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Home / Stories / Personal Histories / Other's Stories / Trial by Fire - Day III

Trial by Fire - Day III

Written by Claire on Monday, December 11, 2006

The following story recounts the events of my third and final day of my 3-day pretending trip. It’s the continuation of Day I and Day II.

This morning I returned to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. If you remember from Day II, the restaurant has one accessible table right behind the hostess’ desk, and the rest of the restaurant is only accessible via a step up. There was already someone sitting at "my" table, not impaired. They asked me if I could get up the step, and I said no, and they asked if they could help me up the step, and I again said no. So, they wanted to seat me with the person who was already occupying the table, but I didn’t want to. Finally they asked me if it was OK to sit me in the conference room right next to the restaurant, and I said OK, and it was actually nice in there because they had a fire going in the 2-way fireplace. However, my Internet connection didn’t work there, and I had some emailing to do, so I apologized profusely and asked if I could, indeed, sit at the other table after all. So they moved me, and the person sitting there turned out to be an employee, who was up early and just came in to chat with a friend. She showed me pictures of babies that she was looking at (someone’s grandkids, not hers) and we chatted a bit, and she was nice. She didn’t stay long though, and left me in peace.

I am a very shy person and I don’t really enjoy being forced to chat with strangers (I’m HORRIBLE at parties where I don’t know everyone), and it is too early to say for sure, because I haven’t been out much yet, but I think it’s easier in the chair, assuming they don’t have a problem with the chair.

Do these people want our business or not?

The entire time that I was at this hotel, there was no water, because of a broken water main. That morning I didn’t get to shower, even though at this hotel, the shower was indeed accessible (go figure!). So I went to the hairdressers to get my hair washed. As I was wheeling up to the door, a little old lady who was waiting to get her hair cut hurried over and opened the door for me. I encountered a big change in level going in, about 2" high, but I was so distracted by this lady, who was totally in my way so that I couldn’t get by her as she was trying to be helpful holding the door, that I didn’t see the change in level and my casters banged into it. I came to a screeching halt. Another little old lady sitting in the waiting room was watching this, and she said, voice dripping with pity, "Oh, you can’t get in!" I simply popped a little wheelie to get in the door, and she exclaimed "WOW!! Good for you!!" I looked at her rather incredulously, but she was oblivious. The two little old ladies launched into absolute raptures about wheelchair athletes and all the wonderful things they can do, "I don’t know how they do it…they’re so inspirational…they can do so much in those wheelchairs…" I smiled tolerantly but didn’t say much. What was there to say? I negotiated a 2" change in level. I was at a loss to see how this was such a big triumph, or what that could possibly have to do with wheelchair athletes.

The hairdresser, seeming to understand my discomfort, interrupted this tyrade with a businesslike "how can I help you" for which I was grateful, for now I could ignore the little old ladies. I explained I just wanted my hair washed, and she told me that she could take me right away. She took me back to wash my hair and I transferred into the chair that leans back into the sink for washing hair. This was my first real public transfer, and although I always thought I’d be embarrassed when it came to that, I found that I didn’t care in the least, I just did what I needed to do. I appreciated that the hairdresser didn’t ask if I needed help, or assume that I couldn’t sit in the chair, she just took me back there and waited for me to do whatever I was going to do. She washed my hair, and then I transferred back to my wheelchair, and transferred again into her barber’s chair to dry my hair. She asked me if it was OK to push my chair away a bit, out of the way. I said "Sure, as long as you give it back!" She laughed a little. I then found out that she had taken me before one of her clients, who would now have to wait. I wasn’t happy with that, it wasn’t fair. She said "Oh, she won’t mind waiting." But I didn’t think me being in a wheelchair was a very good excuse for taking clients out of turn. She told me I should get my nails done, and I pointed out that my wheels are death on nails. She said "Oh I didn’t’ think of that!" But to tell you the truth, I didn’t think of that either until that very moment! On my way out, the hairdresser held the door open for me, which was a good thing because I had to pop a wheelie to get back down the change in level, and don’t think I could have done that and hold the door open for myself at the same time. Sometimes you DO need help, actually. Still, I wish they’d wait to see if I’m stuck, or wait till I ask.

Next, I returned to Carco to get air in my tires. On my way in, a girl saw me coming from across the parking lot and stood there holding the door open the whole time I traversed the parking area and crossed the street, and wheeled up to the door. I said thanks, and her bright, overly-cheery reply was: "At least you can still drive!!!" This totally threw me for a loop and I had no idea how to reply to such an asinine comment. I just smiled. She told me her mother had MS, and was unable to walk for 7 years, and had to stop driving, but last year she had a stroke, and can walk now for some reason. I told her that’s great, how nice. But I was wondering (as my brain was in "para" mode) do I really want to know that someone who couldn’t walk can now walk? That IS great, but is that the kind of thing you should tell a perfect stranger in a wheelchair?

