I never really questioned my transition from forearm crutches
to a scooter and then to a wheelchair. My legs were failing me and dragging
myself around on crutches was exhausting. We rented a scooter and “aha!” I
could get around again. When I started relying on the scooter more, I needed
more comfort and support and I got a power wheelchair. Easy decision. I was
conserving energy. But I didn’t realize this
would change my life so much.
First, tons more people remember me than I remember them.
It's like a low level of fame. It also becomes your defining characteristic.
I’m the redhead in the wheelchair.
Second,
everyone stares. Once, when I was shopping in my scooter, I heard a woman say,
“Oh! That looks fun!” Yeah, lady, it’s just like a go cart zooming around. By
the way, walking looks fun too.
If
they aren’t staring, they’re purposefully trying to look away, or they have
their gaze set on the few feet above my head where I’m sitting, and that’s even
worse. Like hello, I’m kind of hard to miss. Or, I’m invisible. I have to shout
at people who walk down the street, heads bowed, looking at their phones. I
usually just give a “Hey!” and people jump out of my way like I’m on fire. I
swear I will run smack dab into someone someday. It’ll be awkward. Or, even
worse, I will be hit by a car that was in too much of a hurry to notice me in
the crosswalk. Once I made eye-contact with a driver and I could tell he was
calculating how fast he needed to go to cut me off
– which he did. What the hell, man?! Note
to drivers everywhere: look before turning right on red or hanging a left on to a
one-way street and respect right-of-way. I might be there waving, always on defense, aware.
And another thing: Have
you ever noticed the cracks, bumps and gaps in the typical sidewalk? Or that not all crosswalks have a
clean cutout? Crossing the street is an adventure in itself.
