Rolling Through Life!

Life as a wheelchair user is a lot like being a superhero. You’ve got your own set of wheels, you’re always seated (which is a bonus in long queues), and you have the uncanny ability to make people awkwardly overcompensate for their lack of knowledge about disability etiquette.

Let’s start with the obvious: the wheels. They’re not just for mobility, they’re also a great conversation starter. “Wow, those are some shiny wheels!” or “Can you do a wheelie?” are common icebreakers. I’ve even had someone ask if my wheelchair is solar-powered. I mean, I’m all for renewable energy, but I’m not quite ready to turn myself into a moving solar panel just yet.

Then there’s the seating advantage. While everyone else is desperately looking for a place to sit on a crowded bus or at a concert, I’m already comfortably seated. I’ve got the best seat in the house, and it comes with me wherever I go. It’s like having a VIP pass to every event.

But the real fun begins when people try to interact with you. Some people treat you like you’re made of glass, others like you’re a piece of furniture. I’ve had people lean on my chair like it’s a convenient wall, and others who’ve tried to ‘help’ by pushing me without asking first. I’m not a shopping cart, folks!

And let’s not forget the classic ‘talk louder and slower’ approach. Because apparently, using a wheelchair also affects your ability to hear and understand. I’ve often thought about responding in slow motion or pretending I can’t hear them, just to see the look on their faces.

Then there’s the awkwardness of elevator rides. You’d think it’s simple: press button, wait, get in, get out. But oh no, it’s a whole different ball game when you’re in a wheelchair. People rush to press the button for you, then stand back like they’ve just defused a bomb. And when you’re inside, you become the unofficial ‘button presser’ for everyone else. I didn’t know my wheelchair came with a job description!

But the best part? Ah, the monthly government stipend of course, the pièce de résistance of wheelchair living. It’s like having a mini lottery win every month. I mean, who doesn’t like a bit of cold hard cash landing in their bank account on a regular basis? It’s like the government is my secret admirer, sending me love notes in the form of direct deposits.

I also enjoy the assumptions. “You must be great at wheelchair basketball!” Well, no, Karen, I can’t shoot a hoop to save my life. And no, I don’t know your friend’s cousin’s neighbour who also uses a wheelchair. We don’t all know each other, contrary to popular belief.

Despite all the awkward encounters and misconceptions, life on wheels is pretty great. It’s like being part of an exclusive club with the best parking spots. And let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want to zoom past pedestrians on a downhill slope? It’s the closest thing to feeling like Superman.

If you loved this one, check out my inspiring story Oxford on Wheels: How I didn’t let my wheelchair stop me!

So, the next time you see someone in a wheelchair, remember we’re just like you, but with cooler seats. And please, don’t lean on our chairs. We’re not your personal leaning post. Unless, of course, you’re willing to pay a leaning fee. I accept cash, card, and cookies.

In the end, we’re all just trying to roll through life the best way we can. And if we can do it with a bit of humour and a lot of grace, then we’re doing something right. After all, life is too short to not enjoy the ride.

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