70-Year-Old Man Threatens To Shoot Cop With Cane — According To Cop

So of course the cop shot the 70-year-old man. Eric Lach of TPM:

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What every cop understandably fears
(NOT the incident described here)

York County, S.C. deputy Terrance Knox fired at Bobby Canipe after mistaking Canipe's cane for a shotgun, according to the Associated Press. Knox had pulled Canipe over for an expired tag, and the dashcam video shows Canipe pulling over quickly after Knox put on his lights and siren. Canipe then gets out of his truck, and reaches for his cane in the truck bed. Knox can be heard yelling as Canipe swings the cane and points the end of it in his direction.

Knox ran up to Canipe after shooting him. According to the Associated Press, another officer arrived a few minutes after the shooting, and at that point Knox began to sob.

"I promise to God I thought it was a shotgun," Knox said.

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Gawd, I hate incidents like this.

My ancient '94 Chevy is low-slung, presumably to give it a sporty look. Getting out of it is a real challenge for me. Typically I have to open the door as wide as possible, swing my legs out (assisting my prosthetic right leg with both hands), reach back and grab my cane, prop the cane between the inside door handle and the ground, grip the steering wheel and seat back with my hands behind me, push hard to propel myself out of the car into a standing position and grab the cane before I fall over. I came close to the "fall over" part a few times before I worked out this procedure. It's reliable, but ugly... it's much harder than getting out of even a low easy chair. My point is this: when a cripple exits a car, s/he has at most a couple of seconds to locate the cane and stabilize.

There's not a lot of margin for error, and social pleasantries from a cop are unlikely to get an instant response until the cripple is stable on his/her feet. I understand that the cop is "twitchy" at the possibility of being greeted with a gun, but that doesn't change the cripple's reality in managing to comply with the cop's directive to get out of the car with hands visible.

The York County sheriff offered this bit of wisdom:

"Watch the action of the walking cane," Bryant said during a news conference Wednesday. "The question is, at the time this officer pulled the trigger, did he feel like his life was in danger? I can say this. Any reasonable officer would have felt that way. … I would have had to take the same action he did."

Right. And any reasonable cripple expects to die the moment the cop orders him/her to exit the car. It's a horrible situation.

In this case, the man with disabilities survived and is "expected to recover," whatever the hell THAT means. Next time the outcome could be different.

Shake A Leg! Or... When Life Hands You Lemons...

Fascinating, as Spock will someday say. This was a first-ever experience for me.

MetroLift hires large cabs for short-distance local runs. They're sort of like a bus with only five seats, and I presume they're more fuel-efficient than the small buses used on larger or more distant runs, so it makes sense to subsidize a willing cabbie to carry five people to several nearby destinations.

The one that arrived at TIRR Kirby Glen to pick me up (late, of course) was jam-packed with people. One seat, middle row right, remained vacant, so I began hefting myself into it. Unfortunately, front seat right was occupied by an absolutely imMENSE person. I could not get in; there was no room for my legs. I asked the immense person (I couldn't tell their sex from my viewpoint) to move his/her seat forward; s/he accommodated politely without complaint. I still couldn't get in. The driver checked whether my seat could be moved back; the answer: no.

I looked at the driver and the other passengers, decided they'd seen it all, and muttered, "I have an idea." I pushed the button that releases the pin on my prosthesis, reached down and... yes... took off my leg. I set the prosthesis between my knees, put on my seatbelt, and away we went. No one uttered a sound. Obviously those people had in fact seen it all already.

The moral of the story is this: if you're desperate to climb aboard a packed public conveyance, have an amputation. There might just be room for you if you board the vehicle a piece at a time.

Or...

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade... in your hollow leg!

