In the midst of searching the floorboards and the niches of my wheelchair this morning for a small but vital piece of metal, the immortal words of Miracle Max came to me and made an otherwise-humorless situation bearable: "I've seen worse." It's true, the situation could be - and has been - a lot worse. My chair could have been turned off when the power switch broke off, leaving me with no power... or a fuse could have blown out... or my chair could have stopped on the sidewalk in some random new place when I was alone... or my finger could have broken off, for that matter. Yes, I have seen worse... oh, the stories I could tell! But I'll just focus on the latest story...
I've thought it over and over, and really the situation was so impressive that I don't think I could do it again as perfectly if I really tried. Elsa and I were just sitting at the breakfast table, when we heard a beeping sound from the kitchen, which I thought was the smoke alarm finally admitting it can't take the Burmese cooking anymore. So I decided to just swing around and peek in the kitchen to make sure nothing was on fire... little did I know, the kitchen door was opened out toward me, so when I swung around to look, my control box caught the edge of the door. The door did not like that rude action very much, and decided to teach me a lesson - to look before I turn - by snapping off my power on/off switch in one clean "POP." I think the door decided then to eat my power switch out of spite, because a long and thorough search did not yield any bit of the switch anywhere on the premesis.
I called the wheelchair repair people, but since Medicaid takes a few weeks to transfer from state-to-state (and I just started the process this week), repairs won't be covered. Talked to my dad and he gave me some good ideas, so soon I will be heading to the auto-parts store to see if they can help me. I've been wondering two things today: 1) How many missionaries have to deal with wheelchair repairs on the field? Sure, it doesn't rank up there with snake bite or food poisoning or malaria or guerilla warfare, but still... and 2) Why didn't I look before I turned? That seems like such a basic, elementary common-sense thing... especially for someone who's been driving for 20 years. It seems to be my downfall a lot, though. Many door ways and people's shins give testimony to this, and for that I am sorry.
By the way, the kitchen is still in tact, so I guess there was no fire. I just now thought of that... four hours later.