Memories of a chair

Right now V is very much alive. By that I mean that he lives a lot. He´s either running, climbing or jumping. The two first he´s really good at, the third... Let´s just say that he looks like if Stefan Holm tried to jump without knowing that somebody had nailed his feet to the ground.

This is something that you could get very tired of. Chasing your son around, trying to stiop him from falling, stop him from reaching that knife or that expensive christmas decoration, or just stop him from crying when you failed doing the other stops.

Jumpin´ Jack Flash - and a flash from the past

But I remember his rolling chair. And suddenly it all feels good again.

When V was one year old, or close to that, he had a walking chair. Actually it was the old one that A had used and learned the basics of walking from.
But V didn´t learn the basics of walking. He got taller and taller but the need for the walking chair remained. Finally he got to big and the chair was more of a trap than something to get aid from. So we went to the medical technical aid centre for help.

I still remember that truly divided feeling, walking in to the centre.
We were getting help. V had to have a better tool. It was going to get better for all of us.
But at the same time... This was a place for disabled people. I mean really disabled.

Should I expect this life for my son from now on? Hanging around with artifical limbs and wheelchairs? An what if... what if he´d never learned? What if he´d never stod up and walked?

I don´t know why that last sentence never stuck in my mind, but the truth is it didn´t. I´ve always thought that V would eventually learn how to walk. Maybe it´s just the way I see things. Maybe I have a strong ability to deny bad things in my life. I don´t know.

And later V did learn how to walk. And before that he had a great time in his medical walking chair. It allowed him to tag along with the rest of us and to experience the house by himself, as well. That was something really important when building his confidence and his independence.

The chair was, in all it´s hospitaliness, uglyness and sturdyness a fine piece of medical art.

But DAMN - it´s so good to be rid of it!