Six weeks from surgery that took both my legs, I lay in the front room of the house. My wife has gone to work, having arranged all that I need within reach of my bed. I have a new electric wheelchair, an unwelcome addition, that I am beginning to embrace with less resentment. It is a mighty struggle to maneuver into the chair from my hospital bed, another intruder. Have I not slept by my wife’s side for 25 years? Yet, I am secluded in the spare bedroom so that she may sleep without interruption. The burden of our finances now lay entirely upon her. My disability check has yet to be approved. The lawyer assures us it is not a question of if, but when. This does not comfort me now, however, and I doubt the added income will be much help to our mounting bills. I am truly an invalid, unable to provide my wife her due in these waning years. The TV set drones the latest news. Dust particles float in the sunlight streaming through the window. Time slows. Sleep, impossible at night, now overwhelms me.
I awaken as Doris comes into the house at 6 PM. There won’t be much sleep tonight. Though I had promised to get in my wheelchair during the day, and do all my exercises, I could only mumble an apology, then quickly change the subject with Doris. “How was your day?” I ask, with a deep jealousy creeping int0 my chest. She told me all about it in her usual good cheer, and I held onto each word as if it were her last. What would I do without her? Yet I envy her freedom.
A New Day
Doris drives away in the blue Ford. Enough with pity parties. Today was going to be different. I swung to the edge of my bed, having already put on the fresh clothes Doris so thoughtfully laid out. I grabbed the arms of the wheelchair and swung over, missing ever so slightly, and landing with a thump. With a struggle, I managed to center my rump in the middle of the seat, and had exerted enough energy to break a sweat. My upper body had always been the weakest part of my body. I wish I had spent more time at the gym before the accident.
One Year Later
Things are better. I have learned that I am not defined by my job, my lack of legs, or my role in the family. I am defined by God. I am a child of God. Nothing can take that away from me. I have lost my identity as a provider, and a “healthy” person. I am no longer an engineer, but I am a child of God. In that, I have found the strength to be who I need to be to my wife and my family. I serve her in every way that I can, for she has loved me and stayed with me. Life is more than better. Life is great! That’s not to say I don’t have my bad days, but when I get depressed, I begin to remind myself who I am, and who I belong to, and that has made all the difference. Keep me in your prayers, would you?
Written By: David Martin
Lifeline Chaplaincy 