Why This Dad in a Wheelchair Bought a 3D Printer

Well, The Workshop didn’t stay clean for long.

Time to put something on the workbench.

And we’re starting with the thing that has pretty much taken over my free time lately.

3D printing.

I now walk around the house looking at perfectly functional objects and thinking, “Yeah, but I could probably make that better.”

This may have been a mistake.

A very fun mistake.

Possibly an expensive mistake, depending on how closely we’re tracking filament purchases.

It Started With a Simple Idea

The original idea was pretty simple. I was looking for something new that Jacob and I could learn together.

Neither of us knew much about 3D printing, which was actually part of the appeal. We could start from roughly the same place, figure things out, make some mistakes, and hopefully end up with a few cool things to show for it.

At least that was the plan.

Somewhere along the way, something unexpected happened.

I got hooked.

The more I researched 3D printing, the more fascinated I became by what these machines could actually do. This wasn’t just about downloading a little plastic figure from the internet and pressing Print. You could start with an idea, design something specifically for what you needed, and a few hours later hold a physical version of that idea in your hands.

That’s pretty incredible when you stop and think about it.

What began as something to explore together quickly developed into something I was doing on my own too. I started printing things, experimenting with designs, learning the software, and finding increasingly questionable reasons why another spool of filament was absolutely necessary.

Somewhere between “This could be fun” and comparing two nearly identical shades of navy because they were obviously completely different, I probably should have realized I was in trouble.

Then I Started Looking Around the House

This is where things may have gotten slightly out of control.

Once you own a 3D printer, you apparently stop looking at everyday objects like a normal person.

Instead of thinking, “I need to buy something for that,” my brain started going:

“I wonder if I could print something for that?”

Closet needs organizing? I could print something.

Need a better phone stand? I could print something.

Something on my wheelchair doesn’t quite work the way I want?

Hold on. Let me get my caliper.

A perfectly acceptable household object is no longer a perfectly acceptable household object.

It’s Version 1.0.

Suddenly, things I’d previously searched for online became design problems I might actually be able to solve myself.

Not every idea works. Trust me. Sometimes the first version is great. Sometimes version one teaches me exactly what version two shouldn’t look like. Occasionally, something comes off the printer and I stare at it wondering how something that looked so good on the computer went so terribly wrong in real life.

That’s usually followed by several minutes of staring at it as though the plastic owes me an explanation.

But that’s become part of the fun.

“Almost Works” Is a Familiar Problem

Living with cerebral palsy means I’ve spent a lifetime adapting to products designed around someone else’s idea of how a person is supposed to use them.

But there’s another part of my background that’s started sneaking into this hobby too.

I spent my career working in assistive technology.

For years, part of my job was looking at a person, a task, and a piece of technology and asking a pretty basic question: How do we make these work together?

Apparently retirement didn’t turn that part of my brain off.

It just gave it a 3D printer.

The difference is that I’m looking at the problem through a slightly different lens now.

In assistive technology, you’re often evaluating what’s already available and figuring out how it can help someone accomplish a task. Maybe you change the setup. Maybe you add another device. Maybe you adapt the way something is used.

3D printing adds another option I didn’t have sitting on my desk for most of my career.

What if the thing I need doesn’t exist yet?

That’s where this gets really interesting to me.

A lot of products almost work.

A handle is almost big enough. A control is almost easy enough to reach. Something would be perfect if it were just a little wider, taller, shorter, stronger, or positioned differently.

Usually, you adapt. Sometimes you ask somebody else to modify it. Sometimes you settle for “good enough.”

3D printing introduced another possibility:

Change the object.

If I need a holder positioned differently because I’m reaching for it from a wheelchair, I can design it that way. If something requires two hands and I need another way to accomplish the same task, maybe I can create one. If the organizer I need doesn’t exist in exactly the dimensions I want, I don’t necessarily have to settle for the closest thing I can find online.

I’m using some of the same problem-solving muscles I used professionally, except now I’m simultaneously the assistive technology guy, the person using the solution, and the guy attempting to design it.

That last guy is definitely the weak link in this operation.

But I’m learning.

And there’s something pretty satisfying about realizing that after all those years of helping people figure out how technology could adapt to them, I now have a tool that lets me take that idea one step further.

Sometimes I don’t have to find the right solution.

I can try to make it.

Notice I said try.

We’re still keeping expectations reasonable around here. Nobody from MIT is calling.

Yet.

I’m Learning as I Go

Before this series goes any further, I should probably make something clear.

I am not a 3D-printing expert.

Not even close.

There are people who have been doing this for years who understand engineering, materials, modeling, and printer mechanics at a level I probably never will.

I’m the guy who bought a 3D printer, became fascinated by it, and started learning.

I’ve printed things backward. I’ve measured the wrong dimension. I’ve designed things that looked fantastic on my screen and ridiculous once they were sitting on my desk.

I’ve also learned that a digital caliper is only an extremely accurate measuring tool if the person holding it knows exactly what he’s supposed to be measuring.

That was an important day.

I’ve become strangely invested in watching a perfect first layer go down too.

If you know, you know.

That’s one reason I want to write about this now instead of waiting until I can pretend I know everything. There are plenty of experts online who can teach advanced 3D printing.

That’s not what this series is.

This is what it’s like to discover it, including the occasional moment when you realize the printer followed your instructions perfectly.

Unfortunately, your instructions were stupid.

Then Came the Baseball Chain

One of my favorite projects so far isn’t an accessibility device or something for our house.

It’s a gigantic baseball medallion.

Last season, a local baseball team celebrated home runs and great defensive plays with one of those enormous costume chains that have become popular in sports.

Naturally, I looked at it and thought:

“That needs a medallion.”

Because apparently this is who I am now.

So, for the new season, I designed and printed a giant custom medallion specifically for the team.

The medallion is ready for its debut, and I’m looking forward to seeing the first player make a great play, come back to the dugout, and have that ridiculous oversized chain dropped around his neck with something I designed hanging from it.

Hopefully, that medallion gets worn a lot this season.

If it doesn’t, we have much bigger problems than my 3D-printing skills.

There’s something pretty cool about knowing that an idea that started on my computer is about to become part of a team tradition.

Sometimes 3D printing solves a problem. Sometimes it makes something more accessible. Sometimes it helps organize a closet.

And sometimes it just makes a group of teenagers feel like major leaguers for a few seconds.

All of those count.

It’s Not Really About the Plastic

I think that’s ultimately what has surprised me most.

The thing that’s hooked me isn’t really the printer or even the plastic coming out of it.

It’s the ability to go from “I wish…” to “What if…” and eventually to “I made this.”

There’s a tremendous amount of freedom in that.

I’ve spent plenty of my life figuring out how to adapt myself to the world around me. There’s something particularly satisfying about having a tool that occasionally lets me turn that equation around and adapt the world around me instead.

And sometimes I just want to print something because it’s cool.

That’s allowed too.

Not everything needs a profound reason. Sometimes a giant baseball medallion is just a giant baseball medallion.

Sometimes an organizer is just an organizer.

And sometimes I spend six hours designing something that probably could have been purchased for $8.99.

We don’t need to discuss those projects.

This Rabbit Hole Is Just Getting Started

This is Part One of a four-part series about my jump into 3D printing.

Today was the why.

Later, I’ll show you some of the things I’ve designed and printed, from practical solutions to projects that exist mostly because I wanted to see if I could make them.

There may even be a few that started with the famous last words:

“This should be easy.”

We’ll also get into the bigger question I’ve started thinking about as I’ve gone deeper into this hobby: what could 3D printing mean for accessibility when people can create solutions around their individual needs instead of waiting for someone else to make them?

That’s where my old assistive technology brain and my new 3D-printing brain really start getting into trouble together.

But first, we need to talk about the machine sitting in the middle of this whole adventure.

Coming Next: My Bambu Lab P2S Review

My printer is a Bambu Lab P2S.

In Part Two, I’m going to review it from two perspectives.

First, I’m taking cerebral palsy completely out of the equation and asking the same questions any first-time buyer might ask.

Is it easy to use? How good are the prints? How well does multicolor printing work? Is the software good? Is it reliable? And ultimately, is it worth the money?

Then I’m putting cerebral palsy back into the equation.

Because there’s another question I couldn’t find nearly enough information about when I was shopping for a printer:

How accessible is the printer itself?

What’s it like to operate from a wheelchair? How much dexterity does it require? What can I do independently, where do I need help, and what could Bambu Lab do differently to make it easier for more people to use?

I’m not approaching that review as an engineer or a professional maker.

That would require qualifications I very definitely do not have.

I’m approaching it as the guy who actually bought one and uses it.

A husband. A dad. A guy living with cerebral palsy. A retired assistive technology guy who apparently wasn’t quite finished thinking about assistive technology.

And apparently now…

a guy with a 3D printer.

We’ll put the P2S on the workbench next.

Assuming I haven’t found twelve more things around the house to print first.