My guess is that, no, you probably haven’t. It’s really quite a fun and exhilarating experience so I thought I’d give you a factual account of what you’re missing. Any profanities are strictly necessary.
Having a sweaty bum and back for the entire time between April and November. For me this was especially awful this year as I was heavily pregnant. And being hot, pregnant and in a wheelchair brings a special kind of under-belly sweat that I bet you’re all jealous of. But being seated in a black chair constructed from man-made fabrics, nylon and sponge and not being to stand up and cool your butt down is just hideous.
People leaning on your wheelchair. There are only certain people to whom I have given special permission to lean on my chair if they feel they need to for any unforeseen circumstantial laziness. The rest of you, use your glutes. Seriously, you have plentiful bum, leg and core muscles which I’m quite sure have many uses, one of these being holding you in an appropriate standing position. Magical!. Use ’em or lose ’em. And while you’re at it, stop moaning about having to walk somewhere or go for a run to keep fit, you don’t know how good you have it.
I have eyes, ears and a brain. If I am unknowingly in your way, ask me politely to shift. It is never necessary or helpful to move a wheelchair-user who is a complete stranger, out of the way for your own convenience. This actually happened to me in a supermarket – an elderly man saw it as his job to move me slightly to the left so he could get to something on the shelf that he couldn’t reach. Probably denture glue. But I was actually quite stunned, as was my partner who then looked at this gentleman with utter amazement. Would he go up and lift someone’s leg to get them to step out of the way? I doubt it.
The numb bum. Always a numb bum. (There’s a theme to this post isn’t there?!) You’d think after years of using a wheelchair I’d be used to it. However, each and every day I get an achey numb bum and have the urge to stand up and stretch my legs. But I’d have to quickly get back into my chair incase people thought I had been faking it all this time. Maybe it’s because I used to be able to walk albeit in an quirky fashion, so I know what I’m missing, but it never goes away. I can’t wait to get on the sofa at the end of the day to lay back and be in a position that isn’t a right-angle. Being sat down all the time also brings great joy when it’s raining outside (or inside). Your thighs face up to the sky and get drenched very quickly. A raincoat serves little purpose here..
No, we’re not all paralysed. Not everyone who cannot walk and uses a wheelchair is paralysed. Use your imagination for f*ck’s sake. Maybe my legs have been taken for use by aliens who move around their own universe using stolen human limbs and replacing them with useless, but very life-like, dummy legs. The aliens have immobilised me for their own benefit. Consider this a cry for help.
We weren’t all in a tragic accident causing us to lose the use of our legs. See above. Some people have experienced this kind of heartbreaking occurrence though, and I’m pretty sure some of the following applies to these people too. The question asked most often with the accompanying tilty-head of doom is “Oh, how did it happen? You poor thing! You cope so well though!” Oh crap. Do they want a biological breakdown of the faults in my Mitofusin 2 gene and how it has affected me my whole life, gradually taking my movement and independence, or will the simple answer “I have a muscle wasting disease” suffice?
Disease!? Hark! This girl is DISEASED! Step away immediately, we might catch it!
The jokes about women drivers and being in charge of an electric or even my manual wheelchair, never get old. In fact I’ve not heard enough of them. Please say more things like this so I can legitimately punch you in the face.
Last time I checked (which was never) wheelchair users did not feature on the list of banned or dangerous dogs. If you see one of ‘our type’ coming down the same side of the street as you and your little darlings, there is no need to yank your child out of the way, almost dislocating their shoulder in the process. I don’t bite children. They taste like snot and poo, and I live with three of them so really I’m ok with just rolling past you in a completely nonthreatening manner. But you’ve just made your kid scared of wheelchairs and people in them. Round of applause to you.
Shopping and general wheelchair access woes. We’re in the 21st century with 3d printing and robots and cars that drive and park themselves. But we can’t work out how to make pretty much everywhere accessible to wheelchairs and have facilities for people who need them because of a disability. It won’t be cheap, but most things that are vital for disabled people aren’t cheap. But surely it can be done properly and not take decades in the process. Hopefully it’ll happen in my lifetime but I am doubtful. I mean, we must be quite a healthy, capable nation, or why would they not give more funding to local NHS care trusts and councils. Maybe disabled people are just moaning about nothing.
The shitty wrists. You read correctly. And by shit I don’t mean my own or even humans in general. Dog shit specifically. People are idiots and lazy and perpetually leave their dog’s crap wherever it was delivered. Because who wants to pick up poo? Well not me and my wheels. And seeing as I don’t own your dog, or any dog for that matter, I do not want to find chunks of dog poo in the tread of my wheels and then the creases of my wrist/hand before realising what has happened. Some dog poos are highly stealthy and not obvious, hence why we sometimes wheel through them. No amount of Dettol spray and hand-washing gets rid of the horror. And here’s a picture because my teachers taught me to support my arguments with evidence:
Check out another blog I love, and which inspires me to write about the crappy stuff more and try and illustrate the unillustrateable. Hurrah for Gin is hilarious.