Chapter 42

Nick

I used to think packing for a tour was stressful, but that was before Kevin became paralyzed. As it turns out, traveling with a person in a wheelchair is way worse. As we walked – or, in Kevin’s case, rolled – into LAX with a full luggage rack, I was terrified we were forgetting something.

I took a mental inventory as I lifted each bag onto the scale at the check-in counter. The first one was mine. The second was AJ’s. The third contained Kevin’s clothes and toiletries. The fourth was full of his medical supplies. “It’s really important that all this makes it to Orlando in one piece,” I told the agent as I picked up the portable shower commode chair we had purchased at the last minute from a medical supply store. “It’s medical equipment.”

“Of course, sir,” the agent replied, signaling for me to set the commode on the scale as well. “We’ll make sure it gets put on the plane.”

I was glad we had booked a direct flight. It seemed less likely that the airline would lose our luggage that way. I knew Kevin was worried about getting through the long flight, but I thought it would be easier than trying to navigate multiple airports and planes. I was already nervous about the process of getting him and his wheelchair onto the plane. I would feel better once he was strapped into his seat and his chair was stowed safely beneath the cabin.

“Now, his wheelchair also needs to be checked,” the agent added, pointing to Kevin. “Would you prefer to check it here or at the gate?”

“At the gate,” Kevin answered without hesitation. Over the past few days, we had done plenty of research to find out everything we could about flying as a quadriplegic, and that was one piece of advice that kept popping up: Keep your wheelchair with you for as long as possible. We had heard horror stories about wheelchairs being damaged by airlines and passengers who developed pressure sores from sitting in the provided airport wheelchairs without proper padding for too long. The part that made me most nervous was knowing Kevin would eventually have to check his chair and board the plane without it. What if it got lost or damaged while it was being loaded onto the plane? What if Kevin ended up stranded at the Orlando airport without a working wheelchair?

I pushed those worries aside as the agent put a tag on Kevin’s chair and handed us our boarding passes. I held on to Kevin’s as we headed towards the security checkpoint. Since we were flying first class, we were able to avoid the long line of coach passengers and go through the faster elite line. When we got to the front, Kevin went first. He couldn’t go through the metal detector in his power chair, so the TSA agent ran a wand all over his body and chair to check for weapons, explosives, and whatever else they look for. AJ and I went through the metal detector and waited for him on the other side.

I held my breath as I watched our carry-on bags go down the conveyor belt to the X-ray machine. One of them contained the tools we needed to take off parts of Kevin’s power chair at the gate. “How the hell are we supposed to do that?” I’d cried when Kevin told me the wheelchair would have to be partially disassembled at the gate to fit into the cargo hold of the plane.

“According to the technician I talked to, just about everything can come off or fold down pretty easily,” Kevin had said. He’d spent most of the day after we found out Howie’s dad died on his phone, trying to ensure that this last-minute trip went as smoothly as possible. “We just have to take some tools with us to the airport.”

“Tools?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Will TSA let you take tools onto a plane?”

“As long as they’re less than seven inches long.”

We’d hit up Home Depot to buy a travel toolkit that had everything we needed, mainly a set of small wrenches to loosen the bolts on Kevin’s chair. When the bag they were packed in made it through the screening process without being pulled off the conveyor belt, I let out a huge sigh of relief.

The TSA agent finally finished patting down Kevin and allowed him to proceed. “You good, man?” AJ asked when he met us on the other side.

Kevin nodded, though he looked a little red in the face. “I’m glad I couldn’t feel that guy getting all up in my business,” he muttered under his breath. “But I guess he was just doing his job. If I’d had a bomb wedged between my butt cheeks, he would’ve found it.”

“Dude, don’t say ‘bomb’ at the airport!” AJ hissed, but he laughed along with me.

We made our way through the concourse to our gate and checked in with the agent there. “I’ll need an aisle chair to get on the plane,” Kevin told her.

