The earth rumbled under my hospital bed. I watched the hospital trapeze sway a few times and then saw my wheelchair inevitably roll across the room.

Great. An earthquake, I thought. I’ll be stuck in bed until someone comes by. That was before I knew.

You know. If you’re reading this, you survived the Shifting like I did – the day all those global warming warnings came to fruition and the coasts just moved – the east a little further west and the west a bit more to the east and woe unto those who were in the wrong spot.

It reminded me a bit of a T shirt I once saw in the mall that read “What if what it’s all about really is the Hokey Pokey?”

But in this Hokey Pokey, you didn’t have a chance to move your left leg right or your right leg left or your sister or mother’s legs. Everything just Shifted and it was all out of control.

Being paralyzed, I was used to that reality more than most which is probably why I came through the Shifting in better shape than most people. I was, of course, initially concerned about how I’d get out of bed. But, like most days, I just took each challenge as it came and didn’t really find life after the Shifting much different than before.

Why? Everyone else was griping about roads being torn up, not being able to get around but when you use a wheelchair in an inaccessible world you’re used to that. Instead of celebrating that they were alive – hello! – they kept complaining about how inconvenient everything was. This or that store wasn’t open. There wouldn’t be electricity for a bit. No Oreo cookies.

As for me, when the rescuers showed up a few hours after the rumbling and swaying, I asked for one thing. “Just roll my wheelchair over to me so I can get into it and out of bed and I’ll take it from there,” I told them. Then I rushed them out so they could go help other people.

After all, I was safe enough. My house wasn’t damaged much. Later I discovered that the foundation, like everything else in the world, had shifted but I suppose considering the Theory of Relativity if everything shifted simultaneously my foundation was right where it should be.

I rolled into the kitchen to make my breakfast just like any other day and realized I’d have to eat a yogurt bar instead of making toast and coffee. I was munching on one when I heard a knock on the door. I rolled toward it but the door flung open wide and my friend Sue Ellen ran in.

“Thank God you’re okay!” she said, throwing her arms around me. She was wearing an old pair of jeans, a rainbow colored tie dyed Ben & Jerry’s T shirt and a Yankees baseball cap.

“You look like hell,” I said. “Or like you’re going to a Monkees concert.”

“No such thing. Don’t you know what’s happened?”

I actually didn’t at that point. “The nice men who rescued me didn’t say much about the earthquake. It was a big one.”

“It wasn’t an earthquake. We Shifted.” Sue Ellen sat on the edge of my hospital bed. All of my friends do that. It’s in my living room so it really doubles as a couch. But they also like to play with it – hit the buttons, go up and down. It’s fun for them. I guess she forgot there was no electricity because she went to hit the button and nothing happened. She sighed. “Anyhow, my neighbor Molly has one of those radios that you use in the sun.”

“Solar.”

“Right. You’re such a techie. And they’re saying that this is from the earth shifting from global warming. The whole country just Shifted.”

“Wow.” I thought about that for a minute. “So who did we lose?”

“What?”

“Well if it shifted somebody must have shifted – off.”

Sue Ellen shook her head. “Honestly, you’re so morbid sometimes. I mean it’s a mess out there. But it’s not like anyone died.”

I forced myself to say nothing. No sense trying to talk her into reality.

“I came over to see if you had electricity or water. I need a shower.”

“Nothing’s working here.”

“Well I’ll just have to wait until they turn everything back on.”

“That could be a while,” I suggested.

Sue Ellen shrugged and laid down on the bed. “At least we’ll be comfortable. We could watch TV – oh, no. We can’t. Do you have a battery operated DVD player?”

“No.”

“You really should. For things like this.”

I nodded. I could think of other things I’d need instead of the DVD player, but again said nothing. I watched as Sue Ellen rummaged through my entertainment center looking for something for us to do. I suppose she was coping by considering this a day off to play hooky.

“Here we go!” she shouted triumphantly. She held up a cassette tape. “You must have a battery operated cassette player. “

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Wow. This is going to be a drag.” She sighed, put the tape back and sat on the bed. “My cell phone won’t work, landlines are out and I had to climb over all kinds of trees and things to get over here. You know it could be a couple of days before things are back to normal.”

• *

So why was I surprised four days later when Sue Ellen had deteriorated into a tempest of complaints? I remember asking her to leave a few times but whatever was outside made her come back quickly.

“I’ll just stay a little longer,” she said and sat back down on the bed. Then the litany of complaints began. No water. No electricity. No pizza delivery. On and on until I wanted to scream. I pointed out that we had canned goods – tuna fish, sardines, ravioli. And I had jugs of clean water we could use to drink and sparingly wash.

I tried pointing out that we were much better off than most characters in Stephen King’s apocalyptic novels, but that just made her start to cry. Then I suggested she look at the bright side of things and she told me there was no bright side.

“The world is over,” she wailed, pulling at her T shirt. “No more Ben & Jerry’s.”

“Didn’t they break up anyhow?” I asked.

She glared at me. “You – you just don’t get it. All you do is sit there and act as if nothing’s wrong.”

“But we’re fine. There’s no sense panicking. Have some goldfish,” I suggested, handing her the snack bag.

“No! I don’t want canned goods or snacks. I don’t want to be stuck in here like this. I want things to just Shift back to where they were. I want my car. I want to wash my hair and use a blow dryer. I want to turn a light switch on and actually see light.”

I sighed. These endless lists were getting to me. “You think I don’t want those things?” I asked.

Sue Ellen shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“I do. But what is – is.”

In the distance we heard a noise for the first time in four days. It sounded like a truck. Sue Ellen pushed her head out of the door and the next thing I knew she was waving her arms around wildly. “We’re being rescued!” she said.

“By whom?” I asked. And, I thought, where are they going to take us?

“Men. I don’t know. Men in a truck. Let’s pack some of your things. We should have done this already. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have brought a bag too. Of course, they have a plan for us and we’re going to go somewhere that they have electricity and showers-“

“Ma’am?” a male voice outside said. “How many of you are there inside?”

“Two females,” Sue Ellen said, turning around and mouthing to me “He’s cute.” Then she asked “So where are you taking us? A shelter? A hotel?”

There was a short silence. “No, ma’am. We don’t have anything like that set up. We’re just taking a head count and seeing if anyone needs medical attention.”

“My friend here is in a wheelchair. She’s disabled. If anyone should be taken somewhere, it’s us.”

“Is she hurt?”

“No,” I said loudly, munching on a goldfish. “I’m fine. Are you hungry? I have some canned food.”

“No thanks, ma’am,” the voice said from outside the door. “We have to get going.”

“Don’t leave,” Sue Ellen said desperately.

“Ma’am, there’s nothing we can do right now. Just stay put. You have food and shelter which is more than most. Have a good day.“

Sue Ellen slammed the door. “A good day? How am I supposed to have a good day?”

And so it went for a few more days until the men came back and escorted her at my request back to her place. Slowly things were rebuilt . The infrastructure was repaired. The roads were fixed. The power was turned back on. Cell phones worked.
By then we all knew how many people had died, and most of the complaining faded away.

It’s all about perspective and relativity in the end. The way I see it, being alive and surviving counts for a lot if you’re going to start carrying on about your plight.

You just do the Hokey Pokey and that’s what it’s all about.

Copyright 2007 Ruth Harrigan