The Promise: A Tragic Accident, a Paralyzed Bride, and the Power of Love, Loyalty, and Friendship by Rachelle Friedman Page B
Authors: Rachelle Friedman
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didn’t really know him very well before the accident. Maybe my entire life. He was eight years older, so we never hung out. But after the accident we became extremely close. He lived down the street and came over for dinner, and I saw him much more than when we were young. I was grateful for renewing that connection. It was awesome just to be able to chill with him in a way that I hadn’t expected.
CHAPTER 18
The Ugly Reality
Unfortunately, while I was getting used to things inside of my home, factors I couldn’t control outside of my home painted an unexpected picture of how people with spinal cord injuries are sometimes treated. Ugly truths began to reveal themselves to me, and I was shocked by some of my experiences.
I’d never really given parking much thought, but when my mother started driving me around, we soon realized that accessible spaces were scarce and that few people respected the law. I even began to think about the name handicap parking and why it was still socially acceptable. The term handicap originated in a time when people who were in wheelchairs and couldn’t work would have to put a hat out for money, or a “handi-cap.” Many people don’t know that history, and when they say that word, they don’t mean anything by it.
My first run-in with the issue was when I still had a neck brace on, and at that point I had no idea that people abuse handicap parking spots the way they do. A guy on a motorcycle had parked between the lines of two handicap spots; usually that space is reserved for a ramp to come out. Regardless, I don’t know why anyone would park there; obviously someone could come out of their car in a wheelchair, and anyone thinking logically would know that they needed space to do so.
I was in my mother’s car, and I had to be slide-boarded out of it. My mom had to get in front of me to slide me out of the car. The guy had parked so close. Now, I was a confident person, but I did not want to be dragged out of a car like a ragdoll with a neck brace right in front of some idiot because he was too stubborn to move. It just was not a comfortable situation. I remember my mom asking him very nicely to move. He said, “All right,” and then all he did was bring his leg around to the other side of his motorcycle. This guy didn’t even look me in the eye, didn’t make any space for me to get out. He was such an asshole. He just sat there, right next to our car—one foot away from my wheelchair. A waitress came out, and he sat there flirting with her while I was struggling with my mom to get out of the car and into my chair. I said to my mother out loud, “Is this really happening?” We were boiling mad, since it was so soon after the accident and we hadn’t encountered anyone quite so obnoxious and selfish. I should have said more. I wasn’t afraid of him or even nervous, but until that point, I just had not known people acted like that. He could clearly see I was sitting in the car with a neck brace and a wheelchair, and he needed to get out of the way and he wouldn’t. I thought, Just get out of the way. Period. It boggled my mind. Of course, just as I was out and in the chair, he took off, revving up the bike really loudly and speeding away. He couldn’t even walk his motorcycle out four feet. He had to start it next to us like that.
The next time that happened, I had more smarts and awareness. We went back to the same restaurant, which attracts a lot of sporty people and people with motorcycles. A man had parked his motorcycle on the lines of the handicap spot. So I waited. I knew I couldn’t walk away from everyone who abused these things; otherwise I was not doing anything to better the situation. If I spoke up, maybe an able-bodied driver wouldn’t do it again, and maybe the next injured person wouldn’t have a hard time coming out of his or her car. I realized that the more people I could educate, the fewer injured people would face what I was facing right then.
So
CHAPTER 18
The Ugly Reality
Unfortunately, while I was getting used to things inside of my home, factors I couldn’t control outside of my home painted an unexpected picture of how people with spinal cord injuries are sometimes treated. Ugly truths began to reveal themselves to me, and I was shocked by some of my experiences.
I’d never really given parking much thought, but when my mother started driving me around, we soon realized that accessible spaces were scarce and that few people respected the law. I even began to think about the name handicap parking and why it was still socially acceptable. The term handicap originated in a time when people who were in wheelchairs and couldn’t work would have to put a hat out for money, or a “handi-cap.” Many people don’t know that history, and when they say that word, they don’t mean anything by it.
My first run-in with the issue was when I still had a neck brace on, and at that point I had no idea that people abuse handicap parking spots the way they do. A guy on a motorcycle had parked between the lines of two handicap spots; usually that space is reserved for a ramp to come out. Regardless, I don’t know why anyone would park there; obviously someone could come out of their car in a wheelchair, and anyone thinking logically would know that they needed space to do so.
I was in my mother’s car, and I had to be slide-boarded out of it. My mom had to get in front of me to slide me out of the car. The guy had parked so close. Now, I was a confident person, but I did not want to be dragged out of a car like a ragdoll with a neck brace right in front of some idiot because he was too stubborn to move. It just was not a comfortable situation. I remember my mom asking him very nicely to move. He said, “All right,” and then all he did was bring his leg around to the other side of his motorcycle. This guy didn’t even look me in the eye, didn’t make any space for me to get out. He was such an asshole. He just sat there, right next to our car—one foot away from my wheelchair. A waitress came out, and he sat there flirting with her while I was struggling with my mom to get out of the car and into my chair. I said to my mother out loud, “Is this really happening?” We were boiling mad, since it was so soon after the accident and we hadn’t encountered anyone quite so obnoxious and selfish. I should have said more. I wasn’t afraid of him or even nervous, but until that point, I just had not known people acted like that. He could clearly see I was sitting in the car with a neck brace and a wheelchair, and he needed to get out of the way and he wouldn’t. I thought, Just get out of the way. Period. It boggled my mind. Of course, just as I was out and in the chair, he took off, revving up the bike really loudly and speeding away. He couldn’t even walk his motorcycle out four feet. He had to start it next to us like that.
The next time that happened, I had more smarts and awareness. We went back to the same restaurant, which attracts a lot of sporty people and people with motorcycles. A man had parked his motorcycle on the lines of the handicap spot. So I waited. I knew I couldn’t walk away from everyone who abused these things; otherwise I was not doing anything to better the situation. If I spoke up, maybe an able-bodied driver wouldn’t do it again, and maybe the next injured person wouldn’t have a hard time coming out of his or her car. I realized that the more people I could educate, the fewer injured people would face what I was facing right then.
So
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