Three days ago, I didn’t know what an aisle chair was. I’m sure I had walked right past them before in my many years of flying, but I had never paid enough attention to notice, let alone remember them. It wasn’t until we started researching what was required for a quadriplegic to fly that I realized Kevin couldn’t roll onto the plane in his own wheelchair. He would have to transfer to a narrower chair that could fit down the aisle to get to his seat.

“No problem, Mr. Richardson,” the gate agent replied. “Our wheelchair agents will be happy to assist you.”

Normally, we would have waited in one of the private VIP lounges, where we could have relaxed with a drink until our boarding call. But not that time. We stayed in the accessible seating area close to the counter so we could be ready when it was time to board. As a wheelchair user, Kevin would be the first one to get on the plane and the last to get off.

“I’m gonna make a Starbucks run,” AJ said once we got settled. “What do you guys want?”

I really wanted a latte. But, remembering I was supposed to be making healthier choices, I replied, “Just get me a regular coffee, tall, with two pumps of sugar free vanilla syrup and a splash of almond milk.”

He nodded. “Got it. How ‘bout you, Kev?”

Kevin hesitated, then shook his head. “I probably shouldn’t have anything to drink. I don’t wanna worry about having to empty my leg bag on the plane. But will you buy an extra bottle of water or juice or something just in case?”

I wasn’t sure if he meant “just in case” he got thirsty or “just in case” he needed an empty bottle to drain his catheter bag into. Maybe it was both. Either way, I didn’t ask, and neither did AJ.

“Sure, bro. Be right back.”

We watched AJ walk away. Then I glanced at Kevin and found him gazing at the screen over the gate counter, which gave the details of our flight. “You know, the last time I flew anywhere, it was this exact same trip – L.A. to Orlando – for Howie’s wedding in December,” he said wistfully. “I had Kristin and Mason with me, and my biggest worry was how we were gonna handle traveling with a baby.”

“You could have called Brian for advice,” I said, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction from the way it was heading.

“I did, actually.”

“Did he try to sell you one of Leighanne’s diaper bags?”

The corner of Kevin’s mouth twitched. “No… they already gave us one as a baby shower gift.”

I snickered. “Of course they did.”

Kevin cleared his throat. “My point is, that seems like a walk in the park compared to this. Now Kristin’s dead, I’m disabled, and you and AJ are stuck worrying about traveling with a guy in a wheelchair.”

“I’m not worried,” I lied, forcing a reassuring smile onto my face. “We got this, dawg.”

He gave me a grateful smile in return. “I know, and I appreciate everything y’all have done. I’m just saying, it’s crazy how quickly your whole world can change.”

I nodded. “Yeah… seems like we were just celebrating with Howie’s family at his wedding, and now we’re on our way to Papa D’s funeral.”

Kevin’s face flushed. “I know… it’s not about me. I probably sound like a selfish prick, don’t I?” he said apologetically. “Howie just lost his dad, and here I am feeling sorry for myself.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said, but maybe I did. I didn’t want Kevin to keep dwelling on how much his life had changed in the last six months. It was when he stopped moving forward and started looking back that he seemed the most depressed.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“You have every right to feel sorry for yourself,” I replied, resting my hand on his shoulder. “You’ve lost a lot more. Your life’s a lot harder now than it was then. But you’re here. You’ve made it this far.”

Kevin gave a nod. “And hopefully I’ll make it the rest of the way to Orlando without any major hiccups.” He glanced nervously out the window, where we could see several planes taxiing to and from their gates. I wondered when ours would pull up.

I was most anxious about taking Kevin’s chair apart and transferring him to his seat on the plane. Once that part was over, I would finally be able to relax for a few hours until we landed and had to repeat the process in reverse. But I tried to sound confident as I patted Kevin’s shoulder and said, “It’s gonna be fine. So far, so good, right?”

AJ returned with a cup of coffee for me and a bottle of water for Kevin. He started to open it for him, but Kevin shook his head. “Thanks, but I really shouldn’t have any now.”

AJ frowned. “You don’t wanna get dehydrated.”

