The Shenanigans of My Left Arm: A Cerebral Palsy Comedy
I thought this picture was fitting because it is one of my favorites of myself from camp. The second story happened while I was at camp.
Living with cerebral palsy means my body sometimes has its own ideas about how to behave—especially my left arm. It’s like having a mischievous sidekick who’s always ready to stir up a little chaos, whether I’m ready for it or not.
Algebra, Awkwardness, and Accidental Affection
Back in college, I had a rotating cast of note-takers—scribes who helped me keep up in class. Most of them were great, and I didn’t think twice about whether they were male or female. But there was one guy who always insisted on sitting on my left side. Now, my left arm is the more “expressive” one, thanks to my CP. It doesn’t always check in with me before it starts moving.
One day in algebra class, I was laser-focused on the lecture, soaking in every equation. Then I glanced down—and to my horror, my left hand was casually stroking my scribe’s thigh like we were on a date! I yanked it back like it had touched a hot stove and did my best to pin it to my lap, silently begging it to behave. My scribe, bless him, didn’t say a word. But I’m pretty sure we both pretended it never happened.
Camp Chaos and the Thigh Trap
Another memorable moment came during summer camp when I was a teenager. I was being unstrapped from the van—those heavy-duty straps that keep my wheelchair secure during transport. The guy helping me also had CP, but he was ambulatory. As he moved around me, he accidentally triggered my startle reflex.
My left arm shot up like a rocket—right between his legs.
His instinct? Clamp his thighs together to protect himself. Logical, right? Except trapping my arm only made the spasms worse. So there we were: me, stuck in a very compromising position, and him, unintentionally making it worse by holding on for dear life.
Eventually, I realized the only way to calm my arm down was to lean forward and have him release the grip. Once we coordinated our escape plan, my arm relaxed, and he went back to unhooking my chair like nothing had happened. I, on the other hand, was mortified for days. He was a longtime friend, and I had never imagined we’d share such an awkwardly intimate moment.
These Days, Fewer Thighs—More Laughs
My left arm still has a flair for the dramatic, but I’ve learned a few tricks to keep it in check. And while I haven’t had any more thigh-related incidents in adulthood, I’ve definitely collected enough stories to keep people laughing for years.
Living with CP means embracing the unexpected—and sometimes, that means laughing at the chaos my body creates. My left arm may be unpredictable, but it sure knows how to make life interesting.
