First comes the walkers. Just to keep them steady and vertical. Carting two walkers  around is better than a fall or not going at all.

My dad had rheumatoid arthritis for decades.  He hobbled around determined to keep going. He finally ended up with a bright red rollator, so he could keep moving, and cart things around.

We only used a wheelchair when necessary. It was during one of those times that I felt the pain of inaccessibility.

We planned an important outing with friends. There was not a close parking space available. The rest of the group went down the steps. I wheeled Daddy back and forth along the back of the parking spaces. I was literally running by the third pass with tears of fury in my eyes. I saw no break in the curbing to get up to the sidewalk. I finally saw that someone had parked in the space between the two handicapped spaces.

I pushed his chair up to the curb. He lifted himself out of the chair by holding on to a car. I popped the heavy chair up over the curb and helped him settle back in.

Then we went down a looooooong, steeeeeep ramp to get to our destination and rejoin the group.

Wheels help, but it is still a hardship

Mama got weaker and needed wheels. Her rollator was smaller and blue. Sometimes she would be confused and push it with one hand and have her walkingstick in the other. Later she used Daddy’s red one.

We would walk up and down her street. She was still in charge of the world then. She would lock the house and put the keys in her pocket. Sometimes the cordless phone from the house went in there with her cell phone.

We would put Mama in daddy’s wheelchair for outings. One of our favorite places had a dirt walking path. We had to carefully navigate the twists and turns on a slope to get down to the flat path. There were trenches from washing in the curves. My sis and I had to strain to keep mama’s chair from flipping. Sometimes strangers would help us. Mama would shriek when she was scared. We were quite a spectacle on those outings.

Wheels help, but it’s still a hardship.

I caught myself wishing for my own wheels last weekend. Each step is painful. My hip  surgery is six weeks away. I wanted to go to an art show. I knew by the time I parked and walked there, I would be in too much pain to enjoy it. The same thing occurred with an outdoor concert two weeks ago. There will be other events after I am fixed. I will get to go places then. My problem is temporary. I can console myself with thoughts of a more mobile future.

BUT what if that wasn’t the case? What if this is as good as it gets? What if wheels were my new normal…forever?

What if loooong, steeeeep ramps and washed out curves, and curbs remained obstacles and barriers for the rest of my life? That would be challenging sometimes and impossible other times. No art shows, no tours, no concerts, no picnics…

Accessibilty matters.

Not being able to go to places you love and do things you have always done is disheartening.  Others must go and do without you. It is isolating and lonely.

Wheels help, but it is still a hardship.

Please, respect the signs.They are not there for convenience. They are necessary, so that someone with wheels and their loved ones can keep living their lives together.

And do not be shy about stepping in and preventing some fools from tossing their elderly mama into a ditch, on a hill, in a curve near a lake.

FLOW