COMING IN WHEELCHAIR
Ella, the protagonist of the novel is a wheelchair user, a woman who had a spinal cord injury. She tries to find herself and her own niche in the society. She is an archer. During a champion- ship she gets acquainted with Data, an artist who also uses a wheelchair. The man turns out to be one of the former members of Mkhedrioni (a criminal group in the Republic of Georgia, out- lawed in 1995). Ella forgives Data the mistakes of the past and they go out on dates. She falls in love with him but she soon finds out that Data has a girlfriend, his beautiful doctor who can walk. Ella refuses herself her own feelings, breaks off with Data and becomes actively involved in Paralympic sports as an archer. On her path of the Champion of Europe, she understands that there is no tragedy in the need to use a wheelchair. Now she knows how to accept things as they are, she’s learnt how to live without Data. She knows that the limited ability to move will never set limits to her personality. Ella learns how to free herself from the bonds of the past and how to go on. Finally, she meets another man and everything changes with lightning speed. The erotic and romantic adventure of the disabled young woman is absolutely different and thrilling. Coming in Wheelchair is a novel about a stout-hearted, strong woman who will never stop because of her injured body or the feeling of resentment. She is the winner and the Paralympic Champion who never looks back.The cover of the original novel was designed by the first lady of Georgia, Maka Chichua.
Translated into English by Eka Machitidze
Time spent at the resuscitation unit, connected to the breathing equipment, taught me what it is like to breathe freely. After those six months spent in bed without movement I realized what a happiness it is to finally get up. However, my own legs couldn’t bear me and I reentered the world in a wheelchair: The world was divided into ramps and stairs.
I had always led an active lifestyle and soon found my way to the disabled movement. Now I had friends among wheelchair users and had got accustomed to viewing from the bottom upwards.
I often had to come across the unconscious pity of others.
The capital had peeled off its defenseless shabbiness and the past had preserved all the fearful evenings and the dark.
The value of human life had risen. I enjoyed composing poems when I was little girl and the wheelchair brought back the desire to write again.
I read what I had indited to Tiko by the phone. Tiko was a pretty girl, running a pretty wheelchair. I WILL ALSO FLY.
She liked it.
I kept writing.
Wheelchairs differ: mobile and high-speed ones, jeeps and Ferraris… I’m kidding, of course. A good helmsman can even make his wheelchair go up the stairs.
Seated in a roughrider, I turned out to be lazy enough, always asking others: “Just push me, oh, push me”.
Once I wasn’t bedridden, I was filled with happiness. The sun was shining above my head, not in the window. I could even drive my car.
There are few disabled persons in our city, who drive cars.
The City Hall registered me and I proudly stuck the Adapted Vehicle and Disabled Parking permit to the car.
I could call anyone in the street: “Excuse me… please take my wheelchair out of the boot”. The perplexed passerby would necessarily take the wheeled chair which I could not accommodate in the passenger compartment.
“Push here and it’ll open”, I usually said and leaning against the steering wheel sat into the wheelchair. (See PDF)
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