“I also don’t wanna deal with any bathroom issues on the plane,” said Kevin, his cheeks darkening. “It’s a four-hour flight, and y’all usually empty my leg bag every three.”

“So? If it needs emptying on the plane, Nick’ll do it, no problem,” AJ replied, shooting me an evil grin. “So drink up, dude.”

I glared at him, discreetly giving him the middle finger while Kevin wasn’t looking.

After that, we sat in silence, sipping our drinks and scrolling through our phones as we waited for our plane to arrive. When it finally pulled up to the gate, we watched the passengers from its previous flight disembark while the ground crew unloaded their baggage. Once the plane was empty, we sprang into action.

I went to the bathroom with Kevin to help him empty his leg bag one last time before boarding the plane. There was a time when I might have felt weird about going into a stall with another guy, but these days, it didn’t even faze me. No one gave us a second glance as we came out of the handicapped stall together.

When we got back to the gate, there were two big guys in uniforms waiting with AJ. “They’re about to begin pre-boarding,” he said. “These gentlemen are here to check Kevin’s chair and help with transfers.”

“Oh, thanks, but I think we’ve got that part covered.” AJ and I had been practicing. We were like a pit crew, timing ourselves to see how long it took us to transfer Kevin out of his chair and tear it down, then put it back together.

The airport employees escorted us to the end of the empty jet bridge so we could do all this in private, without the pressure of a bunch of people standing around watching and waiting for us to finish so they could board the plane. The aisle chair was already there. It looked almost like a dolly that movers used to haul furniture, except it had a narrow padded seat with straps to hold Kevin in place. It was a good thing he was so thin; my ass would have been hanging off the sides of that tiny seat.

“AJ and I can do the transfer,” I told the two employees, “but we may need you guys to help strap him in.”

One of them nodded. “Of course.”

We parked the aisle chair next to Kevin’s power chair and pushed his arm rest and side guard out of the way. Then I positioned myself behind Kevin, sliding my arms under his and around his chest, while AJ stayed in front and placed his hands under Kevin’s knees. “Ready? One… two… three.” We lifted at the same time, shifting Kevin over to the aisle chair in one smooth movement.

Once Kevin was situated, AJ and I turned our attention to his empty wheelchair. Taking the toolkit out of my carry-on, I knelt behind the chair to switch off the power and put it in free-wheel mode so it could be easily pushed. As I started loosening the bolts on the seat back so I could lower it, I heard Kevin say, “Uh, guys, I feel like I’m about to fall over…”

I looked up to see him slumping sideways and quickly leapt to my feet. “I got you, bro.” Grabbing him by the shoulders, I pulled him back up so he was sitting straight again. “You have to hang on to him!” I snapped at the two assistants who were trying to wrangle the straps around him.

“Whoops… sorry, sir,” one of them apologized.

“It’s okay,” Kevin said quickly, looking embarrassed. “I should have told y’all I have no control over my core. I can’t stay balanced very well on my own.”

I didn’t trust the airport guys after that, so I stayed behind the aisle chair and held Kevin’s shoulders to secure him while they finished fastening the straps.

“I feel like Hannibel Lecter,” Kevin joked dryly when they were done.

Coming around to the front, I could see why. “Dude, you look like Hannibel Lecter,” I said, snickering. He was strapped tightly to the chair with belts and buckles that criss-crossed over his chest and circled around his legs to keep them together. Even if he’d had control of his muscles, he couldn’t have moved much. “You’re just missing the mask.”

He bared his teeth and used his tongue to make the deranged slurping sound Anthony Hopkins does in The Silence of the Lambs, which made both AJ and I burst out laughing. I’m sure the airport staff thought we were all nuts.

We finished disassembling Kevin’s wheelchair, taking off everything that could easily be removed: the headrest, armrests, joystick, side guards, and footplates. I put the parts in an empty tote bag we’d brought for just that purpose, so we could carry them onto the plane and keep them from getting lost or damaged in the cargo hold. AJ pulled up Kevin’s custom seat cushion and set it aside before folding the seat back down over the bottom. By the time we were done, it barely resembled a wheelchair anymore.

