“Yeah, no.”

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I have seen some super-cute wheelchairs/assistive devices since I started going to Planet Rehab (NRH).  The list includes a dusty lilac rollator, a red chair, as well as a lime one.  I wouldn’t invest in a cute chair/device unless I was going to use it for a long time, so for now I just look at other people’s and smile.  I found Leo by typing “leopard print cane” into the Amazon search engine (I love Amazon!) but I will not be purchasing any cool accessories like the tripod-like base on Uncle B(C)’s cane, that he let me test-drive a while back, since my goal is to walk without the cane.

There is a hallway next to the sugar/cream coffee station at Planet Rehab where a fleet of utilitarian wheelchairs are parked.  These chairs were built for industrial use, not to compete in a beauty pageant.  Still, the big metal “hoops” on top (they make it easy to identify a hospital chair and prevent anyone from folding it up and taking it home in their trunk), don’t deter me from wanting to take one for a joy ride.  FYI it’s the safety and independence that makes me miss my wheelchair, not the limitations of being in a chair that people I know bear with such good grace.

Last week I was working next to the parallel bars so I could see myself in the mirror and I paused to watch a patient get out of her chair so she could walk within the bars.  My eyes were not fixed on her, but on the chair she had vacated.  “Chair envy,” I sighed.

But PT37 does not entertain my fondness for anything even vaguely related to dependence on something other than my own two feet for walking.  She just said, ” Yeah, no.”  And we kept on practicing.