I wheeled up to the service counter to ask them if they could put a shot of air in my tires. The guy said probably, but I couldn’t go through the garage, I would have to go out the back door and meet them around the front, by the employee entrance. So I went out the back door, to the employee entrance, which featured a step up. A guy was out there smoking, and asked if I needed help. I said that I was supposed to go in through this door, but pointed out the step. He said "Oh, you can’t get up that, riiiight!" like it was a revelation. I suppose it was, to him. No worries though, a minute later a young guy opened the big garage door next to us and just brought the hose to the air compressor to where I was. He was one of those people who are just nice without being weird or uncomfortable. He put air in my tires, just doing his job in a friendly way, but it took him a while to get it right, because he was really afraid of blowing out my tire as I told him to be careful, I’d be SOL without wheels. He finally got it to the right PSI, but not before WAY overinflating it once and then very hurriedly letting the air back out. I asked if I owed him anything…nope. I said thanks, he said "Have a nice day," and that was it.

Some people just seem to naturally be OK, some people just seem to naturally be weird. I guess it’s like anything, they’re probably born with it, or learned it, and can’t help it, and just do the best they can.

With my tires finally up to the right PSI, my chair felt great. Before I left Carco, I picked up a small tire repair kit. I had checked out at Carco the evening before with no problems other than the ATM swiper being too high. So this time I got in the checkout line, and people got in behind me, and when it was my turn to pay I wheeled forward, got about adjacent to the registers, but no further: my wheels didn’t fit. The guy who had just checked out before me remarked "You’re stuck!" and I agreed with him. So I paid for my purchase, and then the people who were behind me had to all back up so that I could get out. I went to the line that I knew I could get through, but there were people in that line too, so I just had to wait in line until I got to the cashier. I waved my Carco bag at her and said "I already paid, I just got stuck at the other register" and she let me let me though. What a pain in the ass, and rather embarassing!

As I was getting into my car, an older man approached me and offered to help. I said no thanks. He responded "Are you sure, I’m happy to help". I repeated "No," smiling, "I have a system," I assured him. He answered "I’m ready to help!" I again said no thanks, politely, smiling, but firmly. He walked away.

I had to tell the guy "no thanks" three times!! What part of no don’t you understand?? Plus I’m thinking, CLEARLY I am alone. If I am driving around alone, CLEARLY I can get into and out of the fucking car by myself. People are so fucking weird!!!!!! I confess I was a little pissed off.

Next, I went to a small local shopping center. I noted that all 4 parking spots were taken by people with no stickers. Well, I didn’t have a sticker either, and on this trip I didn’t once parke in a disabled parking spot, but I did notice. I took my first elevator ride as a wheelchair user, with another wheelchair user (who, unfortunately, I couldn’t interact with as it was a very seriously mentally disabled young adult with an attendant). That was uneventful, and I went to the bathroom, and had to wait as someone came out of the wheelchair stall (both other stalls are empty). She told me that the toilet didn’t flush, as if I shouldn’t go into that stall. I had to point out that I had no choice but to use that stall, because I couldn’t get into the other stalls. On way back up the elevator, which is very small, there were three people, plus me and the other wheelchair user (same one as before) who was behind me. It would take two to three trips for all these people. The first guy in line noticed us and decided he could take the stairs, and he left. I fit in with the two walkers, and the other wheelchair user had to take the next ride. On my way out of the mall, I wheeled by a lady who backed up, not looking where she was going, and I had to swerve sharply to avoid her. I told her "I almost ran into you!" and she answered "You need a horn!" like it was my fault, instead of hers for backing up with out looking. Like I’m going to wheel around honking a horn! But she was friendly. It’s just weird the things people think to say.

It’s funny, sometimes I appreciated the acknowledgement that I was in a wheelchair, and sometimes I didn’t. I guess it depended on the circumstances, and what was said, and the manner in which it was said. I also guess that there is no point in being over-sensitive about it.

I finally found that I was getting tired so I went back to the hotel to relax a bit, then pack. I was very sad my trip was ending. The parking lot is far from the hotel entrance, so this time, in order to save myself an extra trip later, I just parked the car by the lobby entrance. I was mightily tired of the parking rigmarole, and even if I had a parking sticker, there simply IS NO disabled parking anyway. So I parked the car there, and an employee walked by as I was getting into my chair (it was completely put together, all I needed to do is transfer into it). He asked if he could help with anything. I said "I’m all set, thanks." He answered "OK," but stood there watching me transfer, which made me uncomfortable. I don’t know if he was watching out of curiosity or if he thought I was going to fall or something. Or maybe he was a devotee! I told him I was leaving the car there for a while, and he said that was fine. In the lobby, I also told the receptionist that I was leaving the car there for about an hour, and she said that there would be no problem, she would make sure the car wouldn’t get towed.