“I sure hope we can get this all put back together again,” AJ said with a nervous chuckle as he looked down at it.

“We can. We did it before,” I reminded him. AJ wasn’t the most handy of men, but I was confident in my own abilities. I had watched enough YouTube tutorials to know what I was doing.

“You better, or I’m screwed,” said Kevin, but he smiled. He had watched our pit crew practice sessions and knew what we were capable of. Besides, he had no choice but to trust us.

“We’ll make sure that gets loaded safely down below, sir,” one of the airport employees promised as he and his partner wheeled Kevin backwards onto the plane. “Keep your arms tucked in so you don’t bump your elbows.”

Kevin crossed his arms tightly over his chest as they navigated the narrow aisle. Thankfully, our seats were in first class, so they didn’t have to go far. “Do you want the aisle or window seat, sir?” the other man asked when they reached our aisle.

“The aisle seat would be easier to transfer in and out of, but that means one of you will have to climb over me to get in and out,” said Kevin, looking uncertainly at AJ and me.

“It’s okay. I’ll take the window seat; I don’t mind,” AJ offered, sliding into the row first. He set Kevin’s cushion in the seat next to him, leaving me to take the seat across the aisle.

The airport employees unstrapped Kevin and lifted him carefully over to his seat. “Are you comfortable, sir?” they asked as they fastened his lap belt and lowered his armrest. “Anything else we can do for you?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” said Kevin. “Thanks for all your help.”

After they left, I loaded our carry-on bags into the overhead bins and settled into my seat. As I buckled myself in, I breathed another sigh of relief. We’d successfully made it onto the plane. Nothing more to worry about for the next four hours. I hadn’t slept well the night before and was looking forward to taking a nap. As the rest of the passengers began to board, I leaned my head back, crossed my arms over my chest, and closed my eyes.

I dozed off and on for the duration of the flight. About once every fifteen minutes, I would wake up and glance over to make sure Kevin was okay. “How you doing?” I’d whisper across the aisle.

“Fine,” he would answer whenever I asked. “Don’t worry about me.” He looked perfectly content with his headphones on, listening to music or watching whatever movie was playing on the screen in front of him. But I couldn’t help but worry that something was going to go wrong. I was a nervous flier anyway, and accompanying Kevin on his first trip since the accident had only added to my anxiety.

Once the seat belt light came back on and the captain announced that we had started our descent into Orlando, I stayed awake, occasionally glancing out the window to watch the ground outside growing steadily closer. “Almost there, man,” I said to Kevin. “You still doing okay?”

“I’m getting hot,” he replied, tugging at the neck of his t-shirt. His face looked flushed and sweaty. “Is it just me, or is it stuffy in here?”

I looked down at the blanket the flight attendant had brought me. “I think it’s just you, bro. I was cold earlier.”

He grimaced. “Great. It’s probably my AD kicking in. My leg bag must be full.”

“Shit,” I swore softly, my own blood pressure skyrocketing. “What should we do? Use the bottle?”

“What, this one?” AJ held up the bottle of water he’d bought at Starbucks. It was still full.

“You better start chugging, AJ,” I told him.

He shook his head. “I can’t, dude. I already gotta pee.”

I rolled my eyes. AJ hated using plane lavatories and would hold it as long as possible to avoid using them. “Give it to me then,” I said, holding out my hand.

“Guys, it’s fine,” Kevin protested as I gulped down water. “We’ll be on the ground in half an hour. I can make it until then.”

“Are you sure?” I remembered what his doctor had said about autonomic dysreflexia being dangerous if left untreated. How long could Kevin wait until it became life-threatening?

“Yeah… I don’t wanna mess with doing that on the plane if I can help it,” he replied. He didn’t seem too concerned, but I was a basket case for the rest of the flight, imagining the worst-case scenarios that could result from waiting too long. What if he ended up with another infection? What if his blood pressure kept climbing until it caused a stroke or something?

