A Day in the Life of an Average 20-Something
Wheelchair Girl
by Angela Wrigglesworth
While I live as independently as possible, I dont do it all. Like
so many of my peers with disabilities, I require other people to meet
my daily needs. In fact, I have to ask for physical help for almost
everything.
It took me a long time to perfect the art of asking for help. I wouldnt
say Ive mastered it, but I have come to the realization that without
the assistance of many people, this wheelchair girl isnt going to
make it through the day...
Morning Routine
6:45 a.m.
The wakeup call from across the apartment signals that I have only
a few more precious minutes to lie in bed.
6:48 a.m.
My roommate, whos my caregiver and friend, Leslie Rodriguez, arrives
in my room and silently sets my aching body up on the side of my bed
a waterbed that has brought me, for the most part, very comfortable
nights. She slides a sling underneath me which attaches to a Hoyer
Lift, a mechanism that I refer to as "the human crane,"
and then brings me into the restroom.
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Houston elementary
school teacher Angela Wrigglesworth starts her morning with
the help of caregiver Leslie Rodriguez. Photos by Michael Hart |
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6:53 a.m.
Im back in my wheelchair and deciding what to wear.
Some females change clothes a minimum of 30 times before ultimately
deciding on the outfit for the day. I, on the other hand, have trained
myself to stick with my original choice in an attempt not to burden
my roommate with dressing me more than once.
6:59 a.m.
I blindly re-enter the restroom to put in my contacts. Its too difficult
for me to hold a mirror, so Ive taught myself to do it without looking.
Im also unable to keep my eye open with one hand while inserting
the contact with the other, so I manage to bulge my eyes open long
enough to get them in. I wouldnt consider this a scientific process
by any means, but it works, and its one of the few things I can still
do by myself.
7:03 a.m.
I brush my teeth. In light of the strict time constraint that Im
under, my roommate has kindly put toothpaste on my toothbrush and
placed a small disposable cup on the side of the counter. I cant
afford to have my apartment bathroom remodeled so Im unable to use
my sink properly, thus the spit cup.
7:05 a.m.
I now make my best attempt at styling my hair. The natural curls
I used to curse have turned into a convenient hair-do. I simply use
a back scratcher (a hand-shaped, plastic thing available for purchase
at most tourist shops) to "fluff" the mop that sits on top
of my head. Being a Texan has its advantages big hair is always
acceptable. On days when its even too big for Texas, my roommate
pulls it into a ponytail.
7:10 a.m.
I sit at my desk and carefully apply a layer of makeup. Despite my
hand weakness, I turn out looking somewhat presentable.
7:25 a.m.
A teaching colleague knocks on the door and is ready to drive me
to work.
At Work
7:40 a.m.
We arrive in my van at the elementary school where I teach third
grade. Two students meet me at the door, ready to carry in anything
that might be falling off my lap, and craving the morning "meet
and greet" with their teacher.
7:45 a.m.
I ask the teacher from next door to turn on the light in my classroom.
Then I recruit one of my students to help me. There are usually a
slew of them waiting to be chosen. Thats my favorite thing about
working with kids theyre always ready and willing to help.
7:47 a.m.
My chosen assistant passes out the morning assignment and then helps
me to turn on the computer.
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Wrigglesworths
students eagerly help her
throughout the day. |
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8:05 a.m.
The students arrive. The next three minutes are filled with good-morning
hugs. Most of my kids have perfected the side hug, a technique in
which they stand next to my chair and wrap both arms around me.
One of my shining moments as a teacher was when a student realized
that I wasnt able to get my arms around to return the squeeze, so
he pulled my arm around for me.
8:08 a.m.
The learning process begins. I help them with reading, writing and
arithmetic, and they help me pick papers up off the floor, turn on
the overhead projector and open those impossible marker caps. They
do all of these things for me not just because Im their teacher or
because Im in a wheelchair, but because I ask them to.
9 a.m.
My aide, who was generously hired by the district, arrives. For the
next four hours shell file papers in the cabinet, staple student
projects up on the wall and help me heat my bag of popcorn for lunch
in the microwave.
3:20 p.m.
The children pack up my things and theirs to go home. They conclude
the day the same way it began, with a hug. The teacher from next door
turns the lights out in my classroom.
In the Evening
3:40 p.m.
I meet my mother at my apartment and she drives me to her house for
a shower. My inaccessible bathroom doesnt allow me the pleasure of
bathing in my apartment, so I rely on my parents for assistance in
this matter. One day when I become a rich third-grade teacher, Im
going to build a home with the most accessible bathroom ever known.
5 p.m.
My father drops me at my apartment and my evening begins. I either
go out with friends, make a trip to the store with someone Ive recruited
to take me, or park myself in front of the television for a few hours
of rare relaxation.
7 p.m.
My roommate makes us dinner. When we stay home, its a typical "single
gals" dinner: a microwave meal and a Diet Coke.
7:30 p.m.
I spend the next several hours e-mailing, instant messaging, reading,
grading student work and talking on the phone. This is the time of
day I value most because these are the things that I can do completely
by myself for an extended period of time.
I take pride in this small compilation of independence, and I rejoice
in these precious moments of total isolation. For a split second I
can give others the impression that I do this "life" thing
on my own and, for some reason, this thought brings peace to my day.
11 p.m.
My body signals that its approaching total shutdown, so my morning
routine is quickly put into reverse, and my day comes to a close.
Reflection
Ive worked out a solid routine that, with the help of others, allows
me to live as independently as possible.
I often lie in my bed at the end of the day and think about where
Id be without that help. Ironically, Id be in the very same place
lying in my bed but alone and powerless.
Ive learned in my 20-something years to live by basketball coach
John Woodens philosophy: "Things turn out best for those who
make the best of the way things turn out."
For me, things have turned out the best because Ive asked for help
along the way.
