I didn't want to call the fire department. No one does. Unless they have to. You see, I sort of got myself into a situation. Not immediately life-threatening, yet not exactly life-affirming either. At least there was plenty of time for solutions; dozens of minutes, a couple of hours, but perhaps not much more than that.
Eh, I'm being too dramatic here. Everything was absolutely fine. Yes, I knew everything would work out … eventually.
The Basics
What I'll do is explain what happened, from the beginning. Not the very beginning. Nobody has time for that.
At 10:17 a.m. this morning the garage door repairman arrived. Why was he necessary? Well, two evenings prior, the upper portion of the garage door split down the middle. And if not to scale, a nearly faithful rendition of the San Andreas Fault appeared, leaving the operation of the automatic garage door in question.
At first, I thought I'd be stuck inside the garage forever and ever, amen. Or at least, until someone could repair the broken nature of the garage door apparatus. With the way I am currently situated, there is no other means to outdoor freedom.
So I did what anybody else would do in my situation, and I contacted a garage door repair operation the following day.
I already knew why it happened, what the exact problem was. Back about five years ago (when the previous repairman put in a new automatic garage door opening system), he didn't attach the lift arm properly. And directly due to this failing, the garage door was slightly bowed up top, pulled inward where the arm connects to the upper door frame. Of course, I had no way of knowing this until I recently moved into the garage. I wasn't available back then, when they originally fixed the original problem … you know, back when I was in survival mode, stuck in bed … all that.
Anyways, when the split occurred, nuts and bolts came raining down upon me as the garage door was opening. No, I wasn't injured. But it took several minutes to figure out that we could still open the garage door manually. So that's what I've been doing for the past 24 hours - manually lifting up the garage door to let in the cool air overnight, and then shutting the door during the daylight hours to keep some semblance of coolness inside.
So this morning, after the repair guy estimator departed, I headed outdoors for a late-morning roll around the village. I wanted to get out before the heat became unbearable. No, 95° isn't incredibly hot, but my black on black chair sucks in, and then maintains, all the warmth.
When I came back home 20 minutes later (around noon) I tried to lift the garage door manually, but it would only open partially. So I struggled and struggled, before becoming too exhausted to do anything else besides sit there beneath the blazing sun, contemplating my immediate future.
Fortuitous Timing
It just so happened that one of my neighbors came by, a young woman in a pink bikini. At first I wasn't going to ask her (admittedly, I hate asking for help), but then I decided “help” was more important than my temporarily fractured ego. Nope, I wouldn't be able to solve the problem on my own. I couldn't very well sit outside in the broiling heat all day long. Or for that matter, I couldn't sit outside in the heat until the repair people came on Monday, three days after the fact.
I briefly considered my options. But really, where could a wheelchair person possibly go to hang out for several days successively, a place catering to my needs?
Well, I figured I might be able to sneak back into the nursing home unannounced. Maybe they wouldn't realize that I didn't live there any longer.
I also considered the possibly hanging out at the Dollar Store, the local marijuana dispensary, or perhaps even the library. But none of those places is open 24 hours a day. Plus, I'd eventually have to go to the bathroom. And where exactly would I do that? Each of my survival supplies remained inside the garage.
So, per my request, my bikini neighbor pulled and tugged, trying to raise the garage door (to no avail). And as a matter of fact, during her struggle, one of the glass window panels shattered, raining down glass shards at her feet.
“Do you want to come over to my place, hang out inside my garage until you figure something out?” she offered.
“Well, that sounds like a reasonable option, and I appreciate the offer, but …” I responded, processing options all the while.
With my necessary items locked inside the garage, finding my way into her condo wouldn't cut the mustard.
I briefly thought about contacting my wife, who was at work, but quickly realized that she didn't need to stress. Plus, there would be nothing she could do to help me from a dozen miles away.
“Or, you can come inside my condo. It's air conditioned. And I'm pretty sure your wheelchair will fit through the doorway. Plus, I'm on the first floor.”
I thanked her for the options and suggestions, deciding to roll across the way into her garage and ponder my options. Getting out of the direct sunlight seemed to be the highest priority.
