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Home / Thoughts / Other's Thoughts / Lane's Thoughts / How It Worked At Work

How It Worked At Work

Written by Lane on Saturday, July 18, 2009

Earlier in the day, I had taken delivery of my brand new wheelchair. A proper, respectable chair that was appropriate for most environments and one that I could be proud of. For most of the drive from my DME vendor, I had a stupid grin on, and other drivers surely must have thought I was either on drugs or had just become engaged. Maybe I had in a way.

At about noon, I parked in a part of the large parking lot that was somewhat remote and pondered what to do next. I had planned to use the chair in about a week’s time, but it was sitting next to me. What, other than fear was stopping me now. I took a deep breath, or maybe a few, then grabbed hold of my inner self, opened the door, nervously assembled my chair (for the first time), and wheeled around to the back of the car to grab some papers I needed for work. It was already a great adrenaline rush.

There, I was immediately met by a colleague. So much for a stealth entry. Noticing my trunk (boot,hatch) open, he asked if I needed any help. I didn’t need any, but naturally he was just curious. He was also completely professional and courteous, so I set to explaining that my doctors and I had established a plan where I would be switching and reducing my medications - relying more on mobility aids over the course of several months. For TA readers, this is somewhat true. My med combo is actually mildly poisoning me at the moment and I am forced to make changes which will affect my leg spasms and neuropathic pain, but not to the degree implied. A partial truth is so damn handy. This is the sample explanation that I had prepped to confidants and my boss with some days and weeks before.

I know certain things about myself. One is that I can pretty much turn my emotions off when necessary. I can disassociate and enter a anxiety-provoking situation with a cold and unfeeling demeanor. I could have used this technique at work, but I wanted to FEEL this experience, so I couldn’t use that coping technique. What that left me with is the intense anxiety that used to cause my intense panic attacks and give me such fears as not being able to use the telephone for fear of the other party answering. (Yeah, it was pretty out of control – anxiety disorders are a bitch.) I’m past most of that, but my anxiety was still on the high side.

I had asked my pdoc to help walk me through some scenarios during my last session. This was corny, I must admit, but I needed to be prepared in _some way_, or I knew I might fall apart. He pointed out some simple things, like the fact that, no matter what happens after the first day or two, most people just won’t care enough to keep the pressure on. It won’t affect the person they care most about – themselves.

Armed with this, and the first person’s very minimal reaction, I headed downhill into work, just after lunch. I used my ride’s new bearings and fine alignment to get there before my friend, in order to hold the door for him. <grin>. The arrangement of the building and the location of the elevators requires that I must wheel past large percentage of my coworkers on the way to my desk. I was surprised to get only the slightest of glances and nary a comment during the entire journey there. Maybe this won’t be as hard as I thought. To tell you the truth, I was a bit disappointed – I was prepared for more of a challenge.

Once, I dropped of the papers at my desk and headed down to get a bite at the café, I didn’t have to wait long for the first confrontation. The first server I encountered loudly exclaimed “what are YOU doing?”. I was prepared for her reaction to an extent, but not her volume or specific choice of words. It took me a second to respond: “deciding between chicken and fish.” (Her boss immediately had a few words of advice for her.)

After that encounter, my planning and sense of humor solidified my plan of attack for future encounters: try to have a novel story for each new person that asks me about my reasons for the chair and my medical conditions. I would stick to the truth, but each person would get their own personal script and slice of the story. This would keep it fresh for me and make it sort of a fun game, too, thus relieving tension for all involved. This worked swimmingly for days. I highly recommend it.

I did get a few confusing reactions. One person, obviously oblivious to chronic pain issues, just couldn’t understand why someone would want to use a wheelchair if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. I explained using more and more detail, but he ended up walking away with a look of complete puzzlement.

Another well-educated person, who I also consider a good friend, was wondering if the chair meant that I was now paralyzed. Uh, no. I think it was a shock thing – he didn’t know how to react and what questions to politely ask in the moment. I felt bad for him. I had to convince him that I was OK and that it was part of a well-constructed medical plan to deal with a progressive illness. A day later, I went back and he seemed well adjusted. By this time, I had regained my wheelie balance and he was quite amused at by little demo of skills.

A couple people who I have known casually for years introduced themselves to me – saying that they hadn’t noticed me around, when had I started at the company, etc. I said 7 years ago. More than one person, who I think know me pretty well started getting my name slightly wrong when they weren’t viewing my face straight-on. Fascinating stuff!

I should have expected this, but didn’t: I had to have the “disability” talk with a number of people. Their selves/son/daughter/niece/neighbor/etc. had some sort of accident that debilitated them in some way. What happened to them, etc.? What happened to me? Actually, I don’t mind telling my story. I have some wild friends that have done some crazy things, but the accident is easily the most interesting thing that has happened to me personally. Plus, the story has so many facets, that I can tailor it easily to the audience, as needed. In any case, I was forced, by the rules of politesse to compare notes or at least listen to each story.

Two of the “disability” stories were of special interest. The first involved someone that I am on a nickname basis with. When we talked about the chair, his comment was “well, we all have our own cross to bear”. He went on to tell a medical story that blew me away. He had experienced a number of the same things I had, not through an auto accident, but we talked shop for quite a while. It was wild – I never knew. As you go through life, you continue to learn how little we know about our fellow man and how many miles he’s walked in his moccasins.

The second story left me pretty much speechless. A father, about my own father’s age, talked about his son and an auto accident he was in. Get this: within a month of mine, with very similar injuries, taken to the same hospital (remember, I was VERY far from my home at the time), in a long coma, similar recovery, and non-recovery, chronic injuries, and on and on. When he told the story, he was telling mine and it creeped me out. I didn’t know how to react – at all. I did my best and tried to give kind words from the son’s perspective.

Finally, one nice person had terrible trouble with being nervous around me. He asked me about legitimate, but small technical issue. I answered his question, but he expanded and expanded on the question for probably 20 minutes – never wanting the end the conversation. For him, doing so would require some sort of pleasantry that he wasn’t prepared for, so on we went. Eventually, I had to break it off and roll away. Sorry, bud.

The rest of the people I encountered either had an extremely minimal reaction or were actually totally nonplussed by the chair. I don’t think they were unnerved – I think they just didn’t really care that much. I got some genuine compliments on the paint job, tires, etc. I talked shop with some engineers. Mostly people just wanted to talk business. I have renewed faith in my coworkers and their ability to deal with this as appropriately as possible.

So that was the first week at work. I was most concerned about the reactions of coworkers and clearly that wasn’t an issue at all. Perhaps my prep-work with the brace helped. Maybe my humor eased people into the idea, but my own view is that for most people, it is just like my pdoc said – it’s just not that big of a deal. Maybe this will help inspire some of you to take your own leaps of faith. It can be done.

After all, how did I feel? I probably don’t have to tell you. The chair felt like it was propelled by pure thought. Despite a maze of equipment, offices, and cubes, I never encountered a physical or interpersonal obstacle that I couldn’t negotiate. My confidence by Friday was through the moon, my feet never had to touch the ground, and my mood was sky high. It’s Sunday and even being out of my chair over the weekend hasn’t dampened my elation - I know what I have to look forward to on Monday morning. (…and who looks forward to Monday morning anyway????)

Tags: fear, Joy, Wheelchair, Work, Workplace

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