfolded around him.
I ran over a man and his dog in a wheelchair! I meant to run him down because I was mad!!!! But I was very sorry later. I went to jail but at least they lived!!!!!
He pushed me in my wheelchair until we got to the store. He stopped, opened the door, and pushed us inside. We browsed through the clothes. Or rather, I did and he just stood there helping me get around. Then we left, off to go to dinner. We’re home now, talking over tea. Just a normal day. Just him being like a husband or a brother or a father, but not just an ordinary boyfriend. Just him giving me so much I can’t give back, and somehow he thinks it is not enough. Just our love, changing the world.
The elevator was out again at the subway. She had to ride two stops over to the next available station with an elevator before she could get out to street level. That meant maneouvering her wheelchair through two additional blocks of ice and snow to get to work.
going down the ramp. faster all the time. HAve to get out. The fire roars behind as you speed downward into a smoky abyss. get out! get out! You have to survive. you have to! Roll out!
I sat there completely still and looked at it. I didn’t want to get in the wheelchair because that was admitting defeat. I would have to be pushed around, completely helpless. Like a baby attached to an ubillical I would be completely dependent on another. All my years spent trying to prove I was man enough to my father, completely independent and self-sustaining. It struck me to the core just thinking about being attached to this simple machine
A way to get around for the disabled. Used mostly by the elderly. Manual and motorized.expensive.something you hope you will never need. A way to mobilizefor the people who can not do themselves.
Happy sitting unable to walk why is this weird what happened to you this is ………..
My dad has one. Never had a real need for it, but he had one. The irony is, that one day it almost caused him to need it permanently. I wouldn’t blame the wheelchair though, it’s more my father’s lack of care when using it. He never liked to put the brakes down. That was how the happiest day of my parents’ lives, almost turned to tragedy. The wheelchair sits quietly now, tucked away in the back of the house.
Stuck in this wheelchair for the past four months………….At first, the transfers were terrifying. Pain and fear ruled the day. My life revolved around the toilet. Now, I walk with a non-functional gait, not really going anywhere. Someday I will be able to run down the street to the Senior Center. At least in my mind. Lord, keep me on the beam.
It was hard, lifting him out of the wheelchair. He wanted to help, but the very pressure of his powerful arms hoisting himself from the chair made getting hold of him difficult. It would have been easier if he’d been content to flop helplessly, but that wasn’t his way. it was never his way.
It pained him that he was stuck in this sorrowful predicament. Mother, when he was six, always spoke of a future in sports, father spoke of futures in the family business of carpentry. How could he amount to anything, if he could not even overcome the stairs?
Someone in need help get people around one place to the next
A chair people who are unable to walk use to transport themselves.
I have had one myself. I had bad legs once. now I am 19 and I walk perfectly. I like it now. But I enjoyed my wheelchair, too. It was fun.
He is brought in in a wheelchair because he tripped, but he is quite sure this doesn’t limit him in what he is supposed to do. Computers require no legs, anyway.
The way some people park their cars half on the pavement, others leave rubbish where one can trip over it. I always thinks it must be a nightmare negotiating these obstacles if your are in a wheelchair.
If I was stuck in a wheelchair I would changed to a motorised one. And a smart one that lifted you up to other people’s eye level. If I could I would rather get prosthetis limbs. I would live somewhere flat wheee I could get about, and do arm strengthens exercises and play wheelchair games.
Augustus started using the wheel chqir when even his prosthetic leg couldn’t help him in carrying his own weigh. Hazel started to feel that the person with a happy go lucky temperament and the crooked smile was drifting away.
she could move as fast as I could run, even in her wheelchair. The small spaces between parked cars were the only obsticiles that would slow her down.
The wheelchair was on its side, Lily lay on the ground next to it.
“Lily!” I cry, rushing to her side. Once I tipped it back up and put her back in it, I sigh. It stresses me to no end when it comes to Lily tipping her wheelchair.
I sat back in my chair, ignoring people who were staring and whispering. It was not my fault my little girl kept tipping herself out of her wheelchair, she simply does not know better due to brain damage.
He always called my wheelchair a push chair and parked me facing the wall. The wally
I looked at him-weak-sitting on the wheelchair across the room. He was staring outside the window-the sun emanating through the window, enhancing his features.
it squeaked. The God forsaken thing squeaked every time he turned the wheel. How had this become his life? He was a top runner at one point and how he was a squeaking wheel chair bound decrepit man.
“That sounds like a sweet little mouse” said the young girl. He looked at her. She was dressed in the birthday cake hospital gown. Her wheel chair covered in stickers, and her face filled with a bright smile, despite its sickly pallor.
it squeaked. This wonderful chair squeaked every time he turned the wheel. He made the dying child smile… and found peace himself.