Again, she afforded me the opportunity to go inside her condo, but again, if I was inside her condo and had to go to the bathroom … I mean, how would that work? I can't use an actual real bathroom. And I really wasn't quite ready for that level of embarrassment, trying to do so.
As I was rolling across the cobblestone drive, my new upstairs-across-the-way neighbor offered her assistance, as well. She insisted I go into her garage and hang out there instead. But her garage has more direct sun exposure, likely meaning it was hotter inside.
Decisions Rendered
I immediately decided to call the fire department, the non-emergency number. I figured the firefighters could physically carry me inside the condo through the front door, then deposit me in my bed inside the garage.
Note: I had to use a service before, back when I was mostly immobilized and the medical transport people were afraid to carry me back up the stairs after being in the hospital. They call it a “Lift” service.
My suggested call to the fire department seemed to be the most reasonable option to my neighbor. Then again, I'm quite sure she had little desire to acquire a weekend roommate. Assuming the issue would soon be resolved, I asked her if I could temporarily park my power wheelchair in her garage, until the repair people did their repair thing on Monday. She didn't have a problem with that temporary solution. As a matter of fact, and despite the overall inconvenience, she was very kind throughout my mini ordeal. Of course, I felt slightly embarrassed, having possibly made a series of poor decisions, but she was non-critical.
Over the phone, I instructed the non-emergency fire department operator to send an engine, but without sirens blaring and lights flashing.
“That's not a problem. They'll be there in a few minutes.”
I immediately had a sinking feeling. A few minutes? It wasn't a real emergency situation, yet… but it was already in the '90s, and heating up fast. So there was some urgency, I suppose.
Then, within 45 seconds, I could hear the sirens off in the distance. Damn it!
Upon arrival, I immediately informed them of the non-emergency nature of the situation.
So, they also tried to open the garage door manually, and failed. However, after entering through the main doorway, they were able to disassemble a few broken components, then manually open the garage door. That saved them the effort of having to unceremoniously carry me and my heavy bones through and beyond the threshold.
In addition, they also swept up all the broken glass and random nuts and bolts (the ones that rained down from above).
I apologized to the fire department personnel several times, but they were very supportive. They mentioned seeing me roll around the neighborhood on a few occasions, and appreciated my efforts in maintaining a form of normalcy in my everyday life.
Aftermath
So now I'm stuck in the garage, shut in until the repairs are made. Hopefully the estimate is reasonable. I just sold $300 worth of my Liquid Hope feeding formula, the stuff that made me physically ill for an extended period of time, so I'm hoping that amount covers the cost. But probably it won't.
Lessons Earned
This was really the first time my bold behavior had gotten into trouble. Ever since I got out of bed (after seven years) and into this wheelchair, I've pushed, pulled, and prodded the envelope. But it’s been entirely necessary for me to do so. All tall, I've missed a decade of normal life due to this mysterious illness. And I'd rather die or get killed doing the things I do, mainly, real tangible things in real life, as opposed to taking the safe route and perishing in bed - the place where I've been stuck for a greater portion of the past decade.
So that's the end of that, for now. I'm going to do what I can just stretch this out this garage living, so that I may continue having the freedom to roam. Although now my adventures and forays into the abyss are limited to the early morning excursions and late night roaming.
UPDATE 4:22p.m.
The garage door company called, explaining it'll take three weeks to receive the new matching garage door panel. So now I am apprehensive? Feeling pensive. Or something. Not sure.
It's unlikely I'd be able to last down here until May 1st. So probably, I'll have to arrange something.
UPDATE 7:11p.m.
The technician who was out earlier in the day explained that he could fix the garage door sometime next week. So that's some good news right there (besides the cost, at $577).
I also asked him if I (my wife) could detach the motor arm ourselves, and in so doing, be granted easy (and safe) access in and out of the garage without worrying that it would get jammed up again … until a more permanent solution is put in place.
He gave me the thumbs up over the phone. I could literally hear his thumb activating, pointing upward towards the double blue desert sky.
Thank you for reading. Take care.
