Way before I ended up in a wheelchair, I had some sort of premonition, because I was always shooting people in wheelchairs and I had never been in one myself.
No broken legs. No injuries that I can think of at all.
But there was a lot of illness in my family. My mother died from complications of Lupus, decades ago, and towards the end of her life I pushed her around in a wheelchair.
Also, my parents worked summers at camps for the disabled. Mom was a recreation worker, and played the piano for camp shows where disabled wheelchair patients got a chance to act and sing.
My dad was a social worker at the same camps and maybe I was 7 or 8 years old.
Anyway, I’m ready for the 4th IG infusion of the week. One more tomorrow.