Wheeling and dealing

The new wheelchair, indeed, the first one ever, arrived today. Its purpose is to allow J to participate in such events as a birdwatching field trip, or the Oxford, Ohio Relay for Life for breast cancer research, or just shopping at stores that don't have electric carts. It weighs 42 lbs. And it was made in Mexico, not China.

Isn't it amazing how unconscionably high the prices are for assistive devices? Not being an expert in economics, I'd have to put it down to the fact that prices in this field are determined by how much a manufacturer can gouge an insurance company. Otherwise, how can you explain the spread between $197.00 and $560.00 for exactly the same item? And when you're buying something like this without going through insurance, you want to be sure you find exactly what you're looking for, so you won't have a full-blown case of buyer's remorse two days later when you discover the same item on the internet for hundreds less and free shipping.

In any case, we discovered this gem at IKEA, the new monster furniture place in West Chester, when J looked for an electric cart and found a wheelchair that met her weight and dimensional requirements. I have to assume that battery technology just isn't up to propelling the average shopper in a cart around an area that's touted to be the size of six football fields. Or maybe they just don't want amateur jockeys bashing into all that lovely Swedish furniture. In any case, we enjoyed the whole experience, and from her seated vantage point, all she had to do was point in the direction she wanted to go, and I revved up the old Armstrong motor and off we trundled.

Whenever we shop at some food chain outlet, she gets into an electric cart, because they have a basket on the front, and because they make an obnoxious beeping whenever she thrusts it into reverse. The six-year-old in her loves that. But now that sciatica has become a sporadic accompaniment, she needs access to places where no electric cart has ever gone before.

Why not an electric scooter? Well, refer to the points made in the second paragraph above. But even more importantly, we're still paying off a Honda sedan that we bought before we realized that the future might be easier if we had bought a van. And there are other reasons, too. I can't keep up with a scooter. A scooter has power requirements that border on being a nuisance. After all, J does not have to plug me into the wall at night, although I might get a charge out of that.

So what do we know now? One thing we know for certain is that the fully-expanded chair will not go through the doorways of our 70's cape cod home. Another is that I will develop muscles in places where they have been largely absent hitherto. And another is that since I've always walked behind J when she rides around in the stores, I will now be less of a Prince Philip (hands behind back, head slightly deferentially bowed forward, attendant on every word) and more of an interested companion. And if J doesn't like where we're headed, she can apply the brakes or turn the wheel. She's on a roll!