Howard
As a friend told me, Sherbet Sky-
And no, this is not digitally enhanced or altered or anything. The evening sky really looked exactly like this.
Broken Like Me
Eh, I'm being too dramatic here. Everything was absolutely fine. Yes, I knew everything would work out … eventually.
The Basics
What I'll do is explain what happened, from the beginning. Not the very beginning. Nobody has time for that.
At 10:17 a.m. this morning the garage door repairman arrived. Why was he necessary? Well, two evenings prior, the upper portion of the garage door split down the middle. And if not to scale, a nearly faithful rendition of the San Andreas Fault appeared, leaving the operation of the automatic garage door in question.
At first, I thought I'd be stuck inside the garage forever and ever, amen. Or at least, until someone could repair the broken nature of the garage door apparatus. With the way I am currently situated, there is no other means to outdoor freedom.
So I did what anybody else would do in my situation, and I contacted a garage door repair operation the following day.
I already knew why it happened, what the exact problem was. Back about five years ago (when the previous repairman put in a new automatic garage door opening system), he didn't attach the lift arm properly. And directly due to this failing, the garage door was slightly bowed up top, pulled inward where the arm connects to the upper door frame. Of course, I had no way of knowing this until I recently moved into the garage. I wasn't available back then, when they originally fixed the original problem … you know, back when I was in survival mode, stuck in bed … all that.
Anyways, when the split occurred, nuts and bolts came raining down upon me as the garage door was opening. No, I wasn't injured. But it took several minutes to figure out that we could still open the garage door manually. So that's what I've been doing for the past 24 hours - manually lifting up the garage door to let in the cool air overnight, and then shutting the door during the daylight hours to keep some semblance of coolness inside.
So this morning, after the repair guy estimator departed, I headed outdoors for a late-morning roll around the village. I wanted to get out before the heat became unbearable. No, 95° isn't incredibly hot, but my black on black chair sucks in, and then maintains, all the warmth.
When I came back home 20 minutes later (around noon) I tried to lift the garage door manually, but it would only open partially. So I struggled and struggled, before becoming too exhausted to do anything else besides sit there beneath the blazing sun, contemplating my immediate future.
Fortuitous Timing
It just so happened that one of my neighbors came by, a young woman in a pink bikini. At first I wasn't going to ask her (admittedly, I hate asking for help), but then I decided “help” was more important than my temporarily fractured ego. Nope, I wouldn't be able to solve the problem on my own. I couldn't very well sit outside in the broiling heat all day long. Or for that matter, I couldn't sit outside in the heat until the repair people came on Monday, three days after the fact.
I briefly considered my options. But really, where could a wheelchair person possibly go to hang out for several days successively, a place catering to my needs?
Well, I figured I might be able to sneak back into the nursing home unannounced. Maybe they wouldn't realize that I didn't live there any longer.
I also considered the possibly hanging out at the Dollar Store, the local marijuana dispensary, or perhaps even the library. But none of those places is open 24 hours a day. Plus, I'd eventually have to go to the bathroom. And where exactly would I do that? Each of my survival supplies remained inside the garage.
So, per my request, my bikini neighbor pulled and tugged, trying to raise the garage door (to no avail). And as a matter of fact, during her struggle, one of the glass window panels shattered, raining down glass shards at her feet.
“Do you want to come over to my place, hang out inside my garage until you figure something out?” she offered.
“Well, that sounds like a reasonable option, and I appreciate the offer, but …” I responded, processing options all the while.
With my necessary items locked inside the garage, finding my way into her condo wouldn't cut the mustard.
I briefly thought about contacting my wife, who was at work, but quickly realized that she didn't need to stress. Plus, there would be nothing she could do to help me from a dozen miles away.
“Or, you can come inside my condo. It's air conditioned. And I'm pretty sure your wheelchair will fit through the doorway. Plus, I'm on the first floor.”
I thanked her for the options and suggestions, deciding to roll across the way into her garage and ponder my options. Getting out of the direct sunlight seemed to be the highest priority.
