From the Creamcrackered.me Blog, dated 11 March 2019.
Around two weeks ago it was International Wheelchair Day and this got me thinking about my relationship with my own wheelchair and the journey we’ve been on together. So, I decided to write a little something about my new identity as part-time (ambulatory if you want to be posh) wheelchair user and how I have grown to love my once-loathed Hot Wheels. Full disclosure: this post contains zero cat content.
The journey towards acceptance of my limitations has not been smooth or easy. The first time I used a wheelchair was when my husband and I were flying home from Italy for the final time. I knew that I would find the travelling absolutely exhausting, so was advised by friends and family to make use of the special