I was 16 years old when I got the diagnosis. I had a
degenerative disease, which over the years would gradually weaken my leg muscles
until I could not walk. I was 16 years old and these were just words and my
symptoms were just symptoms, after all I could still ride my bike. My bike was
my freedom machine. On my bike I could ride all over Glens Falls and the
surrounding countryside, going where I liked when I liked.
As
my disease progressed it became harder to ride and the day came when I tried to
get on the bike and couldn’t. At that moment I realized what my disease meant,
trading the freedom of my bicycle for the restriction of a wheel chair. A cloud
of despair settled over me restricting not just my body but also my soul.
The
years went by and I grew older but to what end? Time passed slowly measured by
my own depression
One
day Bill Collins, an assistant director at my day hab center, burst into the
main room grabbed my wheel chair and rolled me into the next-door parking lot.
“Here”, he said, gesturing to what looked like a funny tricycle. “Here is
your new bike.” “That
contraption isn’t a bike,” I said. But Bill lowered himself onto the seat,
grabbed the hand pedals and pedaled himself around the lot. “See” he said
you don’t need your legs to ride this thing just your arms. It will take a
little time but soon you will be able to ride the thing all over Glens Falls.
“I can’t get out of this wheel chair”, I protested. “I won’t even be
able to get into that thing”
My
first ride was not encouraging. It took two people to get me into the bike and
once there I found that just like a real bike it required balance and
coordination to ride. I was not encouraged. “Look,” Bill said, “Dave likes
bicycles he will work with you.”
That
first year was hard and I began to think of my bike as a torture machine rather
then a freedom machine. As the summer progressed so did my abilities and by fall
I was ready for my first big ride. Dave had said that when I got good enough I
could ride the bike path to lake George and the day finally came. Dave loaded my
bike and me into his van and off we went. I rode the bike path with Dave and his wife running along
beside. On the way back I began to ride faster and before long I had left Dave
and his wife far behind. For the first time since high school I was on my own,
nobody pushing me or telling me where to go I was on my own. It felt good.
The
next year my health deteriorated and I was only able to ride the bike a couple
of times. The old cloud of despair descended over me. It wasn’t a good year.
The
next year Dave began talking about the bike and how I might be able to ride in
the Special Olympics. I must admit it felt good getting on the bike again. Then
Dave had another idea, "We should do a story about you and your bike for
the Empire Club News." So I found myself being interviewed by Dave and Sean
for a news article. Dave sometimes gets carried away and before long he was
asking about how the disease affected me. Suddenly a door, which I had closed
years ago, sprang open and without warning all the despair, anger, and fear I
had kept closed behind that door came flooding out. I broke down crying feeling
all those feeling I had closed away so long ago.
Dave
all of a sudden realizing what he had triggered rushed to console me.
"Look", he said, "we don’t have to write this article". In
a spontaneous flash I replied “yes we do” I realized that the door that had
been closed for so long had to stay open if I were to lift the cloud of
depression that had robbed me of motivation just as the disease had robbed my
legs of movement. “We are going
to write the article”, I said, “Now let’s go for ride”. That day, in the
parking lot, riding my bike I realized it was truly a freedom machine; it had
freed my body and my soul.
For More Information Contact:
The Empire Club of CWI
79 Warren St. GlensFalls, NY 12801
Tel: 518-745-7482
FAX:
Internet:
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