Chapter 3 - Part of His World

The first time I met Mark, he pulled up in front of Nate's house at the same time as me on a Saturday afternoon. We were both there because we needed something from Nate. I watched the dark green van pull into a spot in front of the house and the double doors open with a slow robotic automation. I hesitated before heading up the driveway because I knew it must be Nate's Dad. After a long pause, Mark emerged in the doorway of the van. His left hand fumbled with the joystick lever on his electric wheelchair, making sharp adjustments to lower the lift to the ground. I felt odd standing there, unsure if it was rude to stand there waiting for him, or if it was more rude to leave him to struggle by himself.

He looked up and saw me and smiled. “You must be Katy,” he said. He was thin with grey hair, a handsome face and an instantly likable smile.

“And you must be Mark.” It was a strange confirmation that we were both now characters in Nate's story–Mark having always been a lead role and me being new on the scene, or rather still trying out for a role I wasn't sure I wanted to play. I'd moved to Salt Lake less than a month before, but Nate was quickly becoming a key figure in my new life. If I was auditioning for the role of potential girlfriend-type person, then meeting his dad was surely a scene I wanted to nail.

Instead of heading up the driveway, Mark maneuvered his wheelchair the opposite direction onto the road and toward the neighbor's house, whose driveway sloped steeply upward. I would later learn that Mark had to brave the steep driveway of Nate's next-door neighbor each visit. Due to the lack of wheelchair access, the only way for him to get inside the house was to go up the driveway, across the lawn, and in through the backdoor.

“Katy, you want to help me for a minute?” said Mark. It wasn't really a question and I was happy to oblige, if unsure of what it was going to entail. Mark hesitated at the bottom of the steep driveway. “OK,” he said. “Just stand behind me and help me up the hill.”

I looked at the heavy steel chair. It was November and the driveway was covered with a thin layer of ice and snow.

“You think you can do it?” he asked. “Yes.” I placed my hands on the handles on the back of his wheelchair. He clunked his hand down on the joystick, and a red light moved from one setting to another. His fingers didn't operate as individual digits, but rather as one unit locked into stiff formation.

“Let's go,” he said as he steered himself up what now looked to me a treacherous ascent. I pushed the back of the chair, placing my body weight squarely behind the chair so that I could use all of my momentum to get us both up the hill. We paused briefly at the top.

Next, Mark pointed out the line we would take from the paved driveway onto Nate's side yard. There was a little dip followed by rough, uneven terrain. I gripped the handles and alternately pushed, pulled, and steadied the chair as we made the journey to the back door. When we reached the back porch, I peered into the large kitchen windows that looked over the backyard. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of Nate who could relieve me from my sudden obligation.

“I wonder where Nate is?” I said. “I tried calling him,” said Mark. He shook his head, briefly annoyed. “Now, there's some ramps-two metal planks-on the porch." He gestured with his head toward a table hidden behind a mess of shoes and beer bottles.

I looked around and found the wheelchair ramps tucked behind the door. I grabbed one and examined it. Having never set up a wheelchair ramp before, I had no idea which way to put it down or how far apart they should be.

“Looks like he's doing good on the drinking,” Mark said looking at the spread of beer bottles covering the back porch. “Or maybe, not so good.” He chuckled. “Just put it down over the top step,” he said noticing my struggle with the ramps. “The other way around. Put it a little more to the right. Okay, now put the other one down next to it ... A little further apart ... A little more ... A little closer ... Let's try that.”

I opened the door to the kitchen, letting a blast of cold air inside. No Nate in sight. Just letting myself into the house of a man I only barely knew, helping his quadriplegic father inside. Frazzled by the everyday motions of getting up the driveway and into the house. Nothing out of the ordinary. The back door opened into a narrow hallway with doorways to the right and left and a steep staircase that led to the basement straight ahead. After a few attempts and readjustments of the ramps, Mark made it into the cramped entry and stopped just inside. “Hold onto the back of my wheelchair and make sure I don't go down the stairs,” said Mark.

“OK,” I said. It seemed like a tall order for our first meeting. Not the usual way of impressing the parents. I gripped the handles on the back of the wheelchair as Mark went forward, then a little bit back, then a little bit forward, then a little bit to the right, then back, then left, then forward and then into the small opening of the kitchen.

“OK, you can let go,” said Mark as he drove further inside, leaving tire tracks of snow and leaves on the floor as he went.

Nate emerged from the hallway with a towel around his waist and wet hair. “You're both here,” he said cheerfully, tucking one end of the towel around his waist to hold it in place. “I guess you met Mark.” “Yep,” I said, surprised but not surprised by his nonchalance. Did he know what I just went through?

“I figured you probably put that together,” said Nate. He filled a glass with water and took a long drink.

“Katy helped me into the house,” said Mark. “We made it,” I said, relieved that my duties had concluded.

“Good job, Katy,” said Mark chuckling. “Thank you.”

The thanks was both ridiculous and appreciated. Helping someone with the simple task of getting up the driveway and into the house is not a generous act. It's the minimum amount of humanness required when you meet someone like Mark. And yet no small task was easy, so I did feel good about myself. I had passed a simple test. I had helped Mark with one of the many challenges he faced every day only because I was there at the right time in the right place.

Meeting Mark was easy, both because he was so friendly and immediately likable, but also because he needed help from whoever was available. And just like that you became part of his world.

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Bonus:

Watch Mark Give a Tour of His Highly-Specialized Adaptive Van:

#1in10billion #quadriplegia