Again, she afforded me the opportunity to go inside her condo, but again, if I was inside her condo and had to go to the bathroom … I mean, how would that work? I can't use an actual real bathroom. And I really wasn't quite ready for that level of embarrassment, trying to do so.
As I was rolling across the cobblestone drive, my new upstairs-across-the-way neighbor offered her assistance, as well. She insisted I go into her garage and hang out there instead. But her garage has more direct sun exposure, likely meaning it was hotter inside.
Decisions Rendered
I immediately decided to call the fire department, the non-emergency number. I figured the firefighters could physically carry me inside the condo through the front door, then deposit me in my bed inside the garage.
Note: I had to use a service before, back when I was mostly immobilized and the medical transport people were afraid to carry me back up the stairs after being in the hospital. They call it a “Lift” service.
My suggested call to the fire department seemed to be the most reasonable option to my neighbor. Then again, I'm quite sure she had little desire to acquire a weekend roommate. Assuming the issue would soon be resolved, I asked her if I could temporarily park my power wheelchair in her garage, until the repair people did their repair thing on Monday. She didn't have a problem with that temporary solution. As a matter of fact, and despite the overall inconvenience, she was very kind throughout my mini ordeal. Of course, I felt slightly embarrassed, having possibly made a series of poor decisions, but she was non-critical.
Over the phone, I instructed the non-emergency fire department operator to send an engine, but without sirens blaring and lights flashing.
“That's not a problem. They'll be there in a few minutes.”
I immediately had a sinking feeling. A few minutes? It wasn't a real emergency situation, yet… but it was already in the '90s, and heating up fast. So there was some urgency, I suppose.
Then, within 45 seconds, I could hear the sirens off in the distance. Damn it!
Upon arrival, I immediately informed them of the non-emergency nature of the situation.
So, they also tried to open the garage door manually, and failed. However, after entering through the main doorway, they were able to disassemble a few broken components, then manually open the garage door. That saved them the effort of having to unceremoniously carry me and my heavy bones through and beyond the threshold.
In addition, they also swept up all the broken glass and random nuts and bolts (the ones that rained down from above).
I apologized to the fire department personnel several times, but they were very supportive. They mentioned seeing me roll around the neighborhood on a few occasions, and appreciated my efforts in maintaining a form of normalcy in my everyday life.
Aftermath
So now I'm stuck in the garage, shut in until the repairs are made. Hopefully the estimate is reasonable. I just sold $300 worth of my Liquid Hope feeding formula, the stuff that made me physically ill for an extended period of time, so I'm hoping that amount covers the cost. But probably it won't.
Lessons Earned
This was really the first time my bold behavior had gotten into trouble. Ever since I got out of bed (after seven years) and into this wheelchair, I've pushed, pulled, and prodded the envelope. But it’s been entirely necessary for me to do so. All tall, I've missed a decade of normal life due to this mysterious illness. And I'd rather die or get killed doing the things I do, mainly, real tangible things in real life, as opposed to taking the safe route and perishing in bed - the place where I've been stuck for a greater portion of the past decade.
So that's the end of that, for now. I'm going to do what I can just stretch this out this garage living, so that I may continue having the freedom to roam. Although now my adventures and forays into the abyss are limited to the early morning excursions and late night roaming.
UPDATE 4:22p.m.
The garage door company called, explaining it'll take three weeks to receive the new matching garage door panel. So now I am apprehensive? Feeling pensive. Or something. Not sure.
It's unlikely I'd be able to last down here until May 1st. So probably, I'll have to arrange something.
UPDATE 7:11p.m.
The technician who was out earlier in the day explained that he could fix the garage door sometime next week. So that's some good news right there (besides the cost, at $577).
I also asked him if I (my wife) could detach the motor arm ourselves, and in so doing, be granted easy (and safe) access in and out of the garage without worrying that it would get jammed up again … until a more permanent solution is put in place.
He gave me the thumbs up over the phone. I could literally hear his thumb activating, pointing upward towards the double blue desert sky.
Thank you for reading. Take care.
Howard
As a friend told me, Sherbet Sky-
And no, this is not digitally enhanced or altered or anything. The evening sky really looked exactly like this.
Broken Like Me
