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Home / Stories / Fiction / Trip to the grocery store

Trip to the grocery store

Written by Sean on Thursday, October 6, 2005

This is a bit of a trip to the grocery store from hell. The story is based on real life events, though I was never unlucky enough to have all that happen to me on the same day. Each and every experience described in the story, however, has happened on one or more occasion. It departs from my usual stories in that it has no romantic interest, and <gasp> no sex! As usual, I welcome feedback.

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It was the end of a long day at work, and he had planned to stop at the grocery store on the way home from work. He didn’t need much, but he did need some basic staples. The sun had been out, but a cover of clouds was hiding the blue skies. The light had a strange quality to it, very bright, with an almost green tinge to it. It felt like a storm was brewing, yet it didn’t look like there was enough cloud, nor wind, to make it a real storm.

He was thinking about what he needed to pick up. Of course, he had forgotten to write a list. But he didn’t really need a list, there were things he always purchased. Soft drinks, ramen noodles, potatoes, orange juice, bread, peanut butter, mac ‘n cheese, the kind of stuff that doesn’t require much cooking. He was a good cook, but could never be bothered to cook for himself.

The car in front of him suddenly braked, for no apparent reason. That startled him and as he placed pressure on the hand control for his car to stop, his bladder had a spasm. He didn’t feel the urine leak out, but he knew something had happened. When he could look down, he saw a wet stain on his pants, and was glad to have a liquid-proof cover over the car seat. He was angry at the car in front of him. And angry at himself for not having cathed before leaving the office. This meant he actually had to go home before coming back to the store. In turn, it also meant that he would have to do two extra transfers that he could have avoided by going straight to the store.

He turned around the corner on the street where his rental house was. As usual, the garbage wheelie bin had been left right smack in the middle of his driveway. Every week, on “garbage day”, the waste disposal company would come by, empty the bins, and leave them in the middle of the driveways. This wouldn’t have been such a problem, if he had been able to jump out of the car and move the bin quickly. As it was, wet with urine, hot and tired after a long day, the prospect of two more transfers in order to move the bin just did not appeal to him.

For a moment he considered just playing stock car with his car and the bin, ram the thing out of the way, but the potential for damage was too great. So he pulled up on the street, and turned off the engine. He reclined his seat so he could reach the chair in the back seat. He opened the car door, reached behind him with his left hand, while his right hand grabbed the roof of the car for support. Braced by his right arm, he grabbed the rigid frame of his ultra light wheelchair, and lifted it until it was above his chest. At that point, he let go of the roof with his right arm, grabbed the chair, and let go with his left hand. He braced himself by grabbing the headrest of the passenger side, and deposited the frame on the pavement. The practice of doing this several times every day made it look easy, and quick. Yet, it was tough on his body. With only 4 transfers in and out of the car, 6 days a week (pretty average), he was lifting nearly 13 tons every year! Ultra light chair of course, yet, it all added up.

Now that his frame was out of the car, he grabbed his wheels, in a similar way. Brace, grab, change hand, brace, drop wheels. He pulled himself upright by holding on the steering wheel, and pulled the latch to have the seat spring back to its upright position. Leaning against the back seat, he used his hands to grab his legs, one at a time, and deposit them outside the car. He swivelled so he was sitting properly at the side of the car, legs sticking out. He leaned and reached forward to grab his chair’s frame. While he was leaning with his chest against his knees, he grabbed one wheel with his left hand, and mounted it on the frame. He did the same with the right wheel. Pushing against his knees, he sat up and reached behind him for his cushion.

They had told him it was a very comfortable cushion, but how the hell could he tell? He couldn’t feel a thing from right below his ribcage. Wasn’t he, after all, a paraplegic with a T10 lesion? He still couldn’t see how the company could justify selling the cushion for $400, but he was glad that he had the cushion in question, as he had avoided a dreaded pressure sore.

With the cushion now properly in place, he positioned the wheelchair so he could to his transfer, and hope to all heavens he wouldn’t miss and land with his butt on the ground. He really should be using a transfer board, but he couldn’t be bothered with it. Someday in the not too distant future, he knew his shoulders would be giving up on him, and it wouldn’t be an option anymore. In the meantime, he enjoyed his “freedom”. Part of him knew that if he used the transfer board now, he would be keeping his shoulders “intact” for a while longer. “Nothing like living in the present”, he thought, “you never know when you’re going to die!”.

