Itis a beautiful September morning, the year is 2021, and I’m crawling to the intercom in my florentine apartment to let the paramedics in. In my delirium I couldn’t remember my own name or where my IDs were when they asked. I speak six languages and couldn’t find words in any of them. All I remember is that all my life force had rushed into my feet and they were so heavy I couldn’t stand. Next thing I knew I was on a stretcher, being held by a resident doctor while choking back tears at the sight of the X-ray.
Uber for Wheelchair Users
I’m relatively new to using a wheelchair on a part-time basis, so despite my extensive use of forearm crutches while traveling, I recently took…