I know it’s lame, but I couldn’t get this song out of my head then! 😛

I was adamant about not getting a wheelchair at the airport, but my parents strongly insisted on it. By strongly insisted, I actually mean demanded.

I gave in and called Air Canada last minute, admitting that it would just be easier for me to avoid the hustle and bustle at the airport.

It definitely was easier! We made our way through security so quickly and had a lot of time to kill before boarding. The wheelchair attendant also helped us with our carry-on baggage.

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The flight from Los Angeles to Toronto lasted four and a half hours. When sitting at home I would usually get up every 20 to 30 minutes to walk around, but this was not really possible in the plane. I felt tired and stiff all over, especially my shoulders that practically just got out of a straight jacket that was the halo brace.

Landing at Pearson, we got to ride the golf cart to get to the wheelchairs! My brother was ecstatic.

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Being on the wheelchair also expedited going through customs. I resisted the idea of the wheelchair so much because I didn’t want to actually feel disabled even though I kind of was. I was stubborn because I knew I could handle the walks through the airport, but why make it harder on myself? What was I out to prove? I learned that sometimes I just have to concede to the fact that I do have an unstable, broken neck after all. I mean, if there’s anyone who could get away with getting a wheelchair, it’s me.

At the baggage claim:

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We were welcomed by our parents at international arrivals. My husband met us at my parents’ home an hour after we arrived, after he had driven eight hours from his hometown in QuĂ©bec.

It took over three and a half months, but I was finally, finally home.

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