My poor, sad, neglected wheelchair (sad face)

I have really missed blogging here for the last two weeks (I’m back, yay), but to be honest, I just needed a break. I felt wiped, depleted and I know from hard  experience that when I feel like this it’s better to take a breather rather than having a meltdown and sobbing in my jammies at the side of the canal at 4.30am (ahem, apparently). I have been busy though with activism, and I got my submission in to Date With An Agent (I hope – I never enclosed an SAE to acknowledge my entry but I know my  future award winning novel will totally be selected), so that could account for why I’m that little bit more tired.

Or maybe it’s because for the last month and a half, I’ve been without my electric wheelchair, and the extra physical effort of walking everywhere is taking its toll. And thank God it is finally getting fixed tomorrow, because I am wiped.

My dear mother, who spent the first five years of my life doing physio with me every morning, was dead set against me using a wheelchair. We lived in a two-storey house when most of my disabled friends lived in bungalows. She wasn’t too keen on me having a wheelchair in college, although she understood the reasoning behind it. Growing up in a mainstream world led me to believe that one’s value was largely based on their physical ability to do things and to get around.

When I had Alison, my friend advised me that I wouldn’t want to miss out on doing things with my daughter, and so I got myself an electric wheelchair. Being ambulant I don’t think I’d have any chance getting one off the HSE. And for the first time since becoming a mother, I wasn’t housebound. I could take Alison for walks whenever I wanted, long walks and still have the energy to come home and do some housewifey things, and write my masterpiece. This is why the phrase ‘confined to a wheelchair’ annoys me so much. A wheelchair doesn’t confine, it liberates! Without it, I feel confined, trapped within the limitations of my body.

I firmly believe that when we are given access to tools like wheelchairs, technological aids and Personal Assistance, we are enabled to become the best us we can be. There is great strength in acknowledging that your physical impairments are not the problem, that society needs to address the needs of people with disabilities and be more inclusive. Above all, I believe that people with disabilities need to drive this change themselves.

It came to my attention over the weekend that student Kathleen McNamee, senior editor of the University Times, ‘cripped up’ or explored Trinity College campus in a wheelchair. What’s wrong with this, you might ask. Isn’t it great that people without impairments are trying to see the world through the eyes of a wheelchair user? Well firstly, Kathleen is not a wheelchair user; at the end of her article she wrote: ‘While I will be happy to hand my chair back tomorrow morning, I am also aware that not everyone is afforded this opportunity’. To me this implies that she sees the ‘problem’ as the wheelchair,  not the inaccessible environment. Also, why did she have to ‘crip up’? Why didn’t she look for the experiences of full-time wheelchair users who navigate the campus on a daily basis?

Secondly, I felt that the article was a little unfair on Trinity. When I carried out an access audit in 2004, we identified all of the problem areas and efforts have been made to fix things: the pathway through Front Square, there’s now a lift up to the Pav (the on-campus watering hole) and ramps to the buildings in Front Square. Things are far from perfect, but they’re improving.

Irish Rail, however, seems to be getting worse. A friend of mine told me recently that on principle she refuses to give any train station 24 hours’ notice of her intention to travel because she sees herself as equal. Today I had to travel by train (I had no wheelchair, just my rollator) and didn’t give notice, so I had no reason to be disgusted when assistance didn’t appear in Tullamore (even though I rang an hour beforehand), leaving me no choice but to fling my rollator and myself off the train. Had I been in my wheelchair I’d probably be writing this from Galway!

So to summarise, I’m looking forward to my wheelchair being repaired in the morning and to getting my independence and energy levels back. My normal life back. I know I should make more of an effort to get fit, and some might think I shouldn’t be so lazy. Feck that. My daughter needs a mummy who has the energy to do things and go places with her, and I need the energy to write, and that’s exactly what my wheelchair offers. It doesn’t matter how you get there, as long as you do!