Saying good-bye to fear isn’t easy. But sometimes, the kindness of a stranger can help.
—
When my son was four years old, he was in a horrific car accident. It left him hospitalized for several days. He underwent several CT scans, rounds of poking and prodding from nurses and doctors, and left him with scars I didn’t even know about. One of these fears I was soon to find out about. He was terrified of wheelchairs.
My happy-go-lucky little boy was never afraid of strangers. He always smiled, even when they touched his bright red hair, which he hated to have ruffled. He always waved at people he didn’t know. Yes, I taught my son about stranger danger. So, he always stayed close by my side and he never told anyone his name without me giving him the okay first. We’re from a small town and I always felt relatively safe to let him be the outgoing, personably child that he naturally was. I was proud of his ability to light up a person’s day with his sparkling blue eyes and ready smile.
That all changed after his stay in the hospital. I didn’t realize it at first. I had stayed at home with him for a while before venturing out into our little town for a shopping spree for the new shoes that he needed. The shoes were to replace the ones that had been cut off from him by ambulance personnel after his accident. So, I tried to make it an adventure for him and promised he could pick out his own shoes for the first time. He held my hand as we entered the store and started forward towards the kid’s shoe section. That’s when he spotted the shop owner coming around the corner. My son froze and screamed. He didn’t scream like a child normally would scream, you know the one that says I’m not getting my way, I’m not happy, or I’m just going to make a scene. This was an ear-splitting, gut-wrenching scream that didn’t end. He was frozen in place and terrified. I knelt down beside my son to calm him and eventually he stopped shaking. I could faintly hear the store clerk apologizing, but I was still just focusing on my son. I couldn’t imagine what had made him react so violently. He finally picked up his chubby little hand and pointed to the clerk as he tried to control his sobs. It was the wheelchair. I hadn’t even registered that the man was in a wheelchair, but in that split second I knew. My son was terrified of the chair. He had seen so many of them and was associating them with all of the pain and hurt he had just endured.
I picked my son up and held him tight. I couldn’t think of what I could do. I was embarrassed by his outburst but also worried that he would have a lasting emotional scar from such a traumatic hospital visit. I just wanted to make everything right, for all three of us. So, I did the only thing I could think of to do. I went up to the counter, holding my son, and explained about the accident to the store clerk. He was very kind. He told me to take my son back to shop for shoes and he would see what he could do to help.
He started talking to us, lightly at first, from all the way across the room and behind the counter. When I set my son down to look at shoes, the man came out from behind the counter and wheeled up a row away from where we were shopping. He continued to talk, pointing out the newest shoes with lights and cartoon characters. As he talked, my son started to become interested in the voice. He would turn to find the man, always smiling, and then he would cling back to my side. The man would inch closer the entire time we shopped, until he was right next to us with the wheelchair. He then started to talk directly to my son, about his wheelchair instead of about the shoes. He told my son that he didn’t need the fancy shoes with lights because he had this great set of wheels. He told him that the wheels didn’t hurt him and that he could do tricks with the wheels (and showed him a few). My son gradually let go of my hand and stood fascinated by the shopkeeper and his fancy wheels.
♦◊♦
We must have been in that shop for hours. I didn’t interrupt. I let the two carry on their one-sided conversation about the wheels versus shoes. Every few minutes my son would get a little closer to the man and even smiled at one of his tricks. He eventually forgot to cling to my side at each jerking motion of the wheelchair maneuvering around the store, and instead followed as the shopkeeper showed him how he was able to do everything “without shoes.”
My son was so enthralled with listening and watching that he forgot, for a while, that he was there to buy new shoes himself and I had to remind him to choose a pair. As the man rang out our purchase, my son asked to be lifted up so he could say good-bye over the counter to the shopkeeper. He then asked my son, “Would you like to say good-bye to the chair too?” My little sweetheart nodded his head and went around the counter to touch the wheel of the chair, ever so lightly, and say good-bye.
I bless that shopkeeper, to this day, for taking the time and having understanding to help my son say good-bye to his fear and welcome back his openness and curiosity.
—-
Photo: Stathis Stavrianos
Just find out about your blog Brandy. great content and very touching stories.