Naked and Under the Car

One of the things I have learned is that when you share the stories of your loved ones, they become alive. Honestly, it took me quite a while before I could tell a story about my husband, Brad, without my voice cracking or my eyes filling up with tears. On occasion, I still get emotional, but I feel different now than I did years ago. 

Brad passed away from a rare form of cancer. He was one of the funniest people I have ever met. Lately, he has been on my mind, so today, I found this story he wrote. It always makes me laugh until I am crying. And I literally can feel him while I am reading it. I can hear his voice and how he would snort whenever he laughed. It's funny. As soon as I was done reading it, I wanted to text him. And then, I remember that is not an option. 

I invite you to share your stories about a loved one and feel them come alive. And I hope you will enjoy Brad's story. 

Best,
Andrea

Naked and Under the Car
by Brad Weisbond on 04/09/10

This one is just something I could not have made up in my wildest dreams. I wish it was a dream at the time, but it was true-----all true. 

It's a story about how you get into these positions in life that you can't imagine. This was one of those positions. I call it, "Naked and Under The Car".

If you haven't discovered it yet, currently, I am paralyzed from the waist down. My legs don't work - at all. It sucks, but we believe my condition is temporary. Recently, I had 20 times the standard Botox injection (to re-direct muscle tone), a round of chemo, lots of falling on my knees, and a tumor increasing in size. I also take a fair amount of nasty pharmaceuticals, and the massive radiation treatments in my spinal cord last year have probably done some nice damage. Amazingly, the treatment is almost always the next cause/symptom. Doctors and hospitals have job security. TREAT THE SYMPTOMS and NOT THE CAUSE, and the problems NEVER, EVER, GO AWAY.

Anyway, back to the subject...' Naked And Under The Car'

Here is the story:

I went to see my therapist (oddly, I have a therapist to deal with all of my shit), and she is in one of those multi-purpose office buildings with a nice ramp to get into the front, etc. So getting there is easy. I have hand controls in my car and a portable electric scooter to get from the car to her office and back to my car.

Herein lies the problem: When I go by myself, how do I get from the front seat of my car to the trunk to assemble/disassemble my scooter when I have no use for my legs?

Somehow, I assembled the scooter, got into the office, had my visit, and got back to the car. No problem...well....not much problem. It's still a total pain in the A**, even on a good day, but I am not complaining. Life could be worse. I see it every two weeks when I go to the hospital for chemo treatments. I am very healthy compared to most of the other patients. I hate when I am thrown into the "sick" category - even though I have a brain tumor (which is temporary).

Sooooo...I scooter back to my car, and then it gets INTERESTING. I have to open my trunk, sit on the edge of the trunk space, disassemble the scooter and bring it into the trunk, close it, and drag myself to the front seat of my car (without using my legs). That AIN'T easy, my friends. And this day, it was NOT possible.

I slide from the scooter seat to the trunk (luckily, my butt and legs are numb, so I cannot feel when I tear my skin making that move). I sat on the edge of the trunk and attempted to disassemble the scooter. It comes apart in 3 places. The seat comes off, the body of the scooter breaks in half - and the battery comes off. 

So, I got the seat into the trunk and the battery next. I tore down the scooter body in half and got 1/2 in while the other started to roll away from the car. I sat there watching it slowly roll out of my reach and wondered what the F**K am I gonna do next?! As I wondered that, my body started sliding out of the trunk and down towards the ground with my winter coat wrapped around a hinge in the trunk. Also, I had lost 50 lbs in the last year. My pants didn't fit, so one of my belt loops got stuck on the handle of the scooter that was in the trunk. So, I am watching my scooter roll away as I slowly fall towards the ground while my coat and pants are stuck to opposite parts of the inside of my trunk. How the hell does that happen?....and that's just the beginning! (BTW, my cell phone was in the basket of the scooter section that was rolling away, so I could not call for help).

Slowly, I glided down to the ground, my legs bent towards under the car (I have no position sense, so I didn't know which way they were pointing. I couldn't move them anyway) so I slid further and further under my car. My face started to move towards the ground while I was holding onto the trunk with one arm. That does a lot of good since it closes as I am gliding!!

