I’ve developed the only technique that works, because that’s what people with disabilities do, we encounter barriers and figure out how to manage them. That technique is to hold the handrails on both of the front doors, tilt my chair to a 45 degree angle, then act all Olympic bobsled rider at the top of the run. Back and forth a couple of time then a huge push through, the chair careens towards the threshold and pops over. Works almost every time, when it doesn’t I almost throw myself out of the chair. Because of that Joe watches me do this with a mixture of humour and horror. Humour because he finds everything funny, horror at the idea of getting me off the floor and back into the chair.
We manage, that’s the message here. But we manage when I do this the way I need to do this. I’ve written before about the problem I have when people want to hold the door for me and the difficulty I have in getting the door back so I can use it. When they hold the door open, I quite literally, can’t get in. For the most part people in the building have learned to listen to me when I request something, rarely, or ask them, politely, to not help.
But couple days ago I found myself in the middle of a kindness fight between two men and one woman all determine to hold the door open for me. One fellow came out, saw me rushed to get the door, before I could stop him another guy came by saying to the first guy, ‘I’ve got it.’ The both held on a second later a young woman was coming in and reached from behind and said to the two guys, ‘you guys go ahead, I’m on my way in.’ For a second they all just held the door in silence. A kindness competition was going on, and me, sitting under all these arms.
In that silence I found opportunity, ‘I need the door so I can use the handrail to get in.’ A choir, ‘No, it’s OK.’ I looked to Joe who also saw the absurdity of the situation and had started laughing. They glanced at him, and though his laughter he explained how I got through the door, unable to speak most words he mimed them while ha ha ha-ing through the explanation. I looked up at them they looked down at me. Then we all just laughed. They let go of the door, I grabbed the bar, I already had the other one in my hand and I pushed back and forth a couple times and then shot into the lobby to their applause.
The oddest entry into my building I’ve had yet.
Life in a wheelchair – expect the unexpected.
Life in a wheelchair – develop a sense of humour.
Life in a wheelchair – there are moments when taking a bow is appropriate.