The Weigh-In

The sky was gray with an ominous look of rain. Rain and soon. But today was the day we had planned to weigh her and weigh her we would. It was no small task. It involved two vehicles, two drivers, a loader, a grainery truck scales and a negotiator, but we were all of one mind. The goal…to get Aunt Trish back on public transportation.

It happened quite out of the blue one day last spring. Aunt Trish was kicked off public transportation. The guardians of the County transportation system in all their wisdom said they would no longer take my aunt on their van because “she is too heavy.” Apparently on two occasions there was a problem with the van’s lift, either while Trish was on the van or after she had used the lift. The lift, I was told later, had a capacity for 850 lbs, but the mechanics had recently stated they didn’t think it should lift more that 650 lbs. Now, Trish’s electric customized wheel chair weighs a lot. The wheelchair manufacturer had estimated the weight to be approximately 300 lbs. And quite honestly, Trish didn’t know what she weighed. We all knew she had gained weight in the 5 years she had lived at the assisted living facility, but no one knew how much. (As one can imagine there are not many places equipped to weigh large wheelchairs with large people in them.) Actually several of us had ventured guesses. “We should take up a pool” suggested one concerned family member. “Five dollars per guess.” I suppose the proceeds could have gone to a charity of Trish’s choice. But I digress...

Due to Aunt Trish’s limited ability to transfer herself except in certain places and situations, she relied heavily on being able to get in her electric chair and roll straight onto the transportation van without transferring to another seat. At that point, the city would open up to her. She could roll into the mall, Wal-mart, the Chinese Buffet and more importantly her doctor’s appointments. It was now September and Trish had not been anywhere for about 5 months. She had lived day in and day out in that microcosm that is … an assisted living facility. If you think for one minute that there isn’t drama at an old folks home ... think again. Think adolescent mentality, throw in a little senility, a lot of prescription medications and good healthy dose of self-centeredness and you have a fairly accurate description of life at an assisted living home. For someone in complete control of their mental faculties, like Trish, it could grow quite tiresome.

My father (Trish’s brother) and I began the morning with transferring Trish to the minivan’s back seat. This task involved a sliding board, a black garbage bag, Trish’s uncanny ability to bend her knee and ankle in an odd way and lots of pushing. We then used portable ramps to load the wheelchair into the back of his pick-up truck. This may not sound daunting, but if you have never ridden in wheelchair going up a 35 degree slope… well I will just say that it does take a wee bit of courage. We covered the chair with plastic and tied it down with ropes. The gray clouds were still threatening. My father drove the truck with the chair. I drove the van with Trish.

We traveled for about 20 minutes before we spied the tall silver grain bins that were our destination. The scales were actually concrete slabs in the middle of a dusty gravel road adjacent to the grain bins. The grain trucks would drive onto the scales. The light would turn red, the weight would be documented and then the light would turn green and the huge grain trucks would drive off. Trish’s weigh-in was a little more involved. We parked both vehicles in the grass adjacent to the scales. We unloaded the wheelchair with the ramps. We unloaded Trish onto the wheelchair…again with sliding board, garbage bag and much pushing. Dodging the grain trucks with the fall harvest, Trish rolled onto the concrete scales in the middle of the dusty road. We got the green light and she rolled off. We transferred her back into the van. I drove the chair back up onto the scales got off and the empty chair was weighed. We then loaded the chair back up onto the truck and covered it with the plastic sheet as the first raindrops began to fall.

My father went into the office of the grainery and got the written evidence we needed. As we caravanned through the rain to the County Transportation Office, Trish commented nonchalantly, “Well, I guess they (the men at the grainery) don’t see that every day. I think it went well, don’t you? And look, we made it just time for the rain. SOMEBODY is looking out for us.” Nodding my assent, I smiled at her courage to get the pesky job of weighing-in over and done with. What female in her right mind ever enjoys weighing, much less doing it in front of a bunch of men?

Under the portico of the Transportation Office, with the rain still falling, the Keepers-of-the-Vans, better known as Doris and Charlotte, received the full frontal attack from the tag team of Trish and me. Armed with the little slips of paper from the grainery, we confirmed that Trish and her magic mobility chair, were waaaaay under the lift’s limit and we would be scheduling her next van pick-up for next Thursday, thank you very much. Mission accomplished!