Checking out was no big deal, until I asked the receptionist for help with my luggage. She readily agreed, but at that point, there were two new hotel guests waiting to check in, two men who looked like they were in their 70s. They said enthusiastically "Oh, we’ll get your bags, where are they??" I answered that they’re in my room which is locked, and the receptionist would go get them, because she had the key, but thanks anyway. The receptionist left the desk and headed towards my room while I waited by the desk. My room was nearby and I could see the door to the room from where I was sitting. As she walked down the hall, these two guys followed her, totally disregarding what I had just said. I wondered what they hell they were doing. They entered the room with her and one came out with my suitcase, the other with my backpack. The receptionist returned empty-handed, except for the key. The manager walked by and asked me "What’s going on?" apparently wondering why the receptionist wasn’t helping me. I said I didn’t know, those guys went to get my bags after the receiptionist said that she would do it. As they approached, I joked, "Well, since you’re not employees, I don’t know whether to tip you or not!" They completely ignored this and actually talked right over me, interrupting me as I was speaking, saying "Now, where are you parked?" very briskly and businesslike. I was pissed off at this point. I took them to the car, wheeling very fast ahead of them so that I could open the door myself and they wouldn’t insist on opening the door, and they followed me, and put the stuff in the back of my minivan. One of them looked down at me and asked "Now, are you sure that’s all you have?" as if I were a child. Mentally griding my teeth, I answered with a cheery, fake smile, "Yes, I’m sure, thanks." I reached up to grab the strap to close the hatchback, and pulled down to close it, but apparently I wasn’t to be allowed to close the door by myself, because one of the guys reached up and gave it a shove to close it.

I wonder, what is the point of going to such trouble to help someone you don’t even listen to when they speak? They seem to mean well, but were patronizing and insulting. I imagine that for them, it’s more about feeling good about themselves that they’re helping the poor lady in the wheelchair, than it is about the lady in the wheelchair. Full-time wheelchair users must encounter this bullshit daily. I wonder what stupid things I’ve said and done to wheelchair users in the past. I wonder what stupid thing I will say or do in the future, when I’m walking and encounter a wheelchair user. I wonder what wheelchair experiences are still waiting for me, on some future trip. How long until I’ve seen it all? Or is there always more, even after years and years?

And I wonder if there is a different dynamic just because I’m a woman, alone, in a chair. As opposed to a woman accompanied in a chair, or a man alone in a chair.

I made one last stop before the end of my trip, and that was to eat at a nice restaurant for lunch. The waitress was nice, but she kept bending over at the waist to put her head level with mine. It was disconcerting. I watched her with the other patrons of the restaurant. They were also seated, at the same level as me, but it seemed she only felt the need to bend over with me. I wheeled to the bathroom, entered, and there was a lady standing there washing her hands. She was’t anywhere near me, not anywhere near in my way. "Oh! Sorry!" she exclaimed. I responded "That’s OK," more out of reflex than anything, but WTF was she really sorry for? What thought process was happening to prompt her to apologize for nothing?

As I began the drive home I reflected on how it was all over. I wondered how my life had changed. I wondered how I was going to go home and step out of the car, and walk away.

Negotiating doors

I stopped at my half-way point for gas and a potty break in Frederickville. I pulled up to the pump, leaving enough room between the pump and the car so that I could get my chair out. A lady came out to pump my gas, while I was still getting the chair together. She told me "So you’re ready for that marathon, eh?" I drew a blank, having no earthly idea what she was talking about. It took me a few seconds to realize that she was making some kind of lame joke, maybe thinking about wheelers she’d seen in marathons on TV. At this point, I was about as physically exhausted as I’d ever been in my life, and I had never felt less ready for a marathon. I gave a short bark of deeply ironic laughter. "Well," I responded "I don’t know about that!" She watched me put the chair together and remarked "You’ve got that down to a science." One good trite expression deserves another; "Practice makes perfect," I answered, transferring into my chair. "That’s what my nephew says…" she said, and continued to tell me all about her 18 year old nephew that was paralyzed from the waist down a year or so ago. "They had him down in Atlanta for oh, 4, 5 months." she said. "In rehab," I nodded knowingly (as if I knew!!). "YES! In rehab, that’s it." Now he’s on his own, living in his own apartment, driving his own car, an amazing achievement.

I just wanted to go to the bathroom, not hear about this kid who’s just managing to live his own life, after all. When she mentioned his car she peered into mine, looking for hand controls I guess, and looked surprised that there were none. I told her I can stand a little bit (a slight understatement). At that point I’d had enough and told her I was going in. I made it through the door on my own this time, change of level and everything, and remembered how much trouble I had with it 48 hours ago. I had come a long way already. No problems getting back out the door, either. I got back in my car, with a pang of regret as I pulled the chair back into the car, that this was my last moment out in my chair. The next time I got out, it would be on two feet.

As I was driving home, for some reason I was in an excellent mood. Yes, I was leaving the chair behind, and from now on it would be relegated to my office again, but there will be another time, one of these days, where I can go, and be myself, for a day, or two.

Tags: Wheelchair, Pretender, Pretending, Wannabe, Transabled, BIID, Paraplegic

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