Ambivalence, Thy Name is Hand Controls (in my Car)

Yesterday was a true lesson in ambivalence. As you may have figured out by now, I have trouble walking, thus my use of a variety of walking aids--a cane, walker, and electric scooter based on the distance and terrain involved. I've long accepted that I need help walking, but yesterday I finally had to accept the fact that I needed help driving.

My leg troubles are mostly concentrated in my right leg. MS doesn't cause muscles themselves to become weak. The nerve connection between your brain and certain muscles malfunctions, and in my case, it's my right hip flexor and hamstring. This prevents me from being able to swing my right leg forward when I'm walking, or lifting my heel behind me. Unfortunately, this was starting to affect my ability to switch my foot between the gas pedal and the brake, which is obviously a dangerous proposition when driving--especially with my precious cargo (a.k.a. two kiddos) in the back. So my husband and I bit the somewhat hefty monetary bullet, and I took my car to get hand controls installed.

The hand controls are actually pretty awesome. It's a lever of sorts that connects through metal poles to the pedals. When I push forward, it engages the brake, and when I push down, it engages the accelerator. I also got a spinner knob installed on the steering wheel so I could turn it all the way around while turning and using the speed/brake lever. I'm still getting used to it, but it's a great tool that definitely makes me feel more confident--and safe--while driving.

However, it's a stark reminder that every year, my MS gets a little worse. The ability to drive is no less a representation of freedom for me now as a 39 year-old as it was when I was 16. Think about all the things you do every single day that require you to drive somewhere. For me at the present time, that involves typical mom stuff: taking the kids to school/daycare, to tae kwon do, going to the supermarket, hair and medical appointments, etc. For work, I use my car to attend chamber events like committee meetings and social mixers, interviews for my Homeland Security Today column, meetings with potential clients, courts to provide testimony, and site visits for conducting research.

I've never minded driving, until recently. I grew up with parents who enjoyed getting in the car and exploring the local area just to find someplace new to see. When I was a kid, we drove from south Florida to Canada every few years for a 3-week vacation so we could stop several times along the way to see the USA. During college, I commuted between a part-time job in the morning, my university in the afternoons and evenings for class, and a second university mid-day to attend my ROTC functions and classes, all 40 minutes from my home. Needless to say, I was saddened by the fact that driving had become something to be concerned about; not really to fear, but something to cause apprehension.

The hand controls have taken care of that, but like my walker, they're one more daily reminder that my body is broken. That sounds really depressing, and I assure you that's NOT my whole outlook on life. I think it's just something that we disabled/handicapped/physically-challenged (whatever) people universally feel either at some point or constantly. And I suppose that's where the ambivalence lies: here's a system we can afford that makes my life easier and safer, but at the same time it makes me sad.

For now, I'm trying to focus on the fact that my children are now safer when they're in Mommy's car, and I can once again look forward to driving to my chamber events, meetings, and interviews. Rental car agencies have cars in their inventories with hand controls installed, so when I travel I don't have to stress out about not being able to drive an unfamiliar car with pedals in tough-to-negotiate spots--or getting strange/worried looks from the agency staff. So if you're driving in Tucson and you see the black SUV with the big magnets advertising Border Insecurity on the side, know that there's one more driver in town doing everything possible to drive more safely.