I'm going to make a bet.
I'll wager that there are millions of Americans suffering from diseases and injuries of the spinal cord who would love more than life itself to hop out of their wheelchairs--if only for a minute--and ride a $2000.00 mountain bike alongside their president.
Today we learned Mr. Bush wants them to be patient a little longer. Today the president pulled the rug out from under physically challenged Americans. I'm not surprised, nor I'm sure are they.
These disabled Americans won't be as fortunate as the double-amputee Iraq veteran who got to run around the White House track with his president.
Americans suffering from spinal cord injuries will have to wait for that dreamed of bike ride. You see, Mr. Bush doesn't recognize that these people deserve the blessing of cascading through the mountains of Maryland as much as he does. Not our monstrous little president.
This isn't a diary about stem cells per se. It's about strength and inner resolve. It's about a woman I went to college with many years ago. A woman who happened to be paralyzed. She was by far the strongest person I've ever known. Strong in mind and body.
And I know she'll do just fine as our government plays abortion politics with her life.
In those days, we didn't even have a word for stem cells, so she just made do. There were no miracles on the horizon. Her life was difficult--by no means insurmountable--inconvenient, but essentially good. We lost touch but if memory serves me, she went on to law school.
I think my friend would be both incensed and amused that her right to walk has become a political game to the extremists running our government.
Amused? Yes because I always sensed from her that she expected nothing--except an opportunity to be treated as a full-fledged human being.
Have any of you ever had a friend like this? A friend or relative or co-worker who is paralyzed? A human being who for one reason or another can't move a large chunk of his body? I hope at least some of you have, because for me it was transformative and a privilege.
I don't intend to sound clinical and I actually have a smile on my face remembering this special person. ButI'm thinking about all the physical challenges we casually surmounted. Even dealing with a wheelchair seemed much more effortless back then. Maybe it was the stupidity of youth. Who knows.
After we became friends, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world that she couldn't move her lower extremities or walk. You learned quickly--certainly I did, to scout the non-obstructed restaurants, the quickest elevators, the flatest routes. I learned what "leveling the playing field" really meant. But if she was anything, she was one of the most industrious and plucky human beings I've ever known. Never heard her complain, not once. Kind of amazing.
In the late seventies, I don't think we had the Americans with Disabilities Act. We certainly didn't have buses which accomodated wheelchairs, so we spent most of our time in the college neighborhood where we we both lived. And we had fun.
I remember how much she loved to bowl. Yes, she bowled from her wheelchair. She sort of leaned down, took aim and the ball sailed down the alley.
There was basically nothing this girl couldn't do except walk.
Flash forward to July 19, 2006.
I'm not sad today for people confined to wheelchairs because if they're anything like my friend Jessica, they have learned that brute strength is their only true friend.
Have you ever seen the arms of a person confined to a wheelchair? Gleaming muscles. These are the arms of a warrior.
I know what Mr. Bush is thinking tonight. These people don't need $1000.00 mountain bikes, they have their wheelchairs.