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!