California Dreamin’

We were sitting in the waiting room at the wheelchair vendor, Dear Son, his Dad and I. They had taken Dear Son’s new wheelchair to make a few alterations to make it easier for me. We had been waiting over an hour when the young woman walked out of the back room and over to the receptionist. She walked by us and I hadn’t paid that much attention until Dear Son started getting very loud and restless. He was vocalizing quite a bit, at the top of his lungs, and I admit I was quite surprised. He’s normally not very loud when we are out. He’s been quite happy lately, ever since his birthday and Christmas parties. His physical abilities remain unchanged, he can’t weight bear, he can’t roll over, he can’t swallow but his, ahem, hormones seemed to be just fine.

It took me a minute before I realized that the reason for his vocalizations had to do with the young lady that had just walked by. Dad was trying to quiet him down when I mentioned that I thought he liked that young girl. Dad was not sure and dismissed that idea; Dear Son however, gave me a quick glance, dropping his head and smiling so I knew I was right on the money. I explained to Dad that Dear Son likes to go out in the hallway at school and watch the beautiful high school girls. He especially likes it when they take him out into the hallway, when they are changing classes, so he can watch. That’s what his teacher tells me.

The young woman left the room and he soon settled down. She hadn’t paid any attention to him however it didn’t seem to matter. He was doing what other teenage boys do, doing anything they can to get the attention of a beautiful girl. When I explained to the receptionist that he liked “that” girl, I found out “that girl” happened to be her daughter. She laughed and said she would let her know.

We waited some more and Dear Son remained bored. The waiting room was filled with wheelchairs of every size, shape and very little color. There were at least fifty different kinds of chairs in there, mostly pediatric wheelchairs and nearly all of them black. There were standers and walkers in there too. Some were so small, that I couldn’t help but feel sad for those little children. I know that when Dear Son got his first walker, he was thrilled, because it meant freedom, but it never really worked for him since his arms and hands didn’t work and he was never able to hold onto the walker. Still, I couldn’t help but feel bad, since I would much prefer that all children could walk on their own, and not have to use these wheelchairs.

We were waiting quietly when the repair man came zooming by us, testing a pediatric power wheelchair he was working on. He was going fast, and quickly exited the large automatic door. Dear Son perked up in his wheelchair and tried to strain his neck to see where he might be going. He was laughing and carrying on much to Dad’s dismay. I explained to him that many years ago at school, there was a computer software program that Dear Son liked with a character called, “Speedy”. Speedy drove a red power wheelchair and got into all kinds of situations. Dear Son operated the program with a head pointer. Dear Son smiled when I mentioned it.

I thought for a minute and then said I would ask if Dear Son could try a power wheelchair. Dad thought it was a waste of time but I thought it might be fun for Dear Son to wheel around in one, just to try it out. After all, he was a teenage boy and what do teenage boys like better than trying out a new set of wheels. My mind quickly raced to the image of a young man at a new car showroom, dreaming about a new sports car, and taking it for a test drive, knowing full well, he couldn’t afford it. It was that image, when I decided Dear Son needed to take a test drive.

We knew a long time ago, that a power chair was never really a choice for Dear Son, for many reasons that I won’t explain here. But we had an opportunity today, to have some fun.

The repair man entered the storefront again and stopped right in front of Dear Son. I asked if we might be able to try out one of the power chairs. He was going on break and offered to let us use the chair for fifteen minutes. I lifted Dear Son into the chair and we were soon in motion. His hands and arms do not work but I placed his hand on the joystick anyway and moved it with my hand over his as I walked beside him. Dear Son loved it. We had a lot of fun driving around the show room, which was empty. I told him that if he had one of these chairs I would never catch him. We horsed around some more and killed some time. Soon our fifteen minutes was up and Dear Son was totally exhausted and quickly fell asleep.

As I sat in the showroom, I thought about Dear Son and how much he enjoyed the afternoon. I thought about what it was to be a teenage boy while he slept. Sometimes, when you are fifteen, a great day is looking at the beautiful girls, taking a new set of wheels for a spin, and then going home and dreaming of what might have been.