Denial and Consequence

Denial and Consequence

            It was early; the hallways of my high school were pretty much deserted. With Cyndi Lauper's voice still echoing in my head, I grabbed my joystick and pushed it forward as far as it could go. My chair started with a jolt and soon the lockers that lined the hallways began to blur together. The speckled linoleum floors soon became a muted shade of gray. I don't remember actually thinking about anything other than the fact that I was going fast, faster than I had ever gone before. Air that smelled of stale coffee whipped through my hair. The feeling of it sent a jolt of power and electricity through my whole body. I felt freer, more alive than I had in a long time. I felt as if, my wheelchair had disappeared for one brief moment in time. Sure, it was there underneath me, moving me propelling me forward but I didn't feel confined by it physically.

            There, alone speeding down the hallway I could be the real me. There was no one else around, looking at me, judging me and telling me what to do. I could finally be just like everyone else. I could be the person I wanted everyone else to see. My euphoric feeling lasted until I came to a corner. In front of me was the gymnasium and to my left was a shorter hallway that would lead directly to my Spanish class. I always took the shorter hallway; I always went where I was supposed to go and did exactly what was expected of me.

            Today, I'd had enough I wanted to do something wild, stupid and completely out of control. I didn't want my stupid chair or cerebral palsy to define me anymore. Taking a route I wasn't supposed to take, a detour seemed important and necessary. I knew people had misperceptions of me and I was fed up with it. Yeah, I know it was essentially going right instead of left, but at least it was a start. To top it all off the gym doors were open, I wouldn't even have to work that hard to rebel, this was fantastic! I went through those gym doors because it felt right. It felt like just the right amount of spontaneity and plus, there was nobody around to tell me no.

            Growing up mainstreamed in a public school system, it felt like I was always being told no for one reason or another. No you can't go up the hill to watch the other kids play soccer at recess, your wheelchair can’t handle it. No, you can't ride the school bus with everyone else because that bus doesn't have a wheelchair lift. No, you can't take honors English; we don't think you'll be able to handle the physical demands of doing that much writing.

            I hated the word no and could never understand why on Earth I had to hear it so much. I used to ask myself things like: why can't they see me the way that I see me? After all, I'm just a normal person trapped in a body that doesn't work quite right. I have the same thoughts and feelings as everybody else does, there is nothing wrong with me, and I’m not different.

            I realize now, several years later that those feelings and frustrations stemmed from the fact that I was at or above the same academic level as many of my classmates. Inside the classroom, teachers did whatever they could to include me. I was expected to complete the same assignments in nearly the same amount of time as everyone else. As for my classmates, the chair was an obvious social barrier but I just figured it was their problem to deal with, not mine. Looking back, I see that no one ever really made fun of me, even if I may have deserved it. I mean, who wants to be the douche bag that makes fun of the girl in the wheelchair. They would face ridicule, be socially ostracized and nobody really wants that.

            I guess hindsight is always 20/20, I can tell you honestly now that I think my academic achievements clouded the picture I had of myself. Back then I thought having all the right answers in class and being praised for it meant everything. I looked down on the others in my high school whom I viewed as” less intelligent” than myself. My intellectual snobbishness really showed, when I was around someone with a mental or physical disability. I would give anything I could to separate myself from them, not wanting to be lumped into the same category.

            One vivid example comes to mind, involving a freshman boy named Danny and French fries being used as a projectile. Danny was a tall, skinny kid with kind eyes. He was one of the sweetest people you could ever meet but he had obvious cognitive impairments. Danny took things literally and would believe whatever you told him, especially if you were older.

            The same month that I made mine now infamous trip to the school gym, a bunch of us were having lunch in the cafeteria. Danny was there, along with Paul Bernard a.k.a. King of the douche bags. Danny idolized Paul and Paul made fun of Danny behind his back. On that day in the cafeteria, Paul crossed a major line and I did nothing. I was sitting there, eating my peanut butter and sugar sandwich when I witnessed the following:

            Paul sees Danny enter the cafeteria. He turns to his buddies and laughing says,” watch this.” Paul starts walking towards Danny, greets him with a jovial slap on the back and they both walked towards Paul's friends like they were old pals. I see Paul whisper something in Danny's ear. Danny laughs loudly, the same way that Goofy would in a Disney cartoon. Then, I watched as Danny walked several feet in front of Paul and put his back to him. Danny just stood there, as Paul and his friends launched greasy French fry after greasy French fry at him. The fries hit the back of Danny's head and neck. They slid down his back and some even got stuck in his hair. He didn't say anything,, he just stood there smiling probably happy to be included. Soon, others around them became aware of what was happening and there were cries of outrage. Danny's health care aide was summoned to the lunchroom to retrieve Danny. When Danny was leaving Paul yelled out,” thanks for the target practice” Danny once again laughed like Goofy.

            For the next several hours at school, the incident in the cafeteria was all that people could talk about. Most were outraged and disgusted. All I could think during that time was, I can't believe it. Something like that would never happen to me. I'm way too smart for that. I'm sure as hell glad it wasn't me!

            I think one of my biggest problems in high school was that I was in the land of make-believe. Take the Danny and Paul situation for example, I knew it was wrong that was certain but in some weird way it I felt like Danny deserved it. I remember thinking, that it was sort of his fault. In my mind, he put himself in that situation. He was too trusting and gullible. He didn't see people for who and what they really were.