MetroLift Afterthoughts

Well, that was an exhausting challenge. METROLift is exTREMEly challenging to use, but it's probably worth it to me to persevere. Here are the vexations:

• You can use the web site to schedule trips only from 5:00am to 5:00pm (though the trips themselves can be earlier or later). In practical terms, for most people including me, this means getting up at dawn's crack, before this morning's ride, to schedule all of tomorrow's rides, because by the time most people get off work, the site is closed... you can view scheduled trips, but you can't schedule any new trips. Scheduling trips by phone has a time window even more restrictive.
• You are required to confirm your trip on the morning of the trip. You can do this by phoning or by visiting the scheduling web site. The phone line is overwhelmed at the busiest times of the morning; I was placed on hold for over 15 minutes on three attempts... twice on my cell phone as I was stranded outside waiting for the lift, i.e., with no web access available. I don't often wish for a smartphone, but this was one of those times.
• When you do get through, you find that the expected time of arrival at your location changes from minute to minute, always to a later time, as drivers take on passengers many of whom don't walk or roll very well. This morning, by the time my van arrived, it was almost an hour late of its originally scheduled time. (METROLift even tells you to lie to its system and schedule all your rides early, well before you actually need to be underway to get there on time.) I reached my morning destination right on time, barely. The afternoon van was a tiny bit more punctual; it was only about a half hour late. Even so, Stella, meeting me after my event, departing from a nearby bus stop, got home before I did.
• I still don't have my METROLift ID card, probably thanks to USPS... I know my ID number and associated password; those, plus a ticket and a photo ID (my otherwise seldom-used driver's license) will get you on board.

And I get to do it all over again tomorrow. You don't dare casually wander out to the curb 20-30 minutes later than your scheduled time, because not only might you get left standing at the curb, but Metro penalizes you for frequent "no-rides" by removing your riding privileges. They're doing the best they can, I'm doing the best I can, and the results are... well, exasperating is a kind word for them. By the time I got home at around 2:00pm, I was utterly exhausted. I had planned to tell you about the custom wheelchair I may be getting, but I just don't have the energy at the moment.

I think I'd better get some rest now. It's going to be an early morning tomorrow...

Disability Miscellany

Two items: this is my first day to ride METROLift for real, and this is the day the TIRR wheelchair clinic measures me for a custom wheelchair. Stella and I both sincerely hope this one is lighter weight; neither of us can lift my current rental job into the trunk of a car.

Off to the "races" ...

Transporter Malfunction? Try Another Transporter

The use of that large well-known volunteer org for transportation from home to my therapy sessions and back is proving fairly much a disaster. First they sent a vehicle I could not board: city-bus-style stairs were its only entrance. Next they sent a vehicle more suitable, but 40 minutes late. I've been burdening my friends and my mate; that doesn't always work out well, because most people I know are full-time employed.

Determined to try again... by this time I'd bought $20 worth of coupons for the service... I called to set up some rides for the following week. "None available, booked up," said the clerk. "How about the following week?" I inquired. "Booked up," she informed me.

"OK," I said, with as much artificially polite patience as I could muster. "Please tell me when there are rides available." There was a moment's pause; then she said, "Starting about April 10." So I have a $20 coupon book, less the two rides I've already used, that can't be used for a full month.

Time to look elsewhere.

My first "elsewhere" is Houston MetroLift, our city transit service aimed at disabled people. I had already applied for it a few weeks back; it takes a while for them to get you on their list. My interview is this Wednesday... yes, they require an in-person interview to confirm that you are in fact crippled, and decide which (if any) services you are eligible for. In their defense, they will provide you a MetroLift ride to the interview. They'll even tell you which day the interview is on... but not what time of day, until the night before. I'll be calling them Tuesday night after 9:00pm, and I won't be scheduling anything else on Wednesday. Whatthehell, cripples don't have schedules to spoil, right?

I believe you still have to buy and use coupons; I'm not sure. But at least it's one more option, cheaper than a cab, and I've heard of only one instance of their leaving someone stranded. Onward we march...

In News Of The Disabled...

"Blade Runner" Oscar Pistorius, South African paralympic gold medalist known for running on prostheses replacing both feet, has been charged with murder of his girlfriend.

