More Than Wheels.

Chapter 1

Thermometer? Check. Stethoscope? Check. Wheelchair...Fucking check. I cast my eyes to the metal monster that's captured me since I was 12.

As harmless as two wheels and a seat could look, it was hell to me. "Want to walk around today?" My physiotherapist/ nurse looked up at me from his clipboard. Mousy brown hair curling around his face. Stormy blue eyes locking onto mine. The storm was brewing from a place of frustration towards me. He towered over me, built like a brick wall. It would be intimidating if I didn't know him. You know, he would be really handsome too, if he wasn't such a pain in the ass. "What's the point? I'm going to end up in it later. Might as well start now." He knew I was talking about the wheelchair.
"You will never lose the use of your legs Mae. You know that." Thus, begins the lecture I've heard for five plus years. "FA doesn't take that away from you."
"Right, Just coordination, speech, energy, sight, sound and a functioning heart."
"Half of those you've still got-"
"For now. Or until it carries on destroying my body." This was the same argument we had every morning. Ethan would tell me how lucky I am to be here. And I would glare at him until he shut up. "Everybody that has FA is different. Symptoms vary from person to person. Some you may never get. Thank the gods you're not paralysed or worse, terminally ill."
"Aren't I already terminally ill?" He shot me a look that would freeze fire "No! You are not. I'm not in the mood for your bitchy 'I'm cursed, the world hates me' attitude today. We have a lot to do. So, will you make it easier for me and stop being a pain in the ass. I didn't move from America for this. All the nineteen-year-old angst."
"Technically, you moved from Scotland to America, then to England. Boy, you get around." His Scottish twang leaking through. It was a pretty amusing sound if you asked me. I gave him a sickly-sweet smile and stepped out of bed. He held out his hand to steady me. I didn't need it...Not yet anyway. Steadying myself, I slowly walked over to the wheelchair, and lowered myself in. Ethan was watching me intently. Smile grazing his lips "What?"
"Oh, nothing Mae. Your stronger than you realise." I rolled my eyes and turned my head to look out of the glass wall my Mum had installed. To make me feel like I was outside as much as possible. Its good for my heath and wellbeing...Blah, blah, blah. Clearly, that wasn't true or I wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

As much shit as I give him. I love Ethan. He's the only one that puts up with me when I'm in a mood, which is all the time, more or less. He's not afraid to put me in my place. I respect that. Mum likes the fact that he never gives up on me. I've given up for the both of us. "Fredereichs Ataxia is rare Mae. But it's liveable. Most with the condition go on to live long, independent lives."
"So why are you here?"
"Because me and your Mother both know, if I wasn't, you'd never do anything. You'd just stay in bed and feel sorry for yourself."
"Plus, Ethan helps strengthen your physicality. He's here until you learn independence and acceptance, Mae." Yeah, that was never going to happen. Ever. We both turned to see my Mum leaning against the doorway of the intensely white room. "And he's the only friend that will tolerate you." She smiled teasingly and I scoffed.
"Only because you pay him."
"I resent that comment. If I didn't consider you a friend, I would've asked for a raise just for dealing with you."
"And I would've happily given you one." My mum laughed along with Ethan.
"Make a joke at the disabled persons expense, lovely." They both stopped their laughter. Faces falling flat. Dead. "That was a joke." I quickly spat out. Jeez, I'm a bitch. But I'm not mentally scaring.
"Don't take up comedy." Ethan smiled at my Mum and handed her a clipboard with my vitals on. Heart rate, temperature, blood pressure blah blah blah. This wasn't usual. I was coming down from the flu, and with my 'condition' it can turn serious, quickly. "Everything looks great today. Stable. A little heart blip, but that's normal with your condition." My shitty heart and me nodded at my mother. The doctor in her came out "Have you given her cod liver oil? It stimulates nerves."
"No, but I will get on that right now." And off he went. Buzzing about in the bathroom cabinets lined with pills, vitamins and herbal supplements. "How are you feeling angel?" She kissed me on the forehead. In that one action, I could feel all the love radiating from her. And I hated myself for behaving this way. "Like I always do." We both know what that meant. Lost. Angry. With a little bit of self-pity thrown in for good measure. Ethan was right. Without him here, I wouldn't do the workouts or physio. The constant check-ups and tests. Occasional drugs trial. I wouldn't see a point. I'm doing this all for my Mum. She's always holding onto the hope that the light will return in my eyes. A meaningful smile with it. To be honest, so am I. "Here they are" saving the awkward moment, Ethan comes bouncing back into the room. "How many do I give her?"
"Two. One in the day, and one at night."
"Ok."
"I'll be back late. I have patients to see all day, and I've said I'll work the ER tonight. Foods in the fridge. You have my number."
"On speed dial." Ethan smiled.
"Right." It was returned "Take care of my baby girl."
"I try to." He winked at me.
"I love you Mae."
"I love you more." The words I've said since childhood.
"Impossible." Five years later and she still gets teary eyed. "Bye Ethan."
"Bye Sarah. Have a good day." And with that, she left. A purposeful walk to the car to start her day. You can tell allot about someone by the way they walk. Confidence, ego, shyness. All my walk says about me is disabled. Wobbly, uncoordinated. Gets tired and has to stop all the time. I look drunk. Chair is easier. No one asks questions. Too scared I guess. People stay away from what they don't know. My mother, on the other hand walked with power. Like a Doctor. No, Neurologist. Oh, the irony that her daughter has a genetic, neurological, progressive, lifelong condition. She was a carrier and never knew. So was my dead-beat Dad who left before I was born. Your unborn spawn then has a 1 in 4 chance of having FA. And low and behold! Here I am! Lucky me, right?
"Right, breakfast then Pilates. Reflexologist comes at 12:00. Then lunch-"
"Can we just get through this morning?" This is every day for me. I could recite it backwards "I know it all."
"You won't do anything else. Why don't we go outside, or for a drive or-"
"Let's not shall we." I wheeled off in the direction of the kitchen, hearing a dramatic sigh behind me "I heard that."
"You were meant to." Drama queen.