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Roughing It
Written by Chloe on Sunday, July 26, 2009
I had not been camping since my back injury in December 2006. Mostly it was because of concern about back pain while trying to sleep in a tent. However, my back pain has decreased substantially over the last few months. So, when my male lover invited me to go camping with him in the forest, I couldn’t resist.
The Preparation
This was pretty scary for me. Yes, I know that people with paraplegia do go camping. But this was my first time. What unforseen difficulties would I encounter? I would be with my lover 100% of the time, so I would not get the slightest break from presenting with paraplegia, albeit incomplete. Nor would I want a break. It’s the way it’s supposed to be. I just needed to be careful.
I have to thank Sean for his encouragement. I was very nervous about this, and he talked me through it. And thanks for reminding me that I needed to plan for not leaving my used diapers in the forest! Gotta love ziplock bags.
The big decision was "leg braces or wheelchair?". I know that there are wheelchair accessible tents, but we didn’t have one. I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to manage everything, but I figured that leg braces and crutches would be the most sensible option. This was to be my first time using such accessories while camping.
The Day
Chloe’s braces, from the front.
I hadn’t worn the right brace since Alicia had cut the left brace straps to a good length, so I needed to cut the right straps to match. It was tempting just to cut them to the same length as on the left, but I decided to put the brace on before doing the cutting. This was a good call. It turned out that the upper right thigh strap needed to have an extra inch and a half compared with the left. I don’t know why. It was good that I checked the screws too. One had worked its way loose on the left brace.
You can’t see what it says on my socks in the pictures. They say "I have issues". I thought that was appropriate.
I was surprisingly nervous while getting ready; mostly sexual insecurities. Is he going to like my bra? Is it okay that I’m not wearing any make up?
Chloe’s braces, from the back.
It seemed that a casual above knee skirt would be good for camping. I checked it out in the mirror and decided it looked okay. This would be my first time out alone in public with leg braces and an above knee skirt. I made a freeway restroom stop about halfway through the drive. I didn’t need to go pee. I wanted to test myself. I wonder why I keep thinking I might get self-conscious, when the reality is that I never do. I’m also thinking that Alicia might be right: perhaps the more leg brace you show, the less time it takes for people to figure out what is "wrong" with you.
The Camping
I was utterly unprepared for the intensity of emotions that hit me. We had taken a half mile walk. The tent was ready. We had eaten the beef stew while sitting on the fallen tree in front of the camp fire. My lover and I were standing and hugging closely. I whispered in his ear how grateful I was to him for taking me camping; and the tears started to flow down my cheeks. He knew that I hadn’t been camping since my back injury. It meant more to me than I had understood.
Now came the logistics of getting in the tent. I wasn’t going to be able to get out of the tent without leg braces, so once I was in the tent and the leg braces came off, that would be it for the night. There was another well placed fallen tree a little distance away that I could go sit on to pee; no problem.
But how do I get in the tent? I’d never attempted sitting down on the floor while wearing braces. We pondered for a few seconds and came up with the plan. First the crutches got stowed in the tent while I was hanging on to him. Then he lowered me down into the tent, facing each other holding hands, so that I ended sitting up in the tent with my feet still poking outside. Next he helped me take off the braces. It was his first time for this. On previous occasions I had simply transferred to the bed from my wheelchair.
Then I scooted to the other side of the tent. No sooner had I done this than my left leg went into major muscle spasms, more than I’d ever had before. Usually they are little fluttery ones that are very visible, but not strong enough to actually move the leg. Once in a while there will be a sudden one which will cause the leg to move. These were different. The whole leg was bouncing around on the mattress. I don’t have any clue if this is usual or normal or reasonable. But it’s what happened, and it kept on going. My lover had seen and felt my spasms before, but not like this. He seemed a little concerned about whether he should do something. I said "No problem, I have clonazepam". I reached for it from my purse and crushed one between my teeth for fast sublingual absorbtion. The spasms calmed down after about ten minutes, but the fluttery ones kept on going for another hour or so. My left thigh was kinda sore from this episode for the next couple of days.
At some point we had figured out that the air mattress had deflated. It was pumped up again to no avail. I preempted the obvious question. Yes, we were going to stay, and it wouldn’t be a problem for me. I have a self image of being a super tough chick, and I would never admit to being a sissy.
The Sex
Those of you under eighteen have to skip this part.
