#visible

They See Me Rolling...

Wheelchairs.

They are both my saviour and my fear.

I cant stand still for more than 20 minutes without fainting on a bad day. A year ago this would have been 5 minutes. The year before that it would have been 30 seconds.

So now I don't stand still. I sit down or I walk. However there is one area of the world that this is impossible.

The check in, security and customs desks of air ports. Where you are required to stand for an undetermined length of time. Even the most healthy, fit, non fainting person hates these queues.

So... I roll.

Airports now have a disability desk, where you can book a wheelchair and a person to push you past all the ques. Its basically a free queue jump pass. This is the second time this year I have used this service. Last month I went to Portugal. The wheelchairs were a blessing, there is absolutely no way I would have been able to stand upright and not moving in the queues that we breezed right through (My family and I)

But I hate it.

I absolutely hated it.

I don't mind pushing myself in a wheelchair. I can control it. I know where my feet are in front of me and how long it will take me to stop myself from rolling into an obstacle. I know which angle to turn so I don't feel 'sea' sick. But other people pushing you don't. And this time I needed other people, because the chairs had those small little wheels which put you into the mercy of others.

My family, when they pushed it, were considerate, but amatures at pushing wheelchairs. Though my mum insisted she was a pro, she was the one who pushed me into walls, people and peoples paths the most. And all you can do is look up and mouth 'sorry'.

Why is it when people push you, they use you as a battering ram, spreading the oncoming people to create a path? Why do they walk faster than they would normally walk anyway?

But the guys who worked for the airport. They pushed me as though I was a piece of baggage. Whirling me around a corner only one hand pushing me. Pulling me to a halt not one thought even given to me.

And when we did stop?

Why was I left facing a blank wall? Or left stuck out, in the way of others, wheeling myself with my legs to the safety of a corner?

As both a wheelchair user, and a walker (Lol... I'm totally a zombie in disguise people) I can sympathise with both groups in this situation.

The infuriating feeling of helplessness, and the annoyance of having to navigate around a chair that has been plonked wherever the person pushing it has decided they want to leave it.

It.

Because when I was in that chair, I was not a person.

There was no respect. Just bruised toes from misjudging where the wall was in relation to my feet.

A sore bum from the wheel that was rickety and jolted me up and down and up and down every time it spun around.

Why was I put in a broken chair? Why was a broken chair still in service anyway? That chair became my legs! Would you give someone broken legs to walk on? Why would you give me them then?

A sigh of reluctance when I wanted to be wheeled around the duty free. Clenched teeth as I was told not to go anywhere without my brother. I needed to stay right where I was. It wasn't my turn to look around.

I'm sorry, this has turned into a rant. Not my intention believe me. I'm just sick and tired of it all to be honest.

I should have braved the condescending and judgemental looks and gotten out of my chair and walked around. But then there is the fear of a misunderstanding. Of having the chair taken away from me to give to someone who 'really needs it'. So I stayed put and sulked silently.