Home / Thoughts / Other's Thoughts / Elisabeth's thoughts / Less Than 24 Hours
Less Than 24 Hours
Written by Elisabeth on Sunday, February 7, 2010
My ups and downs as a wheelchair user. Within less than 24 hours, I can do something good because of using a wheelchair and I can be a total bitch because I am a frustrated wheelchair user. Using a wheelchair makes me alive again, makes me feel a whole range of emotions again.
When I talked to my priest about BIID, he was concerned about only one thing - had I have to help somebody and needed to get out of my chair because of it, would I do it? I would, I told him. After all, I use my chair for BIID, not for paraplegia. Didn’t think it would take just ten days to find out if I really would.
5:40 PM
I go to church in a mall and there is this old lady dragging a shopping bag behind her. I ask her if she needs help and offer to carry her bag. She looks so tired. Another lady on her way to church stops and offers her arm. And thus we walk toward the other end of the mall where the lady parked her car. After maybe five minutes of a very slow progress (and it was agonising for me to wheel so slow), it finally dawns on me: "Would you like to use my wheelchair? I can walk." The lady accepts and lets me push her. She is really spent. We take her to the car. Hopefully she makes it home safe.
Would you do the same thing? Would you let her use your wheelchair? It’s your decision. I don’t think there is right or wrong answer there. As for me, she needed it more than I did. She could hardly stand and even less walk. I was glad I was able to help. I was glad I didn’t really care what the other church going lady was thinking. She never asked me afterward either.
9:20 PM
Going to Walmart. I really don’t like Walmart but it’s a fun place to wheel, it is so big. And my fire-bellied toads need a new water filter. Walmart has them cheapest. Then I decide I might grab a few things for Lasagna. Pasta and Ricotta cheese. In USA, wheelchair users are presumed to hate Lasagna. Those two things are always on the highest shelf. I ask a couple people for help. My Ricotta man is slightly patronising. When I go for a checkout, there is a young girl in a wheelchair waiting in the next lane. With her family. No, no socialising for me now. I wait in my lane, sitting in a wheelie. My back hurts. My chiropractor is on vacation. Before I leave, I glance in the direction of the family. No return of my smile.
I am writing a website - a travel website about a town where I live. Written from a wheelchair, for wheelchair user (mothers with strollers might find it helpful too). I go to different places of interests, make sure about the doors, bathrooms, floors etc, reviewing the accessibility of the place. And how interesting the place is. Had to write a review about a carpet from hell. You know, the carpet that is so soft (in this case not because the carpet is too high but because of a very thick and soft pad beneath it) that you need to do wheelies to get around. The carpet from hell is on a ground floor of a museum. The second floor is fine, with hard, low pile carpet there.
8:54 AM
I go for a weekly breakfast with one of my friends, right across from that museum. And the owner of the museum was having a quiet breakfast in our coffee shop. Until I showed up. "Opportunity," my brain screams. So I start to talk to the gentleman. Talk about the carpet. Suggest that if he ever replaces the carpet upstairs, to keep accessibility in mind. He asks me if I was wheelchair-bound. "No, I use a wheelchair," is my answer. He shares with me that sometimes he uses a manual wheelchair. Hope he will accept my suggestion to try it in his museum. He is intending to put wooden floor upstairs. Great.
4:15 PM
Going to the library with my kids. Need to return DVDs and got to pick up my hold - Wire in the Blood, series six. Oh, I love Robson Green! My youngest fell asleep in the car and wants to ride in my lap. We do that often. But the curb is too steep with 35 extra pounds in my lap and I can’t make it. I take him off my lap so I can get up. A man is watching my drama and offers help. "No, thank you." Yet, he runs over to me ("No, I don’t need your help," I repeat) and tries to grab my wheelchair. I lose it. I am so damn tired of people trying to help when I don’t need it. "Do Not Touch My Wheelchair!!!" I say very slowly, in a deep voice. He backs off. Oh merde! Not a good way to present wheelchair user. Need to learn to control my temper.
Tags: BIID, Wheelchair
This entry appears in Elisabeth's thoughts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.
6 Comments
“Do Not Touch My Wheelchair!!!”
Sometimes the “helper”-wannabe needs to be told in no uncertain terms, so that they might think next time. However, people who need to be told that way probably are the people who won’t see themselves in your message.
On the other side, probably the wheeler needs to say it that way, at least once, to start down the road of controlling the attitude with “patience and compassion”.
3 On 7 February, 2010, Sean said:
There are times when being abrupt and “in your face” is the ONLY way to get people to respond. What people need to understand is that if they touch you, or your wheelchair, without your consent, it is legally *assault*.
I generally ask them nicely not to touch me. If they persevere, I ask again, in a tone that should indicate I mean it. The 3rd time, I say “if you touch me, I will hit you”, in a tone that leaves no doubt about how serious I am. I only have had to hit someone once :)
Then there are those who come behind me without warning and start pushing. My chair is finely balanced. When I’m unexpectedly pushed from behind, my arms flail to help me gain balance. That is how I discovered that my elbows are usualy at just the right height to hit people in the crotch…
Let’s not forget that being nice is indeed important. But that people with disabilities aren’t always nice and meek and shouldn’t always just sit there and take it.
Just be yourself.
The only times I’ve allowed someone to push is getting in and out of taxis - the ones with the steep ramps at the back. As you say Sean, when you’re finely balanced and someone you haven’t seen graps hold of you from behind, it’s extremely frightening and that’s when I shout very loudly out of fear.
Yes! Suddenly and abruptly “helped” is a bit offensive to me, too! I was waiting in a long line at a drug store once and they decided to open another checkout line. I was in my chair wearing a leather motorcycle jacket. The guy behind me was a biker- when he noticed the open checkout I was immediately abducted from my place in line by this guy to be the first in line in the newly opened one. “You’re comin’ with me!” he said! Caught me completely by surprise- I really didn’t know what to think of it at the time.
This kid might empathize:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mdNpizwXdT8
Post your comments
© transabled.org - 1994-2010 - All Rights Reserved.
1 On 7 February, 2010, Chloe said:
That’s an interesting situation where you come across someone who needs your wheelchair more than you do. At this point I would not have a problem with letting somebody use my chair. What makes the difference for me is that I’m always wearing a left leg brace. This makes it psychologically easier for me to get out of the chair.
My favorite cookies always seem to be on the highest shelf at grocery stores.
I’ve gradually become much better at being patient and compassionate towards people who don’t have a clue how to behave around a wheelchair user. If you keep consciously practicing it eventually becomes habit.