Day Three - Running Errands

Today was quite interesting - a trip to the RTA to get a new driver's license (the old one having gone missing along with my Medicare card - such timing).

So, we rock up at the RTA, take a ticket and start filling in a form - at the table which is about half a metre too high for me to reach easily. Definitely designed for someone standing up! But I manage, and we're called up to the counter.

I was REALLY curious - were they going to ask? Were they going to even mention the fact that I have a full driver's license but happen to be in a wheelchair?

And I was so impressed at how she did it in the end, too. The question was so simple, so subtle - "Is it a full license?" And then there was the miracle when I got out of the chair and over to the photo booth. And then Mama couldn't take the suspense any more and explained in full :)

We then pootled along to the library. Mama has dramatically improved since our first outing and is now a bit more aware of the bumps in the road.

Now, it is not possible to browse in a library in a wheelchair. Well it is - but only if you're looking at books at your eye level, cutting out about four fifths of the collection. So, we had another miracle and out I jumped.

All this jumping out is cheating, I know. But the fact that I do need to keep cheating does show how difficult life must be for someone who can't leap out when things go wrong.

Day Two - The Shopping Centre

Well, what an exercise in frustration! I wasn't expecting the trip to the shopping centre to be too bad - foreseeing, in fact, an advantage in a crowded place, in that people would rush to get out of my way!

Which, I should say, they did. Never have I had such a clear path through Westfield Parramatta as we did yesterday! Amazingly, the service even improved - sales people were so much friendlier (even in Oroton, where they usually just look at me haughtily, assuming (quite correctly) that I will not actually be purchasing, just fingering the merchandise wistfully), and a security guard came over as we were reading the directory, and not only told us where the Body Shop was, but the most direct wheelchair friendly route. Very impressive.

Unfortunately, everyone still looks at you - pityingly, embarrassed, and trying very hard not to look at you. Or maybe I'm still a little over-sensitive on that one.

The whole trip started out badly, actually. Mama, or Learner Driver (LD), got excited early as she got the hang of the whole wheelchair pushing thing, and set off at an extremely brisk clop. After screeching for her to SlOW DOWN (an interesting role reversal from when she taught me to drive), we continued on more sedately, realising we'd chosen the wrong side of the road - the old, decrepit, bumpy side (yup, still not enjoying the bumps).

Now, I am completely useless still. Most people in wheelchairs can wheel themselves around and still have quite a bit of movement - they're just unable to walk. Me, I still can't even twist. So I am completely, COMPLETELY dependent on Mama when we go out in the chair. And complete dependence is not something I'm either used to or enjoy...

The major problem comes from the fact that we are both facing forwards. So if I say something, Mama can't actually hear me, so leans forward and repeats what she thinks I've just said. Yes, much like you do with a small child or someone with a mental disability. And I am not special, I'm just currently not ambulatory.

Also, Mama just has no appreciation for shoes or handbags. Incomprehensible, but true. So everytime we pass a display, I want to slow down and Mama just keeps zooming past. If I say something, she assumes I want to go right in - which is how we ended up in Oroton, where I'm usually content to peer in through the window. And you can't just slink out of a shop when you have such a wide turning circle. And did I mention the friendly sales staff?

It is completely impossible to browse in a wheelchair. For one thing, your line of vision is about a metre below everyone else's. Further, I was completely unable to pick anything up unaided (can't stretch to reach anything), and then, if I am aided, completely unable to put anything back again. So, unless you know exactly what you want and where you want to get it from, shopping loses a lot of its serendipity in a wheelchair.

People do get out of your way though. And the credit card and health care fund spruikers resolutely avoided my eye.

Day One in a Wheelchair

Hello all, just a little aside to my usual posts. One of my goals while I'm not working is to do more writing, and I have a unique opportunity to view life from another perspective - one about a metre lower. For the next week or two, the only time I'll be allowed out of the apartment is in a wheelchair. So it's a chance to experience another side of life, with the knowledge that I am exceedingly lucky that it's not forever.

My first foray out was an eye-opener. Sick to death of the couch, Rich and I went for a walk down to the river. The trip to the river is one we do nearly every day - at a run. Running, it takes maybe three or four minutes. In a wheelchair, going slowly and carefully to avoid the major bumps, it takes half an hour.

My belly is still ridiculously painful, bruised and swollen. I have a cushion clutched to it at all times to enable me to do the basics like laugh and cough without losing my intestines. So venturing out in a wheelchair means that every bump is felt throughout my entire stomach and most of the surrounding areas.

Finding Number One
The NSW government does not consider large flat surfaces to be a good investment. This means all footpaths and roads. I already knew that the roads were in shocking shape, but driving over potholes in a wheelchair with no suspension has confirmed this fact. Footpaths are not much better. Full of potholes, cracks, uneven tiles and bricks, the roads and footpaths in NSW are CRAP. I was lucky to have a strong person pushing me to navigate around the worst of the bumps. If I was on my own I wouldn't have been able to get over some of the worst uneven ruts at all.

Finding Number Two
Green men are not long enough when you are in a wheelchair. By the time you navigate down the supposed 'wheelchair ramp' (ha!) across the street, avoiding all potholes and cracks, and up the other 'wheelchair ramp', the green man is not only gone, but so is the flashing red man and we had a maniac P-plater bearing down on us at eighty ks an hour. He did not even slow down. Truly mind-boggling.

Finding Number Three
People look at you in a wheelchair. Maybe this one was just me being sensitive. I hope so. A group of young guys swooped past on their bikes and all turned their heads to look at me. Either they were thinking "Phwoar, she's a hottie" or "Poor bitch". Hmmm. A young family mosied past and I smiled and waved at the toddler, who smiled and waved back. His mother looked at me, and my over-sensitive mind said she's probably thinking "Poor thing, probably can't have any of her own". This one is probably just me reading too much into things. As Mama says, it is far more likely that they're looking at me thinking "She looks fine, what on earth is she in a wheelchair for?"

Finding Number Four
I could wear stilettos all day and my feet wouldn't get sore. Unfortunately, this is the only positive I've been able to pull out of the whole wheelchair thing.

Today we're off to Westfield for my daily excursion! A couple of reasons for this - one, the area between home and Westfield has just been revamped, so the footpaths are all new. Two, once we get to Westfield it's all flat. And three, if I get fed up with the wheelchair I can hire a scooter and go hooning around like the little old ladies in the shopping centre.

More on how the wheelchair goes in a crowd soon!