The In ‘N Outpatient by Kris Harty

Nurses are legendary for macabre humor. Patients, too, often lean toward a sick sense of humor – pun intended.

Maybe that explains this article.

I was introduced early on to the sometimes (but we all know not always) wacky world of wheelchairs. Chairs have been with me through most of my existence on an as-needed basis, mostly for long treks. Maybe it’ll be more than that one day. If so, count on more stories.

My first experience with a wheelchair was during my three-month hospital stint in first grade, during a difficult diagnosis of Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. The drabness of those days was broken up by another patient’s brief but impactful antics.

Doug was my brother’s friend. At a young age, he acquired a reputation for perpetually looking for activities new, daring and fun.

When Doug found out I was a couple rooms away, he scurried over, plopped himself down in the wheelchair by my bed, and promptly began doing wheelies in my room. “Hey, can I take this out to the hall?”

Whooooooooooosh. Evel Knievel had nothing on this kid.

“Doug! Stop! NOW.”

Screeeech!  He and his victims couldn’t have been in a better place to be fixed up.

Different hospital, couple decades later. This time, my first total knee replacement.

My visiting friend’s experience with wheelchairs was limited. Jim was intrigued by the one I sat in. “What does this part do? What about that part?”

Poking around the chair, he spotted a small lever. “This looks like it should…” as his hand monkeyed with the mechanism.

“*#%$!@!!!!” Down fell my newly operated-on knee, bandages, staples and all.

Curiously quiet, we stared at each other. “You ok?”

“I think so. It’s so bandaged up, I don’t think I could bend my knee if I tried.”

While on vacation in my 20s, a certain relative with a penchant for threatening to let go of my wheelchair, came across a ramp too perfect to resist. We’d always discussed our theories as to what would happen without an attached human braker.

This time, we found out. Without any drag, wheelchairs go mighty fast on big huge slanty ramps. Momentum is an amazing thing.

Imagine:  two adults accelerating from 0 to 60 in seconds flat, screaming and hightailing it after a runaway wheelchair, grabbing hold moments before the ramp ran out of …well, ramp.

A decade later, wheelchair adventures awaited at the Kentucky Derby. Friends and I prepped ourselves for inspection at the track. One of the rules:  no alcohol brought in. Being a ‘rules are made to be broken’ kind of crowd, we took this as a challenge.

Banking on the hunch they wouldn’t make a youthful looking adult stand up from her wheelchair, my friends loaded me up, so to speak, and in rather ingenious ways, I must admit. Role models? At that moment, not so much. Memory makers? For a lifetime.

And thus a contrabanded wheelchair gave birth to the reign of Vodka Boobs.

Who said wheelchairs have no fun?

Stickability Specialist Kris Harty helps healthcare teams persevere through Compassion Fatigue. Kris is Chief Inspiration Officer of Strong Spirit Unlimited. By sharing Stickabilities, or tools, she learned from her own medically challenging life requiring a Walking Stick, Kris encourages healthcare professionals to Stick to it – no matter what! Diagnosed at age seven with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis, she draws on 40 years of insight, research and stories as a healthcare recipient. She is the patient who now returns to say “You make a difference. Thank you.” Her message is content-rich, practical, engaging and inspiring – and sporadically funny. Kris reduces burnout, turnover, and Compassion Fatigue by re-engaging healthcare professionals, particularly nurses. Kris Harty is an inspirational keynote speaker, author and small group facilitator who helps people overcome challenges by creating unstoppable momentum in life and work. Clients say her message is life changing. Call 877.711.STICK, e-mail StrongSpirit@StrongSpiritUnlimited.com, or visit  www.StrongSpiritUnlimited.com.