Literally

Mom went to her bedroom for an afternoon nap while the Red Menace recharged its battery. A couple of hours later she called out to me to come and unplug the wheelchair.

“Look at how fast it charged,” she commented as I disengaged the three-prong plug from the receptacle on the end of the chair’s right armrest and turned it on. The power display lit up in a bright little half circle around the joy stick, glowing from red to yellow to green. “It’s all green,” she said as she watched to power dial light up. “That’s amazing.”

“Yup, pretty remarkable,” I commented while I nudged the joystick to jockey it over to the side of the bed so she could hop on.

She plopped down in the seat, quickly re-engaged the joystick and made an abrupt turn to the left, missing my feet by a millimeter, as she motored quickly toward the master bath. “I’ve gotta hit the john,” she called over her shoulder as she made a sharp right into the short entry hall to the bathroom.

She disappeared around the corner while I stood next to her dresser winding up the charger’s cord. As I listened to her progress, I could hear the Red Menace crash against the dressing table, then bounce off the doorway leading into her walk-in closet, followed by agonized grating as she scraped across the bathroom door frame. After much scruffing and scratching, she cleared the opening and then proceeded to plow into the front of the vanity before coming to rest, I’m guessing, mere inches from the toilet.

As I left the room, I called over my shoulder, “When you said you had to hit the john, I didn’t think you meant it literally.”

“Well I did,” she shouted back. “I literally really, really had to go!”

car crash

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