His broken leg was wrapped tightly in padded gauze so it would set and heal properly. It wasn't quite a cast, which I assumed was to still give him some flexibility when transferring from his bed to his wheelchair. A wheelchair he's been bound to since he broke his neck at a swim meet during spring break of our senior year in high school. His paralysis has taken a physical and psychological toll since then, but he lives fairly independently with regular home healthcare visits and a van he can drive. At least, when his leg isn't broken, which has happened multiple times over the years.
Prior to the pandemic, myself and a group of mutual long-time friends would go visit Robby at least one to two times per year since high school. (A big thank you to friends Greg and Rob for going to help Robby right after he broke his leg this time). Although we talk on the phone regularly, I've only seen Robby a couple of times the past few years including this latest visit, the soonest I could get up to see him.
We had a great time catching up, listening to music, watching movies, and reminiscing about our lives and our friendship. Being a partial quadriplegic, his physical body has atrophied dramatically over the years, his bones brittle and easily broken with any trauma, like falling to the floor trying to transfer to his wheelchair or his bed.
After picking up his AirPods, I brought them back and showed him how I removed them from their container and then gave him the container to try. For those who don't own a pair, the container magnetically holds the AirPods in place and the lid snaps shut easily to protect its contents.
I watched him try to open the container. Since his accident in high school, I've known he doesn't have the same dexterity or strength as able-bodied people, and he can't pinch with his fingers like I can. I've watched his physical activity over the years, helping him when needed (or if he wanted it), but this time I just watched him navigate the AirPods. After about 10 minutes, he got them into his ears and we tested them. He loved them.
And it took 10 minutes. If you think about how long it takes an able-bodied person to remove them and put them into the ears, around 10 seconds, 10 minutes is a long time relatively speaking. But not to my best friend. He's adapted over the years and can manage a lot of activities that able-bodied people take for granted.
The morning I was to head home, I began to feel nauseous and achy. And unfortunately, my body remembered that feeling all too well -- the stomach flu. Or, more accurately, the norovirus, which isn't a flu at all. You can get the norovirus anywhere and I've had it a few times over the years, and it gets you at both ends, if you know what I mean. Ugh. I still had to drive home four hours, too.
I made it home without incident, but was then sick with it for two days. Norovirus is highly contagious once you're sick, so then I gave it our oldest Beatrice. Then my wife Amy got it. Then our youngest Bryce got it. I turned my house into a cruise ship for a week (if you don't get that reference, norovirus has infamously infected passengers on cruise ships).
Throughout the week as my family nursed each other back from norovirus, all I could think about was watching my best friend removing his AirPods from their case and putting them into his ears. Again, it took him 10 minutes when it only takes me 10 seconds (and then imagine those who can't do it at all on their own). Living with a lifetime of paralysis reminds me of how much we can take for granted in our lives; my family could move easily back and forth from the bed to the bathroom when sick. Thank goodness he didn't get the norovirus after I left. I'll always be able-bodied grateful and empathize with those who aren't. Blessings, my dear friend, and rock on.
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