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Parking Permit
Written by Chloe on Wednesday, April 22, 2009
The first thing I did when I got my signed Physician Disability Certification form for a parking permit was to oogle it. Then I went to make photocopies. It is always tempting to frame documents of importance. Then I went straight to the DMV.
Day 1
In the DMV parking lot, as I was transferring to my wheelchair, the wind came up and blew a placard off my rear view mirror. It was the disabled parking permit from the convention I had attended last August. Sometimes the universe is a co-conspirator in one’s plans.
Everything went smoothly at the DMV. Finally those placards were right there in my hands. I savored the moment. What struck me was the word “Permanent” in big letters. Yes, that sunk in. This is permanent. It’s not going to go away. I just took one more irreversible step down this path.
I hung one of the placards on my rear view mirror, leaving the convention permit on the passenger seat where the wind had blown it. I had a funny physical feeling deep inside. Ah yes, it was the arousal that Ada had talked about (I’m aroused!). This was just as good as the day I acquired my first wheelchair. Now it’s official. I am officially disabled.
My physician knew very well that it is a real problem for me to wheel long and hard on account of fibromyalgia. I started to ponder if my actual physical disability had been a factor in causing her no hesitation in enabling me to be officially disabled. No matter how I got here, I AM here. I have crossed over.
When I got home I was excited to show my partner the placard. She was very empathetic and supportive. She knew what a big deal this was to me. A little while later, when I was at the computer, she brought me a glass of wine and looked into my eyes. She said she had been looking at the placard, which I had left on the dining table. It had affected her a lot. It was the word “Permanent”. She said she really understood now; more than she had before. She understands that I AM permanently disabled. I cry as I write this. It goes deep.
Day 2
Now there’s a different issue. Where am I actually going to park? It’s one thing to get the comfort and validation of the placard in full view as one drives. The next question is whether one is really going to use the parking spaces to which one is now legally entitled. It is a problem that has been vexing me for quite a while in anticipation of this day, which I knew would come sooner or later. Is one morally entitled?
So far, I have not done anything in presenting as a PWD that would take something away from any other PWD. But what if I took a parking spot that was needed by someone else? If their need was greater than mine I would be greatly bothered by my action. It’s not that I consider my need to be zero. The psychological need to wheel and present as a PWD is genuine; and I have a genuine physical disability which limits the distances I can wheel. BUT, I don’t have a physical need to wheel. Maybe there are people with a placard who have less need of the parking spot than myself, but for sure there are people with more need.
Then there’s the problem of what PWDs think about us. It does make a difference to me. Sean has discussed the parking issue on the Disaboom website (link) and was villified for his position. I think Sean’s arguments are solid; but I also want the disability community to be on our side.
Well, one can philosophise forever. Time to just DO and trust one’s judgment:
My first assignment this morning was to go get my taxes done. There was a parking spot right in front of the tax office with the big wheelchair symbol. But this spot was exactly the same size as all the others. Moreover there was no curb cut anywhere to be seen. Apparently all that needs to be done in order to make a parking space accessible is to paint a wheelchair symbol on it. Cool! I didn’t know it was that simple. Since there was no disadvantage to me by parking in the neighboring space, that’s what I did.
Next I had to get up the curb. It was bigger than anything I’d successfully attempted, but it didn’t look that difficult. I popped a wheelie to get the casters up first. No problem. I thought that was going to be the difficult part. I was wrong. I just don’t have the muscle power in my arms. Two decades of not being able to do significant upper body exercise has taken a toll. A passing woman offered me help, which I accepted. I don’t like needing help, but I am grateful for it when I do. This is a good example of the distinction that Sean has pointed out, between an impairment and a disability. Had there been a curb cut it would have been trivially easy for me.
After two hours of excruciatingly boring tax crap I was done. The guy doing my taxes offered me help back to my car, but I declined. I figured that getting back down the curb would be a piece of cake. Wrong! I backed off the curb and the momentum carried me perilously close to bashing the back of my head yet again. However, I managed to hold the balance and all was well.
Now there was a car parked in the supposedly accessible spot next to mine. I hope that person enjoyed the wonderful privilege.
Next I went home, where my partner cooked us lunch. Delicious as always.
Then I had to go to my second appointment with an orthotist. There were plenty of nice accessible parking spots, and nobody was parked in any of them. So I took one (first time). It seemed very reasonable. I wasn’t depriving anybody of anything. Besides, there I was, wheeling to the orthotist with leg braces balanced on my lap. After I was done with the orthotist there was still nobody else parked in the accessible spots.
After the orthotist, I headed to work. You’d think that, since I work in a fair sized psychiatric hospital, there’d be plenty of accessible parking. But there isn’t. All of the spots are often taken. In any case I just use a crutch at work. Seemed like a regular parking spot would be the most reasonable option here. If I start wheeling to work I might rethink this; or maybe not. I’m rapidly learning not to overthink these situations ahead of time. It’s going to work best for me to make a rapid judgement in the moment.
On the way home I needed to stop at the grocery store. This seemed like the most comlex parking decision yet. I have reserved this one store for crutch use, since sometimes I need to go on the way home from work, and don’t have my chair in the car. But my chair WAS in the car so I had a choice of mobility mode, and I have been wheeling in that store once before. URGH! I hate HAVING a choice. I don’t WANT to have a choice. Wheeling is at its best when I am in a social situation that makes it impossible not to use the chair.
Another complexity of the grocery store was that a big storm had moved in and it was pouring with rain. There seemed a reasonable probabilty that others would be needing the accessible spots. I parked in a regular spot. I still had the choice of using the wheelchair though. But that choice would mean getting both myself and the wheelchair completely soaked while I did the transfer. I used a crutch. Urgh! I truly wish that I DIDN’T have the choice to do this.
As I walked into the store I noticed that ALL of the accessible parking was full anyway. It turned out that I didn’t have a choice about the parking after all. Guess it’s not MY fault that there is insufficient parking for PWDs. All the spots were still taken when I came out of the store. I got soaked putting all the groceries into the car with one hand.
Afterthoughts
I have had only one day of driving around with a disability parking permit, but I have already learnt a few things:
Firstly, I am just going to have to make the decision to “use” the permit on a case by case basis as circumstances arise.
Secondly, actually parking in one of these spaces is no big deal to me. As they say: it’s not about the parking.
What IS a big deal is having that placard hanging there before my eyes all the while I am driving. The psychological benefit is phenomenal. There’s that big wheelchair symbol; and right underneath in big letters is that word… “Permanent”. Doesn’t that just say it all.
Tags: Accessible, Crutch, Disability, Leg Braces, Orthotist, Parking, Partner, Permanent, Permit, Placard, PWD, Wheelchair
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8 Comments
That’s a good point, Becs. Most of the time my fibromyalgia is just background pain; but some days it’s completely incapacitating.
3 On 23 April, 2009, Claire said:
Here is the deal with my placard. Without it, I am a quivering mess of fear and anxiety…sooooooooo afraid of being “found out”. I mean, what wheelchair user doesn’t have a parking placard? With it I am much more calm and stable; it helps calm my anxiety. I have it for a legitimate issue as well, although to be honest, it was exaggerated, my doc gave it to me mostly for the anxiety described above. She wasn’t going to do it at first, but then when I made my self-injury attempt I think it scared her and she realized how mentally anguishing BIID can really be. I was grateful. (I did not do that just to get a parking placard BTW, that was the farthest thing from my mind at the time).
A year later, the validation from the parking permit is still wonderful. However, I did not predict that it would also be instrumental in causing the most intense anxiety episodes I’ve had in the last year.
The reason is that the permit is now in Alicia’s car rather than my own, which I wrecked. It is quite functional for me to drive her car since she works at home. However, when she is driving the car she takes the permit down. Although her ensemble of mental illnesses is as large as mine, it does not include OCD. Consequently the placard ends up in a random place: perhaps in the glove box, possibly underneath a bunch of other stuff; perhaps at the side of the driver’s or passenger seat; perhaps in the compartment of the respective doors; perhaps on the passenger seat, possibly underneath a bunch of other stuff; perhaps underneath one of seats; perhaps tossed onto the back seat, possibly underneath a bunch of other stuff…
Usually I don’t notice its absence until I’ve been driving for a few minutes. Then the anxiety hits and the frantic search begins. When I find it and hang it back up, calm is immediately restored. For me, it’s not about being “found out” as Claire mentions. It seems more to be playing the role of a security blanket. I don’t really understand how it comes to be something of such intense emotional significance.
A letter came in the mail today. It was from the “Utah State Tax Commission”. Shit! More tax bills I haven’t paid yet! I was wrong. On the inside it said “Invitation to Renew Parking Placard”. It hadn’t crossed my mind that it has already been two years! The process seems very simple, and does not require physician reauthorisation.
One thing that has changed in the last two years is that there are a lot more disability parking spaces at work. It’s a no brainer to use them.
The new placards arrived in the mail today. Not quite as exciting as first time around, but pleasing nonetheless; not because of the parking, but because of the emotional validation.
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1 On 22 April, 2009, Becs said:
Keep in mind that there aren’t necessarily absolute levels of disability. Someone with arthritis for example may not be able to take a single step on day but the next day be able to get around on crutches.