Essay: Spinning Wheels

II've always preferred to walk and never owned a car. This has made me a bit of an odd ball in our auto-centered culture.

A 6 minute read.

I grew up in a rural community where walking most everywhere was the daily routine for kids. I walked to my elementary school, which was about a quarter of a mile from home. Later, I would often walk to, or from, high school, which was about three miles away. I loved to walk and also hike in the hills that surrounded our small farm in the Columbia River Gorge.

The joy of life as an able bodied walker. Photo Hildi Westerkamp

When my father died at the beginning of my high school junior year, I had to learn how to drive because it was just my mom and me, and she didn't drive at the time.

Mom hired a driving instructor, who miraculously survived my learning to keep the car in the left lane - or was it the right? Thank goodness his training vehicle had two steering wheels. He kept us out of the ditch more than once. I would love to have heard the stories he told when he got home after riding with me. Especially on those days we drove the freeway. I shiver when I think about me behind the wheel.

I never enjoyed driving. I managed, once I passed the driver's exam, to get my mom and myself safely around as needed. But I was relieved when she learned to drive, and I moved to Los Angeles without a car. There I returned to relying on walking to get myself around. I have no idea how many miles of sidewalk I covered by foot in LA.

When I moved to Eugene, I was pleased to discover how easy it was to walk anywhere I wanted to go. I think that I’ve walked to most every part of city over the past 57 years - so many miles and many pairs of worn-out shoes. I thought that I would continue to walk until my last breath - at least that was my thought.

I always took off my shoes when I got home as I liked to feel of the warmth of the carpet or coolness of the linoleum depending on the season. Then one day, as I was walking across the living room, the toes on my right foot dug into the carpet, and I fell. I brushed it off as a clumsy accident. A week later, I had the same experience. When I tripped a third time, I was encouraged to see my doctor, who indicated that my right foot was beginning to drop when I walked. She asked that I wear shoes all the time and suggested physical therapy. That was the end of my going barefoot at home.

A few years earlier, I had surgery for a ruptured spinal disc. I actually recall hearing the doctor say “oops” while he was operating. Apparently, he had damaged a nerve through which the automated signal from my brain to my foot travels. This was confirmed with an Electromyography (EMG) nerve conduction test. The sound of the signal was very weak. Instead of it sounding like a downpour of static, it was more of a drizzle. Apparently, I had enough residual muscle strength that the full effect of that surgical nick wasn’t felt until the day my toes finally weakened and folded under my foot.

Extensive physical therapy helped, but there came a time when it was suggested that I use an Ankle-Foot Orthosis (AFO). I hated having my calf and foot in a brace, but I gradually learned to live with it as it kept my foot from tripping. I discovered that I couldn’t walk as far as I once had. Still, each day I’d walk a mile to and from work with a hill in between.

A few years passed, and I began to notice that I had a slight balance issue. A friend suggested that I might want to start using a walking pole. I found it to be a great help, and my balance was stabilized. Yet, the right leg, being held firm by the AFO, was beginning to atrophy.

If one walking pole was helpful, two might be better and so I got a well designed set with adjustable height and attachments for walking in the snow and wet weather. I was pleased that I could still go shopping and taking short walks although I had to give up walking in the sand along Oregon’s beautiful coast.

I seemed to be doing fine with the walking poles until one day I attended a concert series on the UO campus. At the end of the last concert I tried to stand up, but couldn’t without a lot of pain. A kind couple attending the concert offered to drive me home.

It seems I had, for some reason, developed sciatica in my right leg and walking was incredibly difficult. Only a cortisone shot in my hip and several more weeks of physical therapy, got me moving again. Except, to keep my balance, I as asked to purchase and use a traditional home medical walker.

The walker was the typical type with two wheels and green tennis ball glides to help it move over inside and outside surfaces. It proved beneficial in providing stability for getting around inside my home but cumbersome when attempting to walk any distance outside.

It didn’t take me long to realize that it was time to take the next step, so to speak, in this spiral from being a healthy long-distance walker to simply managing a trip around the block. I purchased a rollator, sometimes called a "wheeled walker".

Buying a rollator was a psychological challenge in that I realized that my mobility was now in steady decline and that I had become definitely one of those “old people” who clamber around with a four-wheel contraptions that usually has a seat for resting as needed - very useful as I’ve discovered.

One night, while laying in bed thinking about life’s destination, it came to me that I had never owned a car. So, if I needed a rollator, I should treat myself to the equivalent of a Porsche or Ferrari and make the most of it.

The unit I purchased (demonstrated with a bit of flamboyance in the video above) has a contemporary European design with large wheels for getting over all the bumps in the outside world. And I chose one painted bright red! Like anyone who buys a high-end car, mine stands out in a cluster of similar devices at the local doctor’s office.

To be honest, I sort of enjoy the attention it gets as I explain why I bought it for practical reasons and to boost my spirits as an aging elder who realizes he will never go for long walks again. This is life now and why not enjoy it - given the alternative.

I believe that adapting to change is hard for we humans who basically want things simple. The mobility changes I’ve experienced have been slow but steady. I have no idea when my rollator will need to be replaced by a wheelchair. I can sense that time will come. When I make that decision, I hope there might be some smartly designed chairs with a good color selection other than black - maybe bright blue with some shiny chrome features.

Note: This story dedicated to my friend Carole Zoom who has never let anything stop her from going and doing whatever she wants including traveling through China with her powered wheel chair.