The Red Tent, The Red Scooter and Uber Rich

Jesus - and Joann- surprised me Friday night.

“How was the Uber ride?“ she asked.

I had forgotten.

When we were packing up after last week’s Red Tent class, I had announced, “Feel free to pray for my Uber ride back from Kessler (West Orange) this afternoon.“

I live with PTSD, and a few Uber rides have triggered me in the past, leaving me sleepless and pumped with unwanted chemicals for several days.

After my husband dropped me off at Kessler an hour and a half later, it was a love feast. Kessler is my second home, I lived four of the eight months of my hospitalization there and served as a volunteer for four years afterwards.

So yes, all that love was exhilarating.

Then I went into my wheelchair clinic appointment, which I had waited for for one full year – the outpatient waiting time with the best wheelchair fitters in the business. 

Rather than risk another fall, I decided to stay local and gatherings outside of church and hospitals - theater, conferences - were out of the question. But then yours truly decided to go to a NJ Baroque Orchestra concert last month.

Wrong move.

By intermission my body was pulsing with pain that the music couldn’t even sooth. We made our way out to the hallway and stayed there for the rest of the performance.

And two weeks later I fell in a church hall from a loud noise and my startle reflex.

And then at the end of our Bible study two weeks ago, the phone call came. It was Kessler, “Do you still want to come in to the wheelchair clinic?“

“Yes!”

So my husband dropped me off at Kessler. Since he was working till 10 PM and going to be in three different locations, a ride home was not possible.

Enter Uber and an extravagant cost.

At the wheelchair clinic they wanted me to try some “portable” power chairs – but at the tune of 50+ pounds unless whoever was going to drive me was CrossFit, that wasn’t going to happen.

“A scooter,“ one of the therapy team suggested, “let’s try a scooter.“

Note, my dear friend CarolAnn has suggested a scooter last summer. No, not on your life was my immediate hidden response.

Out came the scooter, a bright red scooter. Syndi showed me how to transfer, and I found only a slight touch of my thumbs would steer it.

One ride through the lobby, faster than I had I’ve ever been able to walk since my spinal cord injury, and released from gauging 600 environmental obstacles with every step I took, I was cruising.

I was free.

My mind was made up. The staff pointed out that I would have a front pole in front of me as an obstacle – indeed that was not a deterrent - it made me ecstatic! Something to keep me a bit more safe from lumbering bodies, knocking into me. A little bit of a placebo PTSD buffer!

Immediately after our meeting I got a text. My husband had had an inspiration on how to handle one of the meetings that night, and needed to drive back to Long Valley to get something for it. Did I want a ride? He was already out in the parking lot. When I opened the truck door he said, “Uber Rich here!”

So when I asked you ladies to pray for my Uber ride, God certainly heard you and threw every thing else in the package.

When I go out speaking for Him, I can navigate crowds in my bright red scooter! So thank you Red Tent sisters for your prayers – and thank you Joann for sparking my memory. 

So the red tent sisters, the red scooter, and Uber Rich lived happily ever after.

Maryann P. Hobbie

5 February 2020