Author: Sheri Denkensohn-Trott
Sometimes I feel like I’m auditioning for a new reality show called “Demolition Derby.” This is likely not surprising to those who know me. My nickname at my former job was “Speedy,” because I roll quickly and keep my chair at the fastest setting. This is a good idea when I’m out rolling in the bike lane, but probably not the best around the house (the walls show it), in an ACCESSIBLE store (I have dragged some clothing racks around), getting in and out of my van (I have gone off the ramp several times), and many others. My most epic story is caused by talking and driving. I was at the US Supreme Court for oral arguments and was talking to my friend as I was rolling out to the ramp. The white marble made it hard to see the difference between ramp and steps, and before I knew it, I was flying down steps. Luckily, guards were present and within seconds they grabbed me, had my chair in place, and I was sitting up. My poor friend almost passed out while I wheeled along my merry way. Even after all that, overall, I’m viewed as a good wheelchair driver. With exceptions, the following being one of them.

There are many trials and tribulations I have written about when you get a new wheelchair. It is like getting a new body because everything changes. One thing that changes is the set up for my desk, because it must be revamped to fit with the height and width of my chair, the design of the joystick (that is what is used to drive), and my tray that holds my book with my phone and something to drink or eat. Even with my new and well thought out design of my desk, for some reason, there have been a few incidents when I am driving forward and I go too far, hitting my joystick against the desk and my stomach hard against the wooden shelf that holds the keyboard. My wheels start spinning in place and the pressure on my abdomen nearly makes me pass out. This doesn’t happen frequently, but has occurred on a few occasions. I’m able to call for Tony or my attendant to come to the office. After grasping that I have done this again, they take my chair out of gear and are able to manually move it away from the desk. That allows me to sit up and slowly regain my ability to think straight.

Unfortunately, many times my joystick is bent out of shape and in a position that it makes it impossible to drive. That means it is unusable until I get it fixed or at least jury-rigged so it is drivable. Fortunately, in most cases my husband, one of my aides, or a good friend from upstairs in my building is around to help. So, it hasn’t been a huge issue, although it is a little scary at the time. Yes, I am mad at myself and laughing at the same time.

The most recent time this occurred I called the wheelchair repair company that knows me and one of the technicians calls me “Demolition Derby” for all of my “interesting” adventures that result in him having to make a fix. When the receptionist got my message, I said that I needed my joystick fixed because I was in a “Demolition Derby.” In this instance the joystick was pretty bent out of shape, but luckily my neighbor was at least able to get it to where it was drivable. I went to the shop the next day and it was fixed within five minutes. The technicians and I joked about my “Demolition Derby” status. The receptionist laughed because she thought that I had been competing in an actual Demolition Derby. Hilarious. I don’t know if such tournaments for wheelchairs exist but given the choice I’d rather be stuck under my desk and have it as a nickname.