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To date one of my favorite classes that I have ever taken in my DPT (doctor of physical therapy) course work was the class where we learned to teach patients how to use assistive devices (wheelchairs, walkers, canes, crutches, the like). As I'm sure you can tell, literally just by my writing these stories and from my previous works in this series, I am the adventurous, mischievous type. I love to get into things that I probably shouldn't and play with things that are not necessarily toys. You can see how this class would be right up by alley, yes?
At the time, my lab partner was a girl by the name of Mae. She and I had known each other for a long time via clubs in undergrad and had amount a fair amount of time getting to know each other so I knew a little bit about her family, especially since she liked to talk about them. Mae has an older brother who has been wheelchair bound since he was little, so she has a lot of knowledge about wheelchairs and their use and all the fun little tricks about them. This came in handy when we had a lab over wheelchairs. Technically it was a 2 day lab: the first day was spent learning about the wheelchairs and getting used to navigating with them on flat surfaces; the second day would be dedicated to transfers in and out of the wheelchair and navigating uneven surfaces and curbs. On the first day, we had been told explicitly not to do any wheelies or try any tricks before we were given a wheelchair and told to go practice in our partner groups. Mae and I liked to work with another pair of girls, Leah and Ana, creating a group of four that allowed us to experiment more and bounce ideas off a greater audience. We, as a group, very much like to use the socratic method of learning.
The wheelchair Mae and I were working with on day 1 was the same type of wheelchair her brother uses: the lightweight transportable model. You'll most commonly see them with people who are wheelchair bound due to injury that affects their waist down. They are the ones that kinda just look like tiny chairs on large wheels without high backs and a single foot rest. Naturally, that meant that Mae knew all the ins-and-outs of the wheelchair and knew how to do all the tricks. Leah and Ana were working with a normal wheelchair that day.
When we set out to practice navigating the wheelchairs initially- Mae making us all look like noobs- the four of us stayed in the classroom. It added an extra challenge of not only learning how to drive and turn the wheelchairs, but also avoid obstacles like tables, chair, and backpacks. We quickly got a handle on things and graduated from basic navigation/driving skills to new games. Leah and I race each other through the hallways of the graduate school with the occasional assistive push of either Mae or Ana. They would specifically time the pushes for when we would not be expecting them, so all of a sudden we would be flying forwards down the hallway. Occasionally it would scare us and a startled shout would slip out, disturbing other classes in the building. One time, Mae gave me a push a little to close to when we were turning a corner. I nearly pulled a one sided wheelie trying to control speed and make the corner without crashing into the wall or Leah; I was successful in avoiding Leah, not so much the wall. There is now a tell-tale mark and black scuff mark from the wheelchair on the wall. We still haven't told anyone that was us. When I managed to right myself and come to a stop, both Mae and Ana were looking at me with wide eyes and Mae was mid "I'm-coming-to-get-you-out-of-that-chair-so-you don't-get-hurt". None of the three of us moved as Leah sped on down the hall, unaware of the chaos behind her. After a moment, we all fell into a fit of giggles as soon as I smiled with the acceleration of the adrenaline rush. That wasn't the end of our games. The next game occurred back in the classroom when the hallways got to crowded. Ana and Leah had wanted to return to take a few notes; in the meantime, Mae and I raced obstacle courses through the classroom, racing each other from one end of the classroom to the other. This time, Mae was lucky enough to have the easily navigated lightweight wheelchair while I was in the regular wheelchair. I ran into nearly everything, yelping as I smashed fingers or toes into tables and apologizing to absent classmates when I ran over their backpacks. At one point, one of our lab professors walked into the room, pulling my attention from the race. Without my eyes forward, my wheelchair ran straight into one of the treatment tables and bounced backwards; I managed to catch it by breaking before I rolled back into the table behind me. The professor raised an eyebrow at me, which I responded to by waving and smiling as innocently as I can, and turned around to head back into the hallways.
Eventually we got bored of our racing games and moved on to pick Mae's brain about all the tricks she knew. The one we were most interested in learning: the wheelie. Mae had been popping wheelies all morning when she felt no one was watching and could maintain it for a about 5 minutes (yes, we timed her). Slowly, we talked Mae into teaching us, despite the warnings of our professors. Leah and I were the two in the wheelchairs at the time; Leah in the lightweight and myself in the regular. After talking us through the process, Mae took turns tipping Leah and I backwards to that we could experience what it should feel like. Then, since Leah was in the wheelchair that was more mobile, she helped Leah achieve the wheelie via coaching and aid in tipping backwards. After a few minutes, she switched to me, careful to instruct us not to try the wheelies without her spotting us. It was much more difficult to learn in a regular wheelchair. Generally speaking though, regular wheelchairs are not made to do wheelies in. They are meant to be stable, sturdy, and grounded (mostly grounded). It's generally a bad idea for the doctors and medical companies when a patient who has to be in a wheelchair is launched out of it. Eventually, I did get it though, falling out of the wheel and slamming the front wheels down so hard that we were a little worried about them breaking. Once Mae felt comfortable with Leah and I practicing on our own, she let us practice without direct supervision while she finished a few notes; she generally still kept an eye on us. Towards the end of class, Leah and I finally gave up the wheelchairs to Ana as we started to clean up, putting away the regular wheelchair while Mae talked her through popping a wheelie on the lightweight. Mae didn't spot Ana as closely as she did us, but Ana also seemed to pick the skill up more quickly that Leah and I did. Eventually, Mae became so confident in Ana's skill and so engrossed in her notes that she was no longer watching as Leah and I continued to clean up and were talking to classmates.
All of a sudden we heard a scream from near the front of the classroom. Spinning around from my conversation, I saw were Ana's leg come up in the air off the foot rest. She threw her hands up too, trying to right her center of gravity, but only proceeded in shifting her center of gravity more off balance. In a matter of milliseconds she was flying sideways out of the wheelchair, launching herself into the air before hitting the ground. Of course, we were all worried, but I couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out. Once we made sure Ana was ok and had put the wheelchair away, we happened to notice that location of the Ana's fall was just far enough forward in the classroom that it might have been caught by the recording camera that we had going for the class. On top of that, we realized our professor that forgotten to end the class recording for the day when we all left the classroom to practice with the wheelchairs. I bet you can guess what our next move was. If you guessed that we went to look up if the fall did actually get recorded, you would be correct. Sure enough, there it was, just in the bottom left hand corner of the video recording.