Just Another Morning
I’m alone in my bedroom, in the north corner of this big old empty house. My gaze flicks constantly between my computer screen, the sun on the wall, and the digital clock on the dresser. It’s nine-fifteen in the morning. Any time now, I tell myself, and I squirm helplessly in my narrow bed. I’ve been lying here awake for the past five hours, waiting with desperate, ever-growing anticipation for the arrival of my private duty Personal Care Nurse. You see, I’m a C-5 quadriplegic, have been since I was fourteen, and all I can move on my own are my head, arms, neck and shoulders. But that doesn’t mean I’ve been lying here completely motionless all night. Every once in a while my legs will tremble and then kick or spasm uncontrollably. My hips will buck up or my back bridg
