The Cure

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“Tina! My control!” Panic threatened to overwhelm me as my mouth searched for the joy-stick to my wheelchair. My arms were useless weights lying limply in my lap. The small furry shape of the Capuchin monkey that had been prowling around on the bookshelf stopped at the sound of my voice, cocking its head to study me with a puzzled look.

I tried again. “Come to daddy, bring me my control!” My mouth changed targets and fished for the light-wand that I used to guide Tina. As my lips closed on the thin rod, I pulled it out of its socket and aimed it at the control-box. An uncontrolled neck spasm had knocked the small joystick out of my reach. Then I clamped down with my teeth to trigger a thin red beam of light to hit the control.

Tina, my “helping hand”, leaped off the shelf and came scurrying across the floor. She scrabbled her way up one of my numb legs as she reached me. Tiny hands tugged on her little beard as her gaze swung back and forth from my face to the small metal box on its goose-neck. The small red spot wavered as I fought to keep the beam centered. Then with a low clicking gurgle, Tina jumped up on my shoulder and reached out to pull the control in next to my face where I could reach it.

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