Damn. A week ago, I didn't know Pistorius existed. I discovered him as I searched for information on leg and foot prostheses.

Now he's formally charged with murder. Innocent or guilty, he'll probably find his fleet feet won't help him this time.

(Don't expect a similar story out of Our House...)

Higgledy Piggledy, Physical Therapy...

It's a promising beginning for a double dactyl, but it will have to wait, because I have too much, um, physical therapy on my plate at the moment.

I haven't forgotten the blogosphere or this blog, but when even the simplest household acts require twice the time and four times the energy, it's a bit overwhelming. E.g., imagine going to the bathroom, on a walker, on only one leg.

Or changing clothes. Or rinsing a dish in the kitchen sink while sitting in a wheelchair. AND having assignments of exercises, some supervised by your P.T., some using fancy equipment but many just as difficult using cut-out sections of colorful balloons, either gripped in your hands or tied in knots around your leg(s) and the chair you're sitting in. Or lifting weights that seem tiny when you read the numbers on them, but not so small on the 10^th, 15^th, 20^th... repetition of some simple exercise.

Or learning to climb the shallowest step from a brick patio to a wooden deck using a walker... when you lack one foot or one leg.

Or walking around a typical American 3-2-2 house on a walker for every. damned. thing. you. need. to. do in the course of a day.

I'm sure jams knows exactly what I mean; he's been through it. I don't doubt others of you have some first-hand experience as well.

Twice this week I've slept 12 hours in a night. The greatest injustice is that Stella can't do the same herself, and goodness knows most of the housework falls on her, including the chores that once were mine. With luck, they will be mine again at the conclusion of this process. But that's weeks or even months away.

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Still, none of us has any real complaint, compared to the many children with disabilities (and their caregivers) who face all these things and more. And my disability, though permanent, can often be remedied to a point of resuming a more-or-less normal life. How many people, including children, have no such prospect? I have no basis for bellyaching.

For an amputee, balance is the key

I suppose the WSJ sees these kids as "lucky duckies" because they receive government benefits including some tax breaks. There's about as much basic human compassion in these members of the 1% as in Republican candidates in the last election. And they wonder why they did so poorly in that election. And I wonder why Democrats cut GOPers any slack at all. I mean, it's not as if the 1% never ends up physically disabled...

If this post has a point, it is that the political IS personal, the more personal for those with greater disabilities, and more personal in the other direction for people with greater advantages.

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I know none of the people in these pictures personally. But I share a bond with all of them. We face a challenge which does not confront people who have no major disability. Every day we face such a challenge... sometimes with good grace, sometimes with unrestrained frustration, but it is always there in front of us. Steering a wheelchair through narrow hallways or balancing on a walker as one transitions from a chair or bed or wheelchair to our primary means of mobility... at least for now... or making it up a single stair (even 2" or 3", even just one), we grin and grit teeth and go for it. It is a game we win every time we arrive on our feet (or foot) without crashing, or return to the table with a dish not shattered on the floor, or just plain make it to the bathroom with no accidents. The victories in this life are small but savored unreservedly by every one of us you see in those pics.

Join us in our fortune, good and ill... it's like nothing the WSJ's self-satisfied "lucky duckies" are likely to experience in their lives. We are alive, when we might so easily not have been... and damn, we know it every single moment. Join us!

Joe Lieberman Leaves - Few Notice

Joe Lieberman made his farewell speech to the Senate. People who knew him found reasons to be elsewhere. I'm sure they were good reasons...

What was Lieberman's worst flaw?

I could rail on about his party-hopping shenanigans to keep his Senate seat. I could complain of his sententiousness. I could gripe that he was really Joe Lieberman (Likud-CT). But no, his worst is none of those...

HE PARKED IN HANDICAPPED PARKING SPACES!

Now there's a "moral handicap" to send him to the deepest levels of Hell!

Good riddance to bad rubbish. I am sorry I ever voted for him even once.