For those of us who are wheelchair bound, we have fewer options when it comes to taking care of ourselves. We have to find ways to adapt to be able to follow many healthy recommendations. However, some things may come easier to those of us who get around in wheelchairs than to the general population.

I’m speaking specifically about meditation. Being in a wheelchair for many years has helped me develop plenty of patience. Because of that patience, when I tried meditation for the first time, it came completely naturally.

Try a daily 15 minutes or so of quiet meditation. Turn off all distractions, close your eyes, and focus on your breathing. Take the time to really let yourself escape the daily pressures. For me, it’s the most free I ever feel. And I can do it every day. Try it.

When I first had to start using a power wheelchair, it was mostly because of balance problems. My legs had become so weak, I would just tip and teeter all over the place. So I thought my power wheelchair was the answer to my balance issues.

But my physical therapist helped me understand that I still need a good sense of balance to keep me safe even in the power chair. He has designed specific exercises to help me strengthen my core muscles as much as I can to help me still be able to reach for things (as simple as shaking someone’s hand) without feeling like I’ll fall out of my chair. It’s been great.

So tell me if any of you have had similar experiences. I go into my physical therapy appointment and meet my therapist. He’s a handsome, middle-aged man with a friendly smile. He bends down, places his hand on my wheelchair, and explains what we’ll be doing to help my shoulder recover from surgery. Everything sounds so great and he has such a kind way of explaining things that I feel reassured and I’m actually excited.

Then the handsome, friendly man straps me into a machine that makes medieval torture devices look like a child’s playground. The next thing I know, my shoulder is being stretched and pulled in positions I’m sure aren’t natural. As I’m sweating profusely, I look up and the handsome physical therapist is smiling at me—like he’s enjoying this. So has anyone else had this experience? (In all seriousness, he’s a nice guy but he’s killing me!)