the april fools that could have been

I intended to write some sort of zany April Fools Day post, but rebranding a web site or two at work and launching a new site for our accessibility remodelers took up most of my free time. If I had the time, I would have posted about one of the following (completely bogus) topics.

• Researchers discover that speedballs slow the progress of ALS.
• I modify my wheel chair so it runs on a 250cc dirt bike engine.
• I appear on Mythbusters to test the myth that a power chair can tow a semi trailer.
• I install Mac OS in my chair's computer an use it as a web server.
• I mount a stripper pole on my chair for some reason. (There would have been a great Photoshopped picture with this one.)

outta my sick bed

I'm finally getting around to posting about my new chair. I'd have done it sooner, but I've been sick for six days. Based on how I felt, I believe I contracted a weaponized flu virus that somehow was leaked by a secret government lab. I didn't think it was possible to feel that crappy and not die.

Anyway, here's what a guy who spent a week in bed looks like in a wheel chair.
Hang on a sec, I think I can get a better picture...

Yeah, that'll do.

Here's a close up of the chair's joystick controller and info screen.


Hopefully I'll get a chance to run some speed trials soon.

at last

My power chair arrives tomorrow! It comes at the perfect time of year too—every morning there is a nice thin layer of ice (from snow melt) on nearly every horizontal surface in town. I'm going to drive like a damn lunatic on that ice.

Picture this, only with a wheelchair.

grrrrrr

I've been wanting to write a post about my new wheel chair for two weeks. I haven't written it because my chair hasn't arrived. In fact, my chair hasn't shipped. It was supposed to be here two weeks.

The jackasses at Pride Mobility keep changing the ship date. I called to find out why. Pride Mobility wouldn't tell. As far as I can tell, their call center is staffed entirely by angry, standoffish, snarling beasts of women who are all trying to quit smoking. Those bitches do not want to help you—or answer the phone.

I never could get transferred to the Pride Mobility shipping department. I would have loved to hear their excuse for continually changing the ship date. My guess is that they were busy smoking hash and playing ping pong. I mean, what else could it be?

Dear Pride Mobility, please stop sucking. Pull your collective heads out of your asses, and send me my wheelchair.

I'm just gonna go find a cash machine...

When I get my power wheelchair, the first thing I'm going to do is visit an ATM.

contextual advertising strikes back

I knew that last post would bite me in the ass.

When I update this blog, I log in with a Google account. Google advertising provides ad space on millions of web sites. Google knows what I write about because I'm logged in. See where this is going?

Lately I'm seeing a lot of these two.

That's just super. I'm 32 years old and I'm being bombarded by old people urology advertising. At least those ads aren't as odd as this one.

this post gets pretty strange pretty fast

Last week I had a check-up at the ALS clinic. My breathing strength was still at rockstar levels, which was good. My legs were weaker, which was expected. My power wheelchair has been ordered, but I won't have it for five or six weeks.

Marney and I told my doctors we waited too long to get the power chair. We then asked if there were any assistive devices we should start looking at now. We figured being proactive would help in the long run.

Oh, how I wish I'd kept my mouth shut.

My doctor said that at some point in the future I'll find it difficult to stand up to take a piss. As such, she recommended that I familiarize myself with the condom catheter. You can check one out here. She described it as a condom attached to funnel, attached to a flexible hose. Basically, the condom catheter is a Barbie-sized beer bong.

Here's where things get weird.

The doctor says, "They work great, and the adhesive really holds them in place."
I say, "I'm sorry, I thought you said adhesive."
The doctor says, "That's right. The condom part has adhesive on the inside."

Now, I'm no chemist, but I assume any adhesive you pee on can't be water soluble. I tried to think of what the adhesive could be, and came up with Crazy Glue, caulk, epoxy and PVC cement. My doctor must have noticed I was freaking out on the inside. She tried to assuage my fears by saying, "Hey, men have it way easier than women with this kind of thing." Sure, doc. There's nothing easier than going through life with a condom securely rubber cemented to my dong.*

* This actually would have kicked ass in college.

Anyway, the doctor offered to send me home with some samples so I could get used to the idea. She disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a large plastic bag stuffed full of things. She announced, "Here's your goodie bag. I gave you two of each size so you can find the one that fits best."

How thoughtful. Also, there are different sizes!?!? I thought condoms came in two sizes, not enough to fill a grocery bag! And I think 'goodie bag' might be a bit of a misnomer. It was the saddest/most disturbing bag of goodies I ever received.

Here's where things get weirder.

My doctor reached in to the bag of woe and pulled out a handy flaccid wang size chart. Yes, such a thing exists. Wanna see it? Of course you don't, but here it is.

Click the pic for a larger view... not that size matters.

After the doctor left the room, I told Marney that I'd hang myself with the XL catheter if I turn out to be a size small. The XL is basically a latex wind sock—so I'm sure it would hold my weight.