Yes, the sex. What does it all mean? Am I messed up? Do other people hide it better? What are all the things that I’m hiding? Why this need for a man to find me irresistable? Why do I HAVE to be paralysed to be with a man? I dare you to love me. I dare you to make love to me. I can’t have an orgasm. I might pee on you. I can’t move my legs. You still want me. Yes, you still want me…
My back was more of a problem than I thought it was going to be. We had spent several hours sitting on the fallen tree in front of the fire; talking, hugging, kissing. We talked about being damaged; psychologically damaged mostly. I’ve been damaged for a long time; so has he. He doesn’t have a job. He receives disability payments. I can’t allow anyone to make love to me unless they know I am damaged. I can’t love anyone unless they are damaged. Sitting for that length of time without back support was painful.
Then my back really got a pounding. No air in the mattress to keep my back separated from the rough ground. I was not about to complain. But it still hurts.
The Morning
Everything simply happened in reverse order the next morning. First the diaper came off. My lover is so sweet and considerate about all my trappings of disability. Then more sex. Then we got dressed. Then he helped me put my braces on. Then he pulled me up and handed me my crutches. That was easier than I thought it might be, but only because I had help. Then I went back to my peeing tree.
He drove us back to his house, where we hung out for a while. After I left, he called Alicia to let her know that I was on my way home. The three of us have spent a lot of time together.
In town I filled my tank with gasoline, then headed homewards with good thoughts; warm feelings towards my lover; eager anticipation of seeing Alicia.
At 11:53 a.m. I found out that I am unbreakable.
Tags: Back Injury, Back Pain, Crutches, Diapers, Leg Braces, Muscle Spasms, Paralysed, Paraplegia, Wheelchair
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4 Comments
2 On 27 July, 2009, Phil said:
Citations:
“I can’t allow anyone to make love to me unless they know I am damaged. I can’t love anyone unless they are damaged.” (Chloe)
“And Why do I HAVE to be one handed to be with a man?” (Tom)
Is this really BIID? Then I don’t have BIID. I could and can be with a man, have sex, and particularly I can LOVE without being disabled and without the man being disabled.
But I can’t choose whom I love. It just comes, happens. Sparks show – or not.
I often fell in love with men who didn’t match what I thought was the pattern of my kind of guy.
Most people have unsolved issues, but that needn’t or shouldn’t keep us from living our lives.
On the other hand, when I see handsome men, I sometimes forget about my BIID for some time. And years ago when I had come out of the closet (as a gay man), this pushed BIID aside for some time.
For me BIID is just the desire that I have two thigh stumps. Everything else seems to me more like the way how I deal with this desire. I don’t want myself being reduced to BIID or be dictated by BIID in all aspects of my life.
And that’s where therapy really helps me.
So now I see I am somewhat lucky.
And I can understand that BIID can be so powerful that it overshadows everything: love, sex, etc. That must be really hard.
3 On 27 July, 2009, Phil said:
Another thing that caught my eye when reading Chloe’s text:
“Then my back really got a pounding. No air in the mattress to keep my back separated from the rough ground. I was not about to complain. But it still hurts.”
When I was a child boys were told: “An Indian doesn’t know pain.” Also other emotions were not greeted. This was sick. It makes people sick. Emotions are important.
It can be a sign of maturity to be able to tolerate pain when necessary.
Are you certain that you are nice to yourself? Why more pain than necessary? Don’t you allow yourself to avoid suffering?
Enjoy when you can
and suffer when you must
(said Goethe)
- only when you have to!
And when you suffer, why not show it?
Again Goethe:
“When man becomes mute in his agony, a god gave me to say what I suffer”.
(Und wo der Mensch in seiner Qual verstummt, gab mir ein Gott, zu sagen, was ich leide.)
Is there an element of being hard to yourself, of not allowing yourself to enjoy life?
@Phil. Gosh, you sure have a knack of digging deep, Phil (that’s a good thing).
I’m not saying that the issue of being damaged in order to have a loving relationship is directly related to BIID. The critical quality I need in another person is that they have depression or bipolar disorder. Everything else is secondary. This is not a conscious decision; it’s just the way it works out. There is no obvious connection with BIID. As far as the damage to myself, it could just be a fortuitous coincidence that treating my BIID makes me appear “damaged”. I’m not sure.
BIID does overshadow everything else for me. When I first read Sean’s “It taints everything it touches”, I was astounded that someone I’d never met could know me so intimately.
I am certain that I am NOT nice to myself. Yes, I cause myself pain and suffering; but I would be a sissy to show it. My psychotherapist said that I have a deeply masochistic personality.
Okay, so I’m screwed up. Not all of it is about BIID, but BIID seems to find its way into just about everything.
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1 On 27 July, 2009, Tom said:
And Why do I HAVE to be one handed to be with a man? This is pure mystery to me. Nothing rational in this. But it *is* that way. This is BIID. This is frustrating. Anyway, there’s the “pretending”… and the burning desire to make it real, for true, forever, and to get on with living.