Yesterday I spent all day editing photos and then decided it was time to take time for myself. I had two Blingo movie tickets burning a hole in my pocket, so I went to see “Man of the Year” with Robin Williams. I’m saving the other one for next month when Will Ferrell’s “Stranger than Fiction” comes out.
I sat in the somewhat sparse theatre and observed my surroundings as one does on a night out alone on the town. Right before the movie began, I noticed a woman and a young girl in a wheelchair arrive and sit in the handicap section two rows ahead of me. The girl chose her spot next to the woman’s chair when the woman suddenly stood and directed her to the other side of the handicapped row. “What in the hell is that woman doing? Surely she’s not embarrassed to be seen with her. Maybe she’s just got bad gas.”
Minutes later, a group of three people came into the theater led by a boy in another wheelchair. This boy was different, though. His wheelchair was much larger, and he had a breathing tube trailing from his windpipe down his chest. His arms were unnaturally curled with paralysis and muscle atrophy. He took the spot that the girl orginally chose next to the woman.
During the movie previews, I studied the back of his chair. The green and red LED’s on the equipment facing me were hypnotic. The digits in red etched into my brain: 50, 0.1, 60. I watched a horizontal green LED shoot to the right and fall back as if he were his very own stereo equalizer listening to soft rock. Except the green bar was timing his breathing, in and out, in and out. Soon my own breaths synchronized with his and my chest tightened.
What must it be like to have a child who would die if this chair didn’t breathe for him, and a child who would be immobile for the same life saving device?
It’s amazing how lucky we are to live in these times. Sometimes I wish for simpler times, for less crowding and crime, anger and road rage. Perhaps I would thrive if the year were 1850 instead of 2006. But I dismiss it from my mind because there are too many benefits and rights and freedoms that we have become so accustomed to that we take them for granted.
I can vote.
I can own property.
I can receive an education past high school.
I can say anything I want and know it is protected by free speech.
I can choose to practice or not practice the religion of my choice.
I can take my child to the hospital and expect lifesaving treatment.
Yep, it appears that my Thanksgiving came early this year thanks to one little boy and his wheelchair. Pass me a drumstick, would you?
