Trashing Our Crib

November, 2020

One of the mad rushes you’ll need to deal with shortly after your diagnosis is the impact the disease will have on your humble abode. Where you had before scoured the world wide web for nsfw tweets, cartoons, and worse, you are now searching for ramps and grab bars. You are also being torn away from nerve racking financial planning to reviewing your handyman’s invoice which he has thoughtfully hand written with a Sharpie on the inside of a manila folder.

Although St. Laurel and I live in a single story home, there are enough steps to stop even the most souped up wheelchair in its tracks. Ramps, then, became the first order of business. And do we have ramps. Some of which we even use.

The front door ramp replaced a temporary that I had built for a wheeled family member for holiday gatherings. The handyman built ramp had to be rebuilt after one rain season because the wood was not suitable for outside use and had seriously delaminated. The handyman’s earlier suggestion of an overhang at our stately entrance was deemed aesthetically wanting. Instead, younger brother, who is an expert wood worker, replaced the delaminated mess with marine grade plywood (which ain’t cheap) and slathered it with grit and countless coats of waterproofing. Fortunately, the handyman’s support structure remained quite serviceable which was fortunate because it had been bolted into the concrete. The finished product now easily withstands our paltry rain and the combined weight of a 420 lb wheelchair and its cargo of 170 lbs of chuck roast.

For some stupid reason lost on me now, we had our handyman build a ramp out to the garage. I think it was during the period when I could still push buttons and I could use this egress and ingress on my own. That must have been it. How else to explain the wifi enabled bolt lock? The ramps themselves were courtesy of the Internet, were dutifully bolted to the garage floor by said handyman, and have promised to go nowhere. Good thing because one of my early journeys down the ramp left me and my wheelchair hanging off the side with no one to help. Fortunately I had the good sense to derail next to a metal shelf, itself dutifully bolted to the wall. Using the playground skills learned in my youth, I dismounted my now off the rails chair. Freed of its payload I was able to maneuver it back on course. I remounted and was soon on my way.

Said handyman also poured a concrete ramp allowing passage from the garage to the side yard. This way I can go from the house through the garage to the backyard assuming St. Laurel has moved the Subaru.

Back when I could make a colorable attempt at standing I had grab bars installed anywhere they could be useful, and a few other places besides. Again the playground skills came in handy as I used the bars to travel from wheelchair to porcelain chair like a graceless chimp. The shower was similarly configured as my last attempt at independence. The bars now stand useless except when pressed into service as a drying rack or similar utility.

I’ll leave for another time the damage I’ve done learning how to pilot the LazyBoy on Wheels through the narrow hallway and doorways of our beleaguered house. For now I’ll return you to your holiday preparations and leave you wishes for a happy new year.