Most of the Vegas TRs in this forum are of an upbeat nature. However, this one is not. Before we begin, a little background info - For the past several years, I have accompanied a wheelchair-bound man to Vegas. Once a year, usually in the summer, we do Vegas up and rollicking good times are had. Even with his disability (basically he can use one arm), my friend had been able to experience Vegas to the fullest. We're talking 6-hour sessions at the Olympic Gardens, solicitation of casino hookers (that one didn't turn out to well), use of a girl from the phone number on a porn slapper card, tons of blackjack playing, taking the CAT by himself, seeing shows, etc. On many of the trips, he would even mock himself by wearing a non-PC shirt that said "Show the Cripple some Nipple". People would look at him and burst out laughing. In the small town we live in, he began to earn a reputation as Mr. Vegas, a title that made him proud. He's had a tough 2010, losing his job to the economic downturn, his house to foreclosure and had to terminate his caregiver for personal reasons. Additionally, living one's entire life in a wheelchair will age a person. He has learned his 45-year old body is beginning to shut down. After such a bad year, we decided to go to Vegas in February instead of waiting until summer. My friend was in desperate need of an uplifting experience and Vegas always had delivered in the past. This time, though, it was a different story. We arrived Sunday (Feb 27) and took the 108 to the Hilton and checked into a Classic room for the casino rate of $139 total for four nites. It was a larger than the standard rooms, with one of the softest bed I've ever slept on. Unfortunately, my friend was not able to enjoy his bed as much as me. At 1:00 am he woke me to say he was in pain and needed to be moved to a different position. I adjusted him and he lasted a couple more hours until the aches in his joints and pain from bed sores were too much. To relieve his pain, I put him back in his wheelchair for the rest of the night. I almost felt guilty going back to sleep in the comfortable bed while he tried to sleep in his motorized wheelchair. That was how it went each evening, he would try to sleep an hour or two, but the pain became too much that he just gave up and stayed in the wheelchair the rest of the time. If it beacme too unbearable, he would head down to casino and play blackjack Another problem was that he lost most of the muscle tone in his legs and had difficulty standing up while I moved him from bed to chair and vice versa. Previously, he was at least able to stand on his own feet, but now it was like lifting 200 pounds of dead weight. So as not to get too graphic, I will leave out any discussion of difficulties with bodily functions. But, to suffice to say, it was a chore. Since his finances were limited, all sex-related endeavours were out of the question. He did bring $1,200 to gamble on, but lost it all by Wednesday night. With how bad his health was, he wasn't all that concerned with going through his bank roll. It was almost like he has given up on life. Probably, the saddest moment came at the Wynn casino. After coming out from the buffet, he wheeled over to where the hallway overlooks the pool entrance and starting crying. I took me a second and then I realized what he was crying about. Unless something miraculous happens healthwise, he would never be able to belly up to the outdoor table games at the pool. He loved to sit there playing the green chips, watching the scenery and soaking up the warmth and sun. The pit bosses and dealers treated him like a king, something he craved. He was somebody at the Wynn and now that was being taken away. A regular person would have a hard time understanding my friend's excitement over entering the Wynn pool area and making the walk to the table games. There was a sense of triumph to it and certainly one of the high points of his life. The tables game weren't due to open for a couple more weeks and my friend knew how critical time can be, as his day are most likely numbered, as well. With the emotional state my friend was in, he asked that I give his final regards to his favorite Wynn dealer, Cyndy. He wanted to do it, but knew he would break down in front of her and the patrons at her BJ table. Again, he knew he would never see her again and it hurt. As much as we tried to make this trip like all the others, we couldn't. The magic was gone. Sure, it was great to get away from what had been troubling him back on the home front, but Vegas could no longer provide the relief he was looking for. The glitz and glitter of the casinos were no match for the despondency he was feeling.