Sitting in the passenger seat, pinned by the remains of the engine block, legs twisted and unbearably numb, I knew I’d spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair; I knew, with every fiber of my being, that I’d never walk again.
But what did it matter, considering the image I saw in the corner of my eye? The red-soaked face of my world, broken and sightless, breathless and…and lifeless.
It was that thought, that image, that realization, that drove me to tears.
Wheelchair races down the slopes of summertime memories long passed, hazy rays and twilight dusk shine through the spokes, and dam did we need it later on.
standing. never again.
sitting. watching. waiting. wishing.
recovery. not likely.
life in a char.
In the corner stood a rusted wheelchair, auburn spokes twisted into uselessness. It sat, ironically out of place, in the gutted remains of the old hospital. James’ eyes were drawn to the wreckage, wondering how it ended up here. Left behind when the rest of the building was stripped and abandoned.
he never ever wanted to be like this.
so useless. sitting here like some bump on a log.
he used to be worth something. he used to be a hunter. he used to run and help, kneel and bend and stretch and run.
bobby fisher is a man who does not belong in a wheelchair.
god bless castiel.
Rolling
Rolling
My life is Rolling out of control
It’s all downhill
I can’t stop
So I keep on keeping on
Hanging on for “dear” life
She hadn’t realized it, but a wheelchair and a transport chair were two different things, and she was laboring to push her uncle in the wrong one, hoping she wouldn’t dump him out onto the manicured lawn of the nicest estate in town.
A chair that goes anywhere just by scrolling your arms through the wheel
I see you rolling, waving
and passing through the seasons
with a delightful melancholic smile
quickly painted on those red lips.
I would be able to look at you for hours:
you are blind,
your heart does not beat furiously;
you are so extremely calm,
you are floating among silver clouds.
The rush of the world,
the emotions of life,
doesn’t take you breath away?
A way of transpiration to those with a disability. Four wheels.
They zoomed by, left to right to left and on and on. She watched as her children made her prison the most fun thing around.
She was sitting in the wheelchair. Everything around her seemed to fade away, because all those times she felt bad for the person in the wheelchair had come down to this. It’s sad how people think this way, isn’t it? That they won’t be that person? Yet, here you are. In a wheelchair. How does it feel now? How do think they feel? You don’t have to think because she knew. She knew..
I see a wheelchair, in is a sad person. Another wheelchair contains a person who rises above his limitations. Which kind of person do I want to be. I think, the person who rises above my limitations. Only God can help me so I claim this in the name and power of Jesus Christ.
Assassins and basketball. That’s what came to mind. He would show people wheelchair rentals for post surgery or extended broken bones. He showed them to the children of the elderly. He did not ever remember a really sad case like someone being permanently injured from an early age and requiring a wheelchair to get through life like the Quebec assassins or that guy in the basketball beer commercial who doesn’t stand up although he could just be an actor sitting in a wheelchair (a basketball-playing models with handle rims slanted in) and when the set was through he’d get up and walk on with his life without much thought at all for the truly handicapped, the vain and egotistical narcissism, the bastard, he was a real dick.
im not sure if i can see well. i look at myself and see that its gone. im still seated, but its gone. i look and see it and its empty. still here, but its empty. is this freedom? is this loss? i never wanted to sit in that chair ever again.
The wheelchair sat behind him now, six feet away. It wasn’t much, but it was the furthest he’d been separated from it in over six years.
The tears his mother cried could not match the way his heart was leaping in his chest, the feeling of his toes wriggling in his shoes.
His wheelchair was soon stuck in the mud, absolutely caked with the stuff. In desperation he grappled at his legs with his hands, managing to swing them over to the side and into a deeper puddle. But the movement set him off-balance, teetering on the very back edge of his wheels. And this was how he ended up upside-down with only a clear view of the sky as the chaos unfolded around him.
I ran over a man and his dog in a wheelchair! I meant to run him down because I was mad!!!! But I was very sorry later. I went to jail but at least they lived!!!!!
I am in a wheelchair. I cannot move. My feet are numb with cold. There is no way to warm them. It is a beautiful day, just freezing.
He pushed me in my wheelchair until we got to the store. He stopped, opened the door, and pushed us inside. We browsed through the clothes. Or rather, I did and he just stood there helping me get around. Then we left, off to go to dinner. We’re home now, talking over tea. Just a normal day. Just him being like a husband or a brother or a father, but not just an ordinary boyfriend. Just him giving me so much I can’t give back, and somehow he thinks it is not enough. Just our love, changing the world.
The elevator was out again at the subway. She had to ride two stops over to the next available station with an elevator before she could get out to street level. That meant maneouvering her wheelchair through two additional blocks of ice and snow to get to work.