I had never been so glad to feel the wheels touch the ground. But the second they did, Kevin went flying forward, smacking his face on the back of the seat in front of him. “Shit, Kev, you okay?” AJ gasped, pulling him upright again.

“Yeah,” Kevin said shakily, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “I just lost my balance when we landed. I’m like a damn rag doll these days.”

“Sorry, bro. I should’ve been using my mom arm.” Chuckling, AJ stretched his arm across Kevin’s chest and left it there until the plane slowed down and started taxiing to the gate.

“How you feeling, Kev?” I asked in a low voice as we came to a stop.

“My head’s pounding,” he admitted. “‘Course, that could be because I just hit it on the back of that seat.”

I forced myself to smile. “Hang in there. Just a few more minutes…”

Since we normally traveled in first class, we were used to being the first ones off the plane, but that was before Kevin’s injury. Now we had to sit and wait while everyone else got off first, which took way longer than I thought it would. It was torture watching all the other passengers walk past us while the minutes ticked by.

Finally, a pair of attendants brought an aisle chair onto the empty plane and repeated the whole process of strapping Kevin onto it to roll him off the plane. Thankfully, by the time we disembarked, his wheelchair was waiting for him on the jet bridge. AJ and I went into pit crew mode again, putting all the parts back on as quickly as we could. The chair appeared to be in perfect condition, but I still held my breath as I flipped the power switch, silently praying it would come back on. When I heard it beep, I let out my breath in a sigh of relief.

We transferred Kevin back to the chair, then raced off to the nearest restroom inside the terminal. AJ waited with our carry-on bags while I went in with Kevin to help him empty the bulging catheter bag strapped to his thigh. “Dude, you need to drink more water,” I said, frowning at the dark color of his piss as it drained through the tube and into the toilet. “You’re dehydrated.”

“I know. I will.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest of his chair, looking sick and tired as he rubbed his temples with his fists.

I was still worried about him. When we left the bathroom, I made a beeline for the Auntie Anne’s pretzel place across from it and bought a large lemonade, knowing it would come in a cup with a lid and a straw. “Chug,” I said, forcing the cup into Kevin’s hands.

I didn’t have to tell him twice. He slurped down the entire drink in a matter of minutes. When he was done, he let out a sigh and said, “Oh my god, I feel so much better.”

“Good,” I said, feeling a lot better myself as I tossed the empty cup into a trash can.

We made our way to baggage claim, where our luggage was waiting for us, along with a man from a local mobility equipment dealer who had rented Kevin an accessible van. I hadn’t realized we couldn’t rent a vehicle with a wheelchair ramp from a regular car rental company, so it was a good thing Kevin had called around. The guy helped AJ and me pile our suitcases and Kevin’s commode onto a luggage cart and led us out to the van.

I loaded everything into the trunk while the guy helped AJ buckle Kevin into the back. “I’ll drive,” AJ said, snagging the keys from him before I could get my hands on them. I slammed the trunk lid and slid into the passenger seat.

The drive from the Orlando airport to our hotel in Cocoa Beach took almost an hour. Kevin dozed in his chair, his chin drooping to his chest, while AJ drove. I gazed out the window, watching the familiar scenery drift past. The swampy wetlands and flatwoods of Florida were so different from the desert and mountains of southern California, but still beautiful in their own way. It felt good to get back to my home state, even if it wasn’t for a good reason.

“Wake up, Kevy Kev!” AJ called back when we got to the hotel, glancing into his rearview mirror. “We’re here!”

I turned around to see Kevin’s eyes flutter open. “How you feeling, bro?” I asked as he looked around in confusion.

He groaned. “Exhausted… but I’ll be all right. I could use some caffeine, though.”

I nodded in agreement. Now that we’d arrived, the anxious feeling in my stomach had been replaced by hunger pangs. Glancing at the dashboard clock, I said, “We’ve got time to grab a quick bite to eat before we get changed to go to the funeral home. Let’s go ahead and check in first while we’re here, and then we can get some food and caffeine.”

I could see the relief in his eyes as he smiled and replied, “Sounds like a plan.”

***