They Gave Me the Electric Chair

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I was only 15 when I broke my fuckin neck, so of course, I did a half-assed job of it. I have what is called an incomplete spinal injury. Basically fully paralyzed on my right side, and weakened left side.

38 years later, other than flat un-carpeted, land I never really got good at moving swiftly in a manual wheelchair. I’m actually downright slow in most outside-world situations.

It’s gotten to the point where I choose not to leave my house more than a couple of days a week. Working from home and being a recluse is a big part of that equation, though not too long ago my insurance bought me a power wheelchair to make this quad’s life a little easier. It’s a bitchen Quantum chair with lots of bells and whistles.

Part of me, at times, is hesitant to cruise the power chair. Mostly because I feel as though I am somehow being weak, or a pussy. A feeling that I should soldier on and not allow myself to rely on something other than my own ability allows. I have a fear that using a power chair will lead to diminishing strength due to reducing my physical activity.

But, fuck that boring, touchy-feely crap I need to get back out there and party.

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