Empower Allen's Recovery with an Electric Wheelchair

My name is Lindsay Arielle, and I am raising funds to get my brother, Allen, a motorized wheelchair...

I’d like to tell you about my best friend, my brother from another mother, my unsuspecting soulmate, my companion through the darkest tunnels and lightest paths, Allen.

I met Allen almost a decade ago. We had a mutual friend and all three of us were active in alcoholism and addiction. I had a habit of getting stoned and waltzing into karaoke bars on my own to sing my soul out and fellowship with my equally lonely bar acquaintances. I will never forget the evening I encountered Allen in that hopping bar. We exchanged numbers and the rest is the history of a blossoming friendship turned into true sisterly and brotherly love.

I remember Allen calling me when he was finally ready to get sober and asking me how to do it. “Are you ready to admit you are powerless over alcohol?” “Yes,” he confided. “Has your life become unmanageable?” “Very,” he confessed. “Let’s go to a meeting.” And so, we did.

I had the honor of gifting Allen his 30-day token, and he has never removed that piece from his wallet. The indentation on the leather reminds him with every glance that healthy sobriety is a precious gift, and that he must work at it and cherish it. I’m sure it also reminds him that someone, me, deeply loves and cares for his well-being and recovery.

Our recovery coins read, “To Thine Own Self Be True.” It takes a true example in a man like Allen for a woman like me to finally realize it’s time that I get sober. So I did eventually.

Six months ago, I was dropping Allen off after a recovery meeting at his house where he stays in the basement. His parents are older so he lives with them and takes amazing care of each of them and the home they are blessed with. This particular evening drive was ominous, as Allen wasn’t chatting up a storm per his usual. I thought he might be tired and I encouraged him that I would get him home so he could rest and get a good night’s sleep.

As Allen opened my passenger car door, I saw him trip…

“Are you okay?”

“No. Something’s wrong. I can’t move my leg.”

“Hang on… Sit back down!”

I throw my cigarette, grab my phone, run around to the passenger side of the car, and one of my worst unforseen nightmares begins to unfold.

“I think I’m having a stroke.”

I call 911. Stroke symptoms. Ambulance is on their way.

I rush to knock on the back door to alert his parents. No answer. Back to the car.

I stroke his head and gently brush my fingers through his hair. My words are calm. My insides are screaming. My actions are swift and intentional. I tell him I love him. I tell him everything is okay and the ambulance is on it’s way. I re-assure him it’s okay to relax and stay calm. Inside of me is chaos. My friend. My bother. What’s happening? What’s wrong? HELP GOD! HELP!!!!!

The ambulance arrives. I did everything right. They comfort me.

Allen is on his way to what would become a living, breathing journey of healing like I have never seen before.

Fast forward to today. Allen can’t walk yet. His entire right side has lost function. It will take a long time, but he is ALIVE.

Our sobs, our prayers, our visits, our love, our God; we have all worked together and he is ALIVE.

I miss trips to the museum with my best friend. I miss random adventures with my brother from another mother. I miss time with my unsuspecting soulmate. His wheelchair, that’s a problem. I’m not as strong as I used to be.

So today, Allen could really benefit from an electric wheelchair and that is why I am writing this.

Thank you for every thought, every prayer, every visit, every call, every text, every tissue for my every tear. Let’s not stop now and let’s help Allen get an electric wheelchair so he can have more freedom.

With Deepest Gratitude and Love,

Lindsay