I Am In a Wheelchair
After I accepted that I was paralyzed I was prepared for much,- but not this.
Some time now into the rest of my life, I have realized that my legs are perfect. Perfectly smooth, perfectly soft. All the bumps and scratches and bruises that normal functional legs get are gone now. The muscles that once stood out on my legs are gone now, atrophied. The skin is baby soft.
But the real surprise is the soles of my feet. No one warned me about this, no one prepared me for this. The soles of my feet are baby soft and smooth. I noticed this recently when I tried to transfer from a smooth wood floor back into my wheelchair. My feet slid. There was no traction. And I realized that what gives feet traction on smooth floors is the calluses on their soles. I remembered feeling the bottom of my feet when I was walking and how they had groves, calluses, character, roughness.
I remembered being tickled between my toes
I remembered the feeling of sand between my toes.
And as I was rubbing lotion into my feet I realized that the soles are now just like they were when I was a baby;- before I was walking. Smooth, silky smooth.
My body is like a pool of water left on a beach during a high tide- a pool of shallow, warm, tortoise water. As the tide recedes, this pool which was once connected to the sea- once a part of the sea-- loses its connection to the sea. At first, there is a tiny river of water trickling between the pool and the receding tide, but soon the tidal pool has lost its connection.
I am the sea and my legs are the tidal pool. I can see the sea but am not connected to it any more. Just as a the sun heats the isolated pool of water left over after the high tide and it dries up and disappears, my legs have died.
But they are still smooth and perfect in their own way. Or are they?
Does anyone out here know how I feel?
Some time now into the rest of my life, I have realized that my legs are perfect. Perfectly smooth, perfectly soft. All the bumps and scratches and bruises that normal functional legs get are gone now. The muscles that once stood out on my legs are gone now, atrophied. The skin is baby soft.
But the real surprise is the soles of my feet. No one warned me about this, no one prepared me for this. The soles of my feet are baby soft and smooth. I noticed this recently when I tried to transfer from a smooth wood floor back into my wheelchair. My feet slid. There was no traction. And I realized that what gives feet traction on smooth floors is the calluses on their soles. I remembered feeling the bottom of my feet when I was walking and how they had groves, calluses, character, roughness.
I remembered being tickled between my toes
I remembered the feeling of sand between my toes.
And as I was rubbing lotion into my feet I realized that the soles are now just like they were when I was a baby;- before I was walking. Smooth, silky smooth.
My body is like a pool of water left on a beach during a high tide- a pool of shallow, warm, tortoise water. As the tide recedes, this pool which was once connected to the sea- once a part of the sea-- loses its connection to the sea. At first, there is a tiny river of water trickling between the pool and the receding tide, but soon the tidal pool has lost its connection.
I am the sea and my legs are the tidal pool. I can see the sea but am not connected to it any more. Just as a the sun heats the isolated pool of water left over after the high tide and it dries up and disappears, my legs have died.
But they are still smooth and perfect in their own way. Or are they?
Does anyone out here know how I feel?
By:
Martha1982
Age:
26-30
,
Female
