What it’s like to be one of the world’s only unassisted WALKING quadriplegics
At first glance, nothing really separates me from the next guy aside from my regrettable decision to grow the mythical Asian beard. At around r̶e̶a̶d̶ ̶s̶h̶o̶r̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶n̶ 5’7", I’m not exactly towering above anyone, not even here in Asia. I’m by no means ugly but I’m definitely not a supermodel either y̶e̶t̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶v̶a̶n̶i̶t̶y̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶ ̶b̶o̶u̶n̶d̶s̶.
Despite most of my Instagram posts being centred on my daily intake of amazing, and not exactly the definition of healthy food, it’s rather surprising that I rock something closer to an early dad bod than the poster boy for obesity that my diet would otherwise suggest.
Most people that meet me, rarely notice that I have any form of physical disability at all. Even my ex-wife didn’t realize I walked with a limp for about 2 weeks after meeting me. Mind you, most of our early nights were alcohol fueled and landlocked within 2 feet of the closest bartender at our favorite watering holes.
Medically speaking, I’m classified as an incomplete quadriplegic. By definition, quadriplegia or tetraplegia refers to cervical (neck) related spinal cord injuries in the C1-C7 region, resulting in the partial or complete loss of functions in all 4 major limbs. I’m always asked if it was a motor vehicle accident but I jokingly refer to my life changing event as a “hunting accident, where I should have ducked a little faster.” Since it’s no state secret, you might as well know that I was actually shot in the face 13 years ago and you can read about it more HERE.
Despite being told by medical experts that I’d never walk again, I found plenty of motivation while I was in rehab to do the very opposite.
(for some insight, check out my other article, I Was Shot In The Face, What’s Your Excuse?)
I obviously consider myself extremely lucky as I’m completely independent, currently embracing the whole “digital nomad lifestyle”, and always grateful to wake up and face another day in a new location. With an injury that presents itself more similarly to that of a stroke victim, I’m partially paralyzed on my entire right side, with little to no function in my right hand and arm. So, being as logical as I generally am, I made the decision early on to quickly ditch my quad cane about a month out of rehab, freeing up my only working hand. Not having my cane as a crutch c̶r̶i̶p̶p̶l̶e̶ ̶j̶o̶k̶e̶ helped propel me towards walking completely unassisted and has changed my entire future as a quadriplegic.
Since my right leg doesn’t function autonomously either, each step I take daily, literally requires me to command my toes to lift up as to not catch the floor, followed by me asking my right leg to firmly plant itself on solid ground, and finally, consciously tightening up my right knee cap so it doesn’t buckle. But it’s now become second nature, and I’m now able to ̶w̶a̶l̶k̶ limp as far as I want and for as long as I want, albeit at 60% of my pre-injury pace, but with all things considered, I’ll gladly take what I’ve got all day, every day.
Most people that do realize there’s something different about me, notice the soft brace on my right hand first, as it looks like it’s injured or tightening up. Then they’ll eventually notice my gait or limp as I start moving around. In general, I’m afforded the same courtesy wherever I go as most disabled persons, however, I rarely use my “cripple card” … except recently, since I’ve been traveling more often.
I wouldn’t recommend taking a bullet to the face to get this VIP pass, but man, oh man, I’ve got to admit that the perks are simply amazing! I rarely wait in line at airport counters to check my bags. A slower, exaggerated limp towards the Business or Elite class counter agents has always resulted in immediate service. The request for a courtesy wheelchair is rarely, if ever denied.
Breezing through the always popular security lineups and given priority service ahead of cabin crews and foreign diplomats at immigration counters is simply priceless. And the benefits continue all the way to every departure gate with priority boarding alongside first class passengers and expectant mothers. Some airlines have even offered me complimentary upgrades to better seats if they’re available. I’m extremely thankful that these privileges are made available to me which has also contributed to making me a highly sought after travel companion amongst my friends ̶b̶a̶s̶t̶a̶r̶d̶s̶.
I don’t often remind myself this ̶y̶e̶a̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶d̶o̶, but I am half crippled and half amazing! But being a hybrid of sorts still has its minor challenges. Wild nights of ̶e̶x̶c̶e̶s̶s̶i̶v̶e̶ drinking can lead to a severe and abrupt shutdown of control of the entire right leg, my body’s gentle reminder and a reality check that I’m surprisingly not invincible.
Group outings with new acquaintances sometimes ends up with unexpected long walks because everyone simply assumes that since I’m upright and sans wheelchair, I can hack it and walk for blocks as quickly as a “normal” person.
I recently faced a new challenge of hopping onto the back of scooters while visiting Vietnam. Despite my adamant decision prior to landing that I would absolutely not be getting on any bike, kicking my less than cooperative right leg over the seat did become routine after a couple of rides. So we can scratch that one off the list.
So, hey. C’est la vie! Carpe diem! Just do it!
On a social level, meeting people has not only been surprisingly easy but virtually inevitable. Someone’s bound to ask me what happened to my hand or leg at some point in time. With canned answers ranging from “excessive masturbation” to “one too many shots” ̶w̶i̶n̶k̶, breaking the ice with someone and having an immediate range of engaging topics at hand ̶l̶i̶t̶e̶r̶a̶l̶l̶y̶,̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶n̶d̶, has been an unexpected bonus. The side effect of talking about my injury seems to almost negate the need for small talk as conversations tend to quickly gravitate away from the superficial and I’m instantly connecting with someone on a more diverse and meaningful level.
Walking the tightrope of being half normal and half disabled has been my reality for 13 years now. I can relate to both worlds but I’ll admit that I don’t always feel like I completely belong to either one. I’ve volunteered and spoken to others with spinal cord injuries in the past, and found myself guilt ridden at my advanced stage of recovery.
My attempt to convey a message of positivity, hope and perseverance may have inadvertently crossed the boundaries of setting unrealistic goals and expectations. I eventually stopped volunteering because of that but plan to re-engage myself with disabled organizations as part of my life goals this year.
But with this newfound freedom, adoption of a nomadic lifestyle, and my rediscovery of my hibernating passion to write, I’m hoping that I’d find my voice again, reach out to a brand new audience, and I’m looking forward to crafting a better, balanced message when I begin speaking again.
