Hi there. Yes, it’s yet another disability post. Sorry about that, but, y’know, after living with a disability since birth and working in the disability sector for ten years, you become accustomed to the challenges facing people with disabilities every day in their quest for equality, respect, or sometimes just to be left the f*** alone to live their lives. If you are a ‘normie’, that is a person ‘without disability’, you might be a bit offended, and for this I apologise; you can’t please everyone and all that.

Here we go:

1. You are going about your normal business in your local Tesco and are reaching for an item when a stranger who has been watching you for half an hour (following you around the shop actually) pops out of nowhere to grab said item, startling you and causing you to fall on the floor. You look like a tit because you’re a grown adult who is now lying on the floor. Now they are pulling you up by your arms which is a waste of time because  your feet are not ready and bam! down you go again. Why do they let you out on your own?

2. When people can’t understand you because of your speech impairment and they start talking slower to you: ‘I – can’t – understand – you’. Well, I can still understand you, you tool, it’s me who needs to speak slower. Incidentally, I’ve been reliably informed that if someone has a hearing impairment/is deaf/Deaf, speaking slower makes things worse as the person may rely on lip-reading. So there.

3. When you try to order a wheelchair accessible taxi (the phone numbers for these are known by a sacred few) and are told that the taxi doesn’t operate past 11.30pm (come on, even Cinderella got till midnight) or that you didn’t book it four months ago,so no dice Ha, thought you’d be spontaneous, didn’t you? You thought wrong.

4. Total strangers think it’s okay to come up and bless you. Sometimes they grab your wrist, holding back tears. ‘You should go to Lourdes’, they say. I’ve been offered money to go to Lourdes and be cured. Guess what, people? I’ve been to Lourdes, and I’m still disabled. I want my money back.

5. You decide to stop being a heathen and go to Mass. I recently went to a dinner held by a disability organisation and there was a lovely Mass beforehand. However, there is something slightly disconcerting about having a Gospel where Jesus healed all the lepers and cripples when 75% of your congregation use wheelchairs or walking aids. Not that I’m equating disability with leprosy, but still.

6. You are an individual! You are You! So why is it when you see a person with a disability on the street are you likely to think, ‘I wonder do I know them’, and if you don’t, ‘I wonder why I don’t know them’.

7.  You ring Eircom/the bank/AES/Electric Ireland in relation to your most recent bill and they have those stupid voice activated menus. And then, after being on hold for 45 minutes, they disconnect you because they can’t understand you.

8. On a related note, people hanging up on you because they think you’re drunk, which saps your self-esteem so much that all you can then think about is getting very drunk.

9. Eejits trying to push your electric chair because they’re too silly to simply say ‘excuse me’. Incidentally, there is a way to manually push electric wheelchairs which involves unlocking the mechanics underneath it, which is handy if it breaks down. However, I can easily move the chair myself if I want – it’s amazing! Also, I’m pretty sure that if I lifted somebody out of the way in a queue, I’d get punched in the face.

10. If you are foolish enough to get angry or annoyed at anyone in 7, 8 or 9 above, you earn the dreaded ‘angry crip’ badge. Nobody like the angry  crip, or to use the more alliterative term ‘crip with a chip’. You think the whole world is out to get you. It’s not, it’s all in your vivid imagination. Get a grip.

11. Because of the strong support network provided by IWA and CIL (thanks guys!), it’s common for people with disabilities to befriend one another through committees, social events, etc. Beware that if you decide to meet up with your mates outside these circles, and you all have disabilities, you are guaranteed to have at least one nosy Nelly come up to you and ask ‘are you all out for the evening? Isn’t it great to get out?’ Er, out from where? Do people still think that people with disabilities should be institutionalised? Scary thought.

12. If you go for a drink/coffee/meal with your husband/friend/Personal Assistant/Family member, they may well be asked what you want to order. This is called ‘does he take sugar’ syndrome (no, honestly). Basically it’s an assumption whereby  you as a person with a disability cannot make basic decisions for yourself because you are a complete tool. No point in asking you so. You may hope for the best.

13. A noun refers to a person, place or thing. Just to clarify: a wheelchair is not a buggy, wheelbarrow or chariot; a person who uses a wheelchair is a separate entity from the wheelchair (a liberation tool), a person who uses these aids does so to get around, not just to get a pass into using the accessible toilet.

14. Which brings me to this point: sticking a wheelchair symbol on a toilet cubicle door does not make it an accessible toilet. If you cannot get the door closed when you bring your wheelchair inside the cubicle, then the toilet is not accessible. I’m sure the world does not want to watch people with disabilities pee, but hey, if it does, who am I to judge?

15. If you’re a bit of a gambler, why not head off for the day on the train? Sure, don’t they even have accessible toilets now? (not bad toilets either). Don’t forget to remind the train station staff ten times to ring ahead to your selected destination so that they can have the ramp ready for you. But don’t be surprised if, when you arrive, there is no sodding ramp and the station weren’t informed you were coming. Sure it’s no big deal travelling to the next station, begging them to get the ramp and let you off, and travelling back. Sure what else would you be doing?

16. If you’re a real daredevil altogether, get the DART. My husband nearly had his arm amputated by the doors of the DART when they closed on his hand and  then the DART proceeded to take off. He was on the platform and he could feel himself being dragged alongside the train. It took six strong men to pry the door open and release his hand. The reason why my husband had his hand in the door in the first place is because my friend and I were waiting for the ramp which didn’t materialise. What did we do? See number 15 above.