            I know that I was definitely living in that land of make-believe when I rolled into the gymnasium. It seemed darker than usual but that seemed to add to the fun and danger of and all. That little voice that sometimes went off like a warning bell inside my head. Somewhere deep down inside, I knew I shouldn't be there. Something about it just felt wrong. Instead of listening to that little voice, I decided to replace it with the chorus of Girls Just Want to Have Fun. It was after all, the song that inspired this little joyride I was on            Minutes before I have heard it blaring out of Breanna Barker's new iPod. The melody of the song got stuck in my head and something inside me snapped. Before I could even fully comprehend what was happening, I was inside a pitch-black gymnasium, barreling towards an exit sign and an open door. This felt like proof to me that my wheelchair didn't mean it is not as other people thought it did. The chair was just a thing I used, a helpful tool. In those brief exhilarating moments I was determined not to let a wheelchair or a muscular disorder like cerebral palsy stand in my way or define me.

            As I was speeding along towards the exit sign I kept repeating phrases like, I will not be defined by my disability, over and over again in my head. I was so into mantra mode that I close my eyes for just a minute. That's when a loud cracking sound reached my ears. My eyes flew open and darted around the room. The darkness was totally disorienting.

            Once I realized where was, I quickly took stock of the situation. My wheels were spinning. I was almost doubled over my joystick and being strangled by my seatbelt. My battery gauge was flashing, RED YELLOW GREEN, RED YELLOW GREEN. I managed to lean back and take a deep breath. My wheels were still spinning. The controller that housed my battery gauge and my joystick was wedged either up against or underneath something. I took both my hands and pushed up-and-down on the controller as hard as I could. After a few tense moments I managed to free it. I jerked the joystick back as hard as I could, trying to ignore the loud crunching sound I heard when I moved away from whatever it was that I hit.

            I move backwards slowly and cautiously, making a mental note that I was in the middle of the gymnasium. I went around the giant heap of distraction, made my way to the door and left the room without looking back. In the harsh glare of florescent light, I began to notice things. My footrests were scoffed and had white and orange paint flakes embedded in them. The Velcro straps that held my feet in place seemed slightly more frayed than usual. The metal tubing that connected my footrests to the rest of my wheelchair had thin white scratches all over them. My seat cushion looked relatively unharmed. Then my eyes settled on my left armrest, there seemed to be a small rip in its upholstery.

            It was then that salty streams began flowing from my eyes. It wasn't because of any physical pain and the shock of hitting something had worn off. It was guilt. I could suddenly relate to the frantic mother who loses her child momentarily in a shopping mall. The thing I was sitting in and had always taken for granted now seemed like a living breathing organism. I put my hand on the left armrest and rubbed it apologetically. As I made my way out of the gymnasium I turned the corner to go down the short hallway.

            When I arrived in Spanish class, the gravity of what had just happened began to sink in. It started with a sharp pinprick to my lower back and then escalated to a dull ache. I am moved uncomfortably in my seat, trying unsuccessfully to act nonchalant. As I drive underneath my desk I can feel my Spanish teacher's eyes on me. I say nothing, afraid that if I did she would hear the quiver welling up in my voice.

            Now that I am in the proper position I turn off my chair and rest my hand on my hands. The evolving pain in my back is getting worse and I can feel every muscle in my body begin to stiffen. I try to fight the oncoming spasms but I don't even have enough energy to mentally chastise myself for being so incredibly stupid. All I can do is sit there silently and let the waves of pain wash over me.

            Under normal circumstances, I would have tried to fight against the spastic rigidity of my body but at that moment it seemed pointless. I knew that I would eventually be found out, it was only a matter of time. The pain had actually gotten so bad at that point, that I was just about to say something to my teacher, when their teaching assistant Aaron walked in the room. I was momentarily distracted from my back pain by the giddy expression on his face. He looked like an excited child ready to rip open the largest package on Christmas morning. Arianne was also bouncing from foot to foot, which I found slightly disconcerting.

            With a quick greeting to the teacher, he motioned for me to follow him out of the room. The whole thing seemed a little off but I followed him anyway, thinking that moving around a little bit when help my muscles relax. I was wrong. Just outside the classroom I watched as Aaron's grin got wider and wider, nearly taking up half his face.

            ” Dude, you are never going to believe what happened.” He said, as I wiped little droplets of spittle from my cheek.

            Trying to ignore the now throbbing pain in my back I said,” what, what happened? ”

            ” Some of the Seniors and Juniors, pulled off the most epic prank ever in the history of the school!”

            ” Wow, they must have really done something great to get that kind of reaction out of you.”

            ” It's unbelievable, you just have to come see it for yourself.” He went around me and started walking down the hallway, obviously expecting me to follow. Again, thinking that moving would decrease my pain, I turned on my chair and followed closely behind him. In order to keep the pain of spasms under control, I paid attention to nothing except the incredible whiteness of Aaron's sneakers and the strange whistling that seemed to be coming from my chair. The whistling seemed to get louder and louder, the further we traveled down the hallway. My head was about ready to explode from the ear piercing pain of it all, when we reached the gymnasium.

            Quite a large crowd was gathered there, they were all talking excitedly about something that I was too short to see. Right as I was about ready to give up, head back to Spanish and admit that I had done something stupid and was now in excruciating pain, the crowd parted. There in the middle of the gymnasium, was a rusted out station wagon. My mouth formed a perfect Circle and I began to cry again.

            My poor chair and I had hit a car. No wonder I was in excruciating pain. The moment I saw that car, was the moment I stopped pretending that I was normal. The wheelchair and cerebral palsy were and are forever part of my life. As much as I didn't want to see my wheelchair or acknowledge the physical limitations of my disability, they were here to stay. The pain in my back it eventually got so bad, that I had to admit what I had done. I had to deal with the consequences of my denial.