He reached the right side of the chair with his right hand, and had to lean a little bit. He grabbed the backrest of his driver’s seat with his left hand, and heaved himself over into his wheelchair. Having no abdominal or lower back muscle, his lower end always sagged behind a little bit, and often didn’t clear the cushion on his wheelchair. Sometimes, he had to rearrange the cushion while he was sitting in it. Other times, he just had to transfer again.

As he finished his transfer, the neighbour’s kid ran to him, offering to move the rubbish bin. He was glad to accept the help, but couldn’t help mumbling to himself about the help being a bit late. And so he set to transfer himself back in, when he had an idea. He waited for the kid to come back after having moved the wheelie bin, and asked him if he knew how to drive. The kid, all of 15, blushed and said that he didn’t have a license, but that yeah, he had driven a few times. When offered the chance to drive the car up the driveway and park it, the youth jumped at the chance. He managed not to crash into the garage, and did a half decent job all things considered.

After his car was parked, he pushed to the back of the house, where the ramp had been built to allow him access in the house. It was a long ramp, U shaped. It had to go up 3’, therefore had a length of 36’, with a couple level areas so he could catch his breath. He also had been pretty specific about having a flat area in front of the door, big enough to have him still on the flat while the door was opened. Otherwise, he would have had to fight the incline of the ramp every time he opened or shut the door.

Once inside, he went straight to the bathroom, turned the shower tap on to hot, and started to strip naked. He transferred on to the shower bench, as it was easier to do the required shuffle to get his pants off than in his wheelchair. He enjoyed the shower, but didn’t want to waste more time than necessary, as he still had to go to the store before too long.

Once dried, he transferred back to his chair, and, naked, went to the bedroom. He had to pick new clothes to get to the store, as he didn’t want to get back in his soiled clothes. He opted for a t-shirt with a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. Easy to put on, comfortable.

From the bedroom, he went to the kitchen, and looked quickly in the cupboards to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. The good news was that he hadn’t, but then, the bad news was that he still needed to get to the store. And so he grabbed his pouch containing his “entire life”, a wallet with all necessary cards, his Palm Pilot, his cell phone, his keys. It was easier to have everything in one location. Of course, it meant that if he lost his pouch, he was in a lot of trouble!

He opened the kitchen door to the outside, and made his chair do a small wheelie to get over the threshold. As he went over the threshold, he reached behind him with his hand and grabbed the rope he had attached to the door’s handle. His momentum carried him forward, and he was able to pull the door shut by pulling on the rope. He turned around, grabbed the handle firmly and gave a small tug to make sure the door was shut properly. He locked the door, and turned around again, heading down the ramp.

The ramp was well built, from 2”x4” and 4”x4”, and plywood. It had been built when he first moved into the house, which was much older. Not fully accessible, he had made some modifications that allowed him to use it. The ramp was one of those modifications. The paint was a flat grey, with some sand mixed in, or something similar to sand that was supposed to offer a non-slip surface, but the moment the ramp got wet from rain, going down it was a bit like competing in a slalom race at the Winter Olympics: slippery and going around the bend can be a killer! He shuddered to think of the ramp’s surface had it not been covered with the non-slip pain.

He negotiated the three turns, and headed for his car. He unlocked the door, opened it and wheeled right in. He put the wheel-locks on the chair, and transferred from the chair to the driver’s seat. Because the car’s seat was a little lower than his chair, the transfer into the car was always easier than out of it. He bent down, and reached for his chair. Leaning his elbow on his knees, he lifted the back of the chair with one hand, and pushed the button at the centre of the wheel’s axle with the other, pulling the wheel off the frame. He put the wheel down against the door, and switched hand on his chair. He repeated the operation with the wheel on the other side, and gently put the frame down on the ground.

He still had to drag his legs into the car. His shoe got caught on the side of the door, scuffing his shoe. He always laughed at the preconceived idea some people have that paraplegics didn’t damage their shoes. Perhaps the soles don’t get quite as much wear as someone walking on them all day long, but paraplegics do damage their shoes quite a bit.

He reached out with his left hand while holding on the steering wheel with his right one. He lifted the frame, and let himself lay back on the back of the seat, passing the chair over his body. The chair went on the back seat, as if by itself. Next he reached for the wheels, grabbing one, putting it beside the other and picking both up at the same time, on the floorboard behind the passenger’s seat, just below the frame. Pulling himself up by the steering wheel again, he pushed the appropriate lever, and the seat’s back sprung into the upright position. He checked his rear-view mirror, and sure enough, the wheels had knocked it out of position. He wished he still had the Saturn 3-door coupe. His chair fit in and out of that car much better.

He buckled his seatbelt on. He always felt somewhat naked without the seatbelt in the car, but he also didn’t want to get caught by a conscientious copper. Or worse, get himself in an accident. He laughed at that thought. What could happen to him? Get an SCI?!? He put the car in the drive position, and drove.

The sky still threatened rain and storm. He asked the gods to hold the rain until after he’d parked at the store. The moment it rained, everybody decided to use the accessible parking spaces, nice and conveniently close to the door. Never mind that those who really needed it ended up having to park all the way across the parking lot, fight with the rain and the puddles. Accessible car parks were generally abused at the best of time. When it rained, or snowed, it usually was useless to attempt going to do any kind of shopping in town.

As he arrived to the grocery store, he noticed someone pulling out of the spot nearest the door. He aimed for it and put his turn indicator on. The other person was taking their sweet time leaving, but at least, he had the spot he wanted. He didn’t really mind having to go a distance when he first arrived, but on the way out, when he’d be loaded with grocery bags, being near the door would make it much easier. Besides, the accessible spaces weren’t only close to the door, they were also wider and allowed him to get the chair in and out of the car without too much problem. The space wasn’t as good as it could be, however, as it was on a cross-grade much steeper than it should have been, making it precarious to transfer in and out of the car.

He repeated the process of getting his chair out of the car, again. And transferring from the car to the chair, again. He made sure to have his feet properly tucked in on the footplate of his chair. He aimed for the door, and he had to wave his hand in the air to trigger the automatic opening. In the chair, he was just too low to trigger the motion detector.

He took a small basket and placed it on his lap. He was glad his lap was relatively flat, it made life much easier to carry things like a shopping basket (or a cutting board in the kitchen). His plan was to fill the basket, and when it was full, that was as much shopping as he would do. Usually, his full basket’s content would fit nicely in two paper shopping bags, which in turn would fit nicely on his lap. He’d done this often enough that he had it down almost to a science. It meant that he had to do shopping more often, but he didn’t care too much, as he’d been raised to go get fresh food at the store every day or two as a child, rather than two one monster shopping every week or two.

He went first to the meat counter, as the meats would determine what he’d be cooking, hence, which vegetables he’d need. He was lucky that this store still had butchers working in, that you could speak to and would cut and package the amount you wanted, or bone a chicken if you asked nicely. Of course, it was late in the day, and the butchers were all gone, so he had to make do with what was available already packaged in the shelves. Nothing really appealed, so he selected a small packet of premium ground beef. No point in selecting the regular stuff, as too much of it disappeared in the cooking process.

He then went to the vegetables area, picked some onions, celery, fresh parsley and a dozen Roma tomatoes. His plan was to make spaghetti tonight. He made his sauce simply and quickly, no long cooking period. Some people didn’t like his style sauce, too chunky, but that’s the way he liked it, and since he wasn’t cooking for anyone else, that’s the way he did it.

He remembered he didn’t have any pasta, so he went to that aisle. And the store had, in their infinite wisdom, decided to move things around. The spaghetti brand he liked was now on the top shelf, and he was unable to reach it. He looked up and down the aisle, ready to ask a passer-by for assistance, but no one was around. He wheeled to the top of the aisle, trying to find an employee. All staff shone by their absence. He moved on to get a few more items and come back later, in the hopes that someone would then be available.

He filled his basket some more with “essential items”, such as salt and vinegar chips, some instant ramen noodle soup, and soda cans. He saw from the corner of his eye someone walk towards the pasta, and hurried up to catch up with them. The woman actually saw him and smiled, which was better than to pass completely unnoticed. He asked her to reach the pasta for him, and she agreed. He told her which brand he wanted, and which size. She didn’t hear him, and got the wrong pasta altogether. When he pointed out that’s not what he asked for, she apologised, and pointed at each pasta in turn until he nodded yes. She gave the spaghetti to him, and as he was about to thank her, she patted his head and said “oh you poor thing” as she walked away.

