Inclusive contentment

Living independently was a rite of passage for Mark. Following a near-fatal motorcycle accident five years ago, he had been in and out of hospitals, operating rooms and rehabilitation facilities, and was finally happy to be free from all of the drama. He loved his parents dearly, but they were still mourning the “old” Mark and had been smothering him, prompting his search for a house of his own.

Proud to show off this amazing purchase, Mark had a house party last Saturday evening. He and some friends gathered around the brown and gold marbled table top, festively celebrating the occasion. About five feet, eight inches tall, Mark loomed above the party guests who sat on the bar stools eating finger foods he had prepared with the help of Dave’s Marketplace. (Yes, he had made them himself; they had to be cooked, didn’t they?) Kathy, a blonde beach babe who was one of his best friends, entered the home with a large bouquet of congratulatory helium balloons following her, adding to the party atmosphere. Peanut, her obedient and friendly Seeing Eye Dog, promptly plopped himself down underneath her seat, wiggling under it fully so as not to expose his tail which had the tendency to get stepped on in these types of situations. Using a strong magnifier (like the type used by jewelers to inspect flaws in jewelry) Kathy checked out her appointment book. With a squeal of glee, she confirmed to Mark that she was, indeed, available to go to the Ultra Sonic Rock Concert coming up at Mohegan Sun with him in May.

“I want go, also!” piped in a computer voice, empowered by Jen’s iPad, into which she had signed in ASL. Mark, looking at Jen, a bright red-headed young woman who is deaf, admitted he had not thought of inviting her because she was deaf. (The iPad program translated this into ASL for her.) “Just because I deaf not mean not love concerts; lots of music, people and vibrations!”

She stood up and laughingly shook her body like a rocker, arms in the air, hair flying. “I go too!” came another computer voice generated by Steve, who sat nearby in his electric wheelchair while he munching on chips and dip. Having Lou Gehrig’s disease (ALS) and a severe speech impediment, he used a computer for communication. He laughed when everyone pointed out how lucky he was that he could eat and talk at the same time. His wife sat near him on one of the bar stools, and lovingly ran her hand through his brown hair, which he roughly brushed aside in a mock display of annoyance.

“When we go to Mohegan Sun, I hope my slot machine has lots of bells and whistles”, Kathy whispered to Steve’s wife. “The last time, my machine was so quiet I couldn’t tell if I won, and got up to leave. The lady next to me stopped me and pointed out that there was a balance of $284 in the machine!”

The friends continued to eat and joke, with an eventual move into the living room to watch a movie on Netflix. Joining his acquaintances, Mark lowered his standing wheelchair and joined them. With the exception of getting one of the newly designed exo-skeletons to compensate for his paraplegia (completely out of his price range with the latest version costing $85,000), he was content in his life, and he smiled. Life was good, and he was sure all of his friends would agree.