Old gals such as I, aging with disability, are often infantalized by well-meaning other old gals such as I. Psst, I’m a big kid now — almost a pensioner.
Certainly, not meaning to do it, they just don’t fully realize that a woman the same age as themselves who just happens to use a chair or crutches has been doing it for awhile and is quite capable of accomodating her own needs while out and about in the community — just like everyone else.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t object to people offering to assist but it’s helpful if they announce their intent, rather than sneaking up behind me. Case in point is when I’m entering a mall. You’re all acquainted with those heavy doors, right? You pull one open and then step in and go on your way. Why are more of them not automatic? A point to ponder.
For me and others who use crutches, we have a method that has worked for us for years; for decades, in fact. We approach the door, extending one crutch to brace the door open, then proceed to step forward, moving the alternate crutch. Then the anchor crutch is moved forward. That crutch served not only to hold the door open, but to balance us so we don’t land on our face. Not a good look.
A wrench is thrown into the works when a kindly stranger, intent on being helpful, rushes up behind to grab the door. Oops! That wasn’t helpful. Often, we’re concentrating so intently on executing the process of getting inside the building that we don’t hear you coming. The best course is for you to wait and do nothing and watch how we do what you do so easily. Then, perhaps you’ll understand why sometimes helping isn’t helping at all.
The assist with the door thing is something I’ve encountered since I moved to Fredericton to attend university back in the 70s. Only a couple of times was I caught off guard, almost taking a tumble. I can almost sense when someone comes up behind me before they’ve put their hand on the door I’m bracing for balance. More than once, in a pleasant manner, I’ve explained why, though appreciating the gesture, taking hold of the door could injure me. Once educated about the way of things in my world, they’ll take that knowledge with them and with the next encounter, they’ll ask if help is required.
Over time, as my health/medical status changed, the devices and aids I use to get me through the day have changed. Notably, I use a wheelchair for mall outings, with both chair and crutches being in the back seat of my friend’s car. If we’re simply going to a restaurant, whether stand alone or in a mall with street access, I don’t always take my wheelchair. I walk. The wheelchair space could then used by someone who may need it more than I. How many out there are guilty of using a wheelchair space when they didn’t need it or took advantage of the wheelchair placard of a relative while driving their car to ‘make a quick stop at the store’. No matter the rationale, it’s wrong. More than that, it’s mean-spirited. Have you ever watched a quadriplegic get himself out of a vehicle? It’s exhausting. They need that wheelchair space that you occupied ‘just for a minute’.
Recently, at a cutaway near Walmart at the Regent Mall, looking both ways before crossing to the parking lot to meet my friend who was waiting, I pushed off — a lady about my age rushes up to stop me from proceeding. She grabs the back of my chair. Yup! I had one of those OMG moments. Did she not see that traffic was stopped? As I was rolling out, I indicated my intent with a glance to drivers in both directions — they saw me. Was the lady not seeing what I was seeing or did she think I was deaf and blind and totally hapless as I wheeled on out? I was getting used to the chair; it still didn’t ‘fit’ me properly so I had to accomodate the manner in which I propelled it. Breaking in a new wheelchair for me is like you getting used to a new pair of shoes. Gotta work out the squeaks.
I thanked the lady for her assistance but told her that I really didn’t need it. I’ve got wheelchair rolling down to an art form. Again, if your inclination is to immediately help, take a breath and wait; you’ll realise that we who are differently able have ‘got this’.
Following the mall outing, my chair went back to Tango Medical where it was decided to replace the back and add a seatbelt - for more security. The chair now requires dismantling before loading into the car which is an education in itself. Look out mall people. I’ll be back!
Carla MacInnis Rockwell is a freelance writer and disability rights advocate living outside Fredericton, NB with her aging Australian silky terrier and a rambunctious Maltese. She can be reached via email at carmacrockwell@xplornet.ca