Now that his basket was full to the brim, he went to the check out. He got in line, aiming for the only check –out counter that was wide enough for him. In the line next to him, a young girl of 5 or 6 squirmed in the shopping trolley her mother was pushing. She pointed her finger at him, and her mother batted the hand away, shushing the kid. Not to be stopped, the girl exclaimed loudly “Mum, mum, look, the man…”, and the mother turned bright pink and told the kid to shut up. But the kid didn’t shut up, she continued: “look, the man… he’s wearing the same cap I am!” And sure enough they were both wearing the same hat. He laughed, and thought that children really see to the heart of things, have the uncanny ability to ignore unimportant things.

He asked for the cashier to lower the ATM machine for him to be able to reach and enter his PIN number. But the store had recently replaced their system and the tradesmen hadn’t done the job properly, they’d glued the machines in place instead of using velcro. He had to wiggle forward in his seat, perching himself precariously on the edge of his chair. From there he had to lean a bit more to see what buttons he was pressing. He heard people grumble behind him, and even heard a male voice say “fucking cripple”. Which gave him the perverse desire to take even more time in getting his things together.

The teenager packing bags sported several earrings on each ear, had a nose piercing, a brow piercing (still healing, obviously), and he had a lisp that indicated he probably had a tongue piercing as well. All those piercing probably explained why he wasn’t too bright, his brains must have leaked out. He had been asked to pack all the groceries in two double paper bags, with the heavy items at the bottom. The kid had argued about it, saying that it wasn’t going to all fit in. A bet of $25 was offered, saying that it was possible. In the end, the man had to repack his own bags to his liking.

He loaded the bags on his lap, and wheeled away, carefully, so the bags wouldn’t bounce off his lap when he went over the small door threshold. He saw that while he had done his shopping, the sky had opened and it had been pouring rain. Puddles were already gathering throughout the lot. The short distance between the door and the car was filled with such a puddle. His hands got wet from pushing his chair. He opened the trunk of his car, and placed the bags in the vehicle. He had arranged another rope similar to the one on his kitchen door, so he could pull the trunk shut easily.

But he couldn’t get to his car, as someone had parked on the access aisle between the accessible spaces, and there was all of a foot between the cars. It was impossible to get to the door, much less load the chair in. He went back into the store and asked the store manager to page the client who owned the illegally parked car. The manager refused to help, saying that surely the client would be out soon, and that he should wait his turn patiently!

He told the manager that if the client wasn’t paged immediately, he would call the cops and get the customer ticketed and towed away. This threat sent the manager in action. The client did come out, and didn’t even have the decency to appear ashamed or contrite for what he’d done.

And once more in the rain he went, opened the car door.

Locked the chair.

Transferred to the car seat.

Leaned out and gripped the chair.

Took the wheels off the frame.

Get the seat’s back down.

Reached for the frame, and put it in the car, while the front caster dripped dirty water on him.

His chair’s frame knocked one of the wheels off it’s resting place, and because of the uneven surface, the wheel took off, rolling across the parking lot, well out of his reach.

He looked around, hoping to catch someone’s attention before the wheel got damaged by a car driving by. He didn’t want to have to drag himself on the wet ground, training his legs behind him. But no one was around. And he had to do just that, get out of the car and drag himself. The transfer out of the car was problematic. Getting out was relatively easy, gravity took care of that, just as in the bathtub. But he didn’t want to break a bone as he landed. And he knew that getting back in the car would be tremendously more exerting.

He made the trip to his wheel and back to the car. He got soaked to the hips, and up to the elbows in the process. Oily residue was floating on the water’s surface. He put his hand on old dried up chewing gum, softened by the heat of the pavement and the water. His mood had not improved at all.

He pulled himself into his car, careful not to knock the wheels again. By now, he was chilled and his legs were having pretty solid spasms. He needed to get home, and warm up. And he drove away, concentrating on the road. Wanting to arrive alive and in one piece.

As he pulled into his parking space, he took a deep breathe, and build up his energy to go through the chair/transfer routine, once again. Grab, twist, move, grab, deposit, lean, etc. He picked his bags from the trunk of the car, put them on his lap, and was glad to have them double bagged, as wet as he was, the bag’s bottom could have disintegrated otherwise.

As he put the groceries away, he realised he’d forgotten something at the store. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to go back for it that day! No, he was going to take a hot bubble bath to warm up, and then flake out in front of the television. A well deserved rest at the end of a long day.