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Home / Thoughts / Other's Thoughts / Chloe's Thoughts / To the Knacker’s Yard

To the Knacker’s Yard

Written by Chloe on Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Sean told me I had purchased a "granny" chair. Yeah, alright, but it was cheap. The problem is, I’m not a granny, and I don’t behave like one with or without a wheelchair.

The chair that went to the knacker’s yard

I’ve done some wheeling on rocky dirt surfaces. I don’t think my chair was designed for this. I think it was designed for grannies. Not long after I started doing a lot of wheeling, a crack developed in one of the wheels. At first I thought it would hold, but the crack gradually got bigger and bigger until it was most of the way through the rim. I was starting to have visions of being out in public and the wheel collapsing; I do have anxiety disorders after all.

I called up a local wheelchair dealer and set up an appointment. I really liked this guy. He had clearly been around a lot of people in wheelchairs. He treated me like it was perfectly normal to be in a wheelchair, nothing special at all. I truly appreciated that. I wish everyone was like that. I hate it when people make a fuss about me being in a wheelchair. It makes me cringe.

It turned out that my wheelchair was covered by warranty, so they would just send a replacement chair to the dealer. Then I could go back and swap.

I was eyeing some of the wheelchairs he had there, so I asked if I could take them on a test drive. I tried out a couple of TiLites. Yes, really nice, but $4000. Yikes!!!

I was very comfortable doing all those chair to chair transfers, being scrutinised by this guy. I felt compelled to explain that I was not a complete para though. I’m sure it was obvious. We had a nice discussion about how to do the transfers if I had been a complete para.

It put me in a really good mood to check out all these different wheelchairs. The guy was very helpful, showing me all the different kinds of brakes, tires, spokes, frames, footrests, etc, etc. I left, happily pondering what I might eventually get for my second wheelchair.

A couple of weeks later I got the call that the replacement chair had arrived. My partner asked me how I was feeling about this. She knew me well enough to figure out that I had an emotional attachment to my first chair. Surely I’m not the only person to feel this way?

The wheelchair dealer spent a good hour with me going over what my requirements would be for a rigid ultralight. He’ll get back to me with some prices. Then I transferred to the replacement chair. I told him about the nightmare I’d had about the cracked wheel completely breaking through and collapsing while I was in the chair. He took a good look at the wheel on the old chair, and said it looked as if my nightmare likely would have become reality pretty soon.

As I wheeled down the ramp back to my car I was feeling very happy. Mostly it was because of the way the wheelchair dealer had made me feel. I truly have a desire to be "normal". I know it sounds ridiculous; fat chance of being normal! Normal is overrated anyway; I know. But this guy made me feel normal; and I loved it.

I drove to work enjoying the new wheelchair smell in the car. It brought back fond memories. Then I started to have the pangs of guilt and sadness. I had abandoned my first wheelchair to it’s fate! It was as if I had learned to ride on my first horse. Now that horse was old and worn out; on it’s way to the knacker’s yard.

Tags: Normal, Transfers, Wheelchair

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