Because of the connection of my belt loop and my coat, I was moving, but my pants were not. In other words, my pants were going down towards my ankles (boxers included) AND my coat was coming up and over my head. At least you couldn't see the expression on my face! 

I slid slowly to the point where my legs were totally under the car, my butt was naked on the ground, my coat was over my head, and I was holding on for dear life! I'm not sure if I was crying or planning on where to place the bullet in my head, but the truth is that I was scared. 

HOW AM I GONNA GET OUT OF THIS ONE??

I finally let go of the trunk hinge. Luckily, the lid stayed open. I lay on the ground: NAKED AND UNDER THE CAR WITH MY COAT OVER MY HEAD, MY PANTS AT MY ANKLES, MY SCOOTER OUT OF REACH AND MY PHONE WITH MY SCOOTER. My knees and knuckles were bleeding. And I wondered how on Earth does this happen? What did I ever do to deserve this? That thought went away quickly when I realized that I was in a public parking lot in broad daylight in the position I was in. I needed to get into my car and hide.

So, the journey continues. Typically, people are watching me (but not helping) try to get my scooter in the trunk. This time, no one was around. For humility's sake, that was great, but I would have gotten past that this time in exchange for help.

After a short rest and assessment of the situation, I put both hands on the trunk frame of the car and pulled my bare butt along the ground and slowly...very slowly back up to the original sitting position of my trunk. I grabbed my cane from the trunk, used it to reach the other half of the scooter, and got it back into the trunk. 

Then, I lifted my body with only my arms, pulled myself to the BACK seat of my car, and rested for a few minutes. After the rest, I wiped the blood off my knees and hands and dressed the best I could. I was still wondering how this happened. How does someone get into this predicament? It just isn't possible. It's just not! But...OH YES...IT WAS! I just enjoyed the experience.

Once dressed and somewhat rested, I started the journey from the back seat to the front seat. I had to get out of the car (climbing through the inside was not an option). I straightened my legs, pulled them outside with my arms, grabbed the door with one hand and the front seat headrest with the other, and pulled myself up. I slowly made it to the front seat and sat down. I wiped the sweat off my face and looked at my watch. It was 12:53. I left the office at noon, so this fun ordeal took me 53 minutes.

I thought about what just took place for 53 minutes. All I wanted to do was get in my car and go home. BUT NOOOOOOOOO.....I had to take a 53-minute test on strength, courage, humility, pain, and fear. 

Again, I ask...how does one end up naked, twisted, and bleeding under his car? No amount of psychedelic drugs in the world would have allowed me to think up a situation like this, and I would not wish it on anyone.

The moral of the story is to wear your belt tight, keep your phone on you at all times, and stop trying to be Superman when your legs don't work. 

I used to be someone who would be annoyed at others who would say things like, "Do you need a hand?". Not anymore. I have another blog called, 'The Angel Who Helped Me In My Car'. Please read that one. It’s about accepting help and realizing that not everyone is a jerk. 

The above info is funny now but absolutely horrifying at the time. I wanted to get it out there to share the experience because whenever people think they have it bad, IT CAN ALWAYS BE WORSE.

I think the same. I have something pretty crappy, but it could be worse. I do not own this thing. It is temporary, and it has its reasons for being here. I am happy. I have the most wonderful wife in the world and two great kids. I am healthy (other than this temporary tumor). I have a great house and dogs, etc. You get the picture. It could always be worse, although, at that time, I would have argued that point until my pants fell off!

Thanks for taking the time to read this one. It is ALL TRUE. 

Find the blog e about the Angel who helped me. It will offset the challenging parts of the above story. It shows that there are good people in this world, and you should not ignore that. 

There are many ways to process the loss of a loved one like mine. If you or someone you know is processing loss, consider a gift box filled with positive rituals, care, and love. Sometimes, the simple act of giving one of our gift boxes helps someone find a way of processing loss.

Thank you for reading.

Andrea Tam
Founder @ Robiins
Processing Loss. One gift box at a time.™