Getting around (part 1)

My wheelchair is a big part of my life; it's a substitute for my legs.  I received my first wheelchair when I was five years old and in kindergarten.  Before my wheelchair, I couldn't get around independently at all.  I could walk a little bit with my family and friends but it was a lot of effort to go a small distance. In my wheelchair, I could keep up and even stay ahead of them.  I'm currently using my fourth electric wheelchair and third manual wheelchair.  Either I’ll outgrow the wheelchair or it will break down.

It wasn't easy learning to drive my chair.  It was similar to learning how to drive a car, but at age five.  I had to watch where I was going and avoid crashing into people and objects.  Other challenges included how to cross the street, knowing the locations of curb ramps, learning what surfaces I could easily go over, and which ones would trap me.  I had to convince my hand muscles to do what I wanted and how to move in a straight line.

If it was hard to learn, it was also hard to watch me. Ruth, my former physiotherapist, speaks of her reaction as follows:

"I have watched with my stomach churning as Shawna managed her first endeavour at driving her wheelchair along a straight sidewalk in a weaving pattern, approaching the precipice of the sidewalk ledge, defying the laws of human reflexes, and recovering from a fall.  I think, in many ways, it would be the same as the first steps of a child learning to walk.  It is a challenge and a right.  I am sure her mother watched with more bravery than I."

Actually, I’ve been using a wheelchair longer than I’ve been walking. The first time I walked, I was sitting in the living room and decided to use the bathroom. I stood up to see how far I could get on my own. I took one step and thought, "If I take another step, I'll fall down or lose my balance," but I decided to take another step and see what happened. The next step didn't make me fall and neither did the next one, or the one after that. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother. I couldn't look at her without losing my balance so I kept my eyes straight ahead. As I made it through the bathroom door, mom started crying. I told her that I felt like a baby taking her first steps. Mom phoned my physiotherapist that very moment to share the exciting news. I was so proud of myself. I started walking around the main floor of our house to make my legs stronger. It is easier to be in my electric wheelchair than to walk everywhere, but I can do it, even though doctors said I would never walk.