Buttered Bread

Spencer positions his wheelchair at the kitchen counter and leans slightly forward, bracing his forearms on the counter’s edge for stability. Using his wrist flexors, he paws the knife towards the edge of the counter, getting it just close enough that he can grasp it loosely in his slightly curled fingers. His fingers are unable to wrap around it, but he has enough control and strength in wrists to lift it. 

Even though most would have considered him an old hack at this, an intense look of concentration still breaks out across his face as he dips the knife into the butter and guides it to the bread. His arm moves in a sweeping motion, his shoulder and elbow clearly compensating for his lack of fine finger control. 

The butter clumps. The bread breaks  in the middle where the knife catches it wrong. It takes some time, but eventually the bread is buttered – not perfectly, but satisfactorily. 

With a satisfied nod, he glances around the kitchen, already thinking through his next move. He leans over, hooking one arm behind the small black push handle attached to his chair’s backrest for some added stability, then grabs a lightweight plastic plate in the dishrack. It looks like something made for a child, but it’s more practical than traditional – and heavy – ceramic dishes. Using the back of his hand and wrist, Spencer manages to slide the plate closer to the bread. With a practiced motion, he uses the knife to carefully push the slice of bread onto the plate. It doesn’t land perfectly centered, but it’s on the plate and he’s fairly confident it’s secure enough for transport. 

He backs his wheelchair away from the counter, creating space to maneuver. Without finger dexterity, he can’t grip the plate’s edges, so he grabs it with the heels of his hands and moves it carefully to his lap, then turns towards the living room where his roommates are watching TV.