Cynthia, many years ago, when I was in the 9-1-1 Biz in Monterey County, one of my dispatchers was a young man with Spina Bifida. Michael, the son of the then- Police Chief of Pacific Grove, had the greatest personality. He kept his wheelchair in the Comm Center during his work week using his arm crutches to get around. I have lots of stories about Michael and how he was treated by people with no mobility issues but many preconceptions of how Michael "should" or shouldn't act. He and I worked the graveyard shift, midnight to 8 am with a couple of other dispatchers. Ummm.. Every dispatcher was full of personality, but we graveyard folks were really special people.Quirkier than most.
His first day at work, he rolled in and stopped at the horizontal coat rack attached to the wall in the Break Room. He removed his jacket and tossed it up at one of the hooks, but missed. His jacket fell to the floor. "This needs to be lowered," he said. "I don't know how Tori can possibly reach this." (Tori was 4'11".)
He drove a Mustang with hand controls. One night before his shift, he was checking out new cars in an Auto Canter and got stopped going a wee bit too fast through the complex. For weeks, we got the giggles remembering his encounter with the police officer who stopped him. Yes, the cop approached him and actually snarked, "Got a lead foot?". Michael looked up at him, back to his 'Stang's hand controls, and replied, "No, I don't think so.". That night, out of sheer perversity, I assigned him to work the position handling that police department. (The 9-1-1 center serviced 7 law enforcement agencies, four ambulance companies and 18 fire departments.). His first radio exchange with the officer who had encountered him began, "602, thanks for not making me late."
The Comm Center was in the basement of the county courthouse annex. We all parked behind the building, entering through a doorway servicing the courthouse cafeteria, which was only open during regular courthouse business hours. Every weekday morning around five am, one of us would have to let the donut delivery guy in with the cafeteria's daily assortment of sweet pastry items. (Then wait two more hours to buy any!) Michael always parked his hot Mustang in the handicapped spot adjacent to the loading zone.
One morning, the facility maintenance guy - a long-time employee and disgruntled fellow who was seldom happy about any task - came into the CommCenter around 7 am to announce "Whoever drives that Mustang needs to move out of the handicapped spot so we can get some supplies delivered."
We were busy. I kinda snapped, "It's Michael, he's busy and he's handicapped, Frank." Michael was at the far end of the row of dispatch consoles, seated in his wheelchair, of course.
"Well, he's got to move his car. He can park in the delivery zone."
"Are you KIDDING me?!?!? Look, he gets off in an hour...". Frank kept coming back to see how long it would be.
I was resolute. When Michael got off duty, we walked out together, he on his arm crutches. His shriveled legs dangled, not touching the floor, swinging back and forth as he stilt-walked across the shiny linoleum surface. I punched the auto-door opener (Michael didn't have a free hand, y'know) and he swung his way to his car. Frank stood next to the delivery truck parked directly behind the blue Mustang in the handicapped spot, his arms akimbo. The annoyed driver sat in the cab of his truck. I waved to him to move it; his and Frank's faces absolutely paled at the sight of Michael stumping down the courthouse back steps. (Much more effective than merely rolling in a wheelchair down the ramp.)
After the truck backed up, Michael peeled out of that parking lot, burning rubber. He did indicate how first rate the driver had been with a single finger.
We worked together for about three years. He was a great dispatcher and lots of fun. I learned a lot about Spina Bifida from him.
So I was reminded of Michael Matteson when reading your son's story.
Ha...loved loved this story! Thank you for sharing. Great personality that one. Love that sense of humor! Glad you had the experience of knowing how they appreciate being treated like a human being. You were great with him.
) Not everyone has patience with a person in a chair. Richard still has people tapping their foot in a line if it's taking him time to get his grocery bags together.
I think he's done pretty well considering. He started walking with a walker at around the age of 3. Really couldn't get to work on that walking thing because he was in a body cast a few times..hip work. Then he went to arm crutches later, and now is in a wheelchair. He is so much more self dependent in the chair. He gets around much easier. His back was not straight enough to be able to stay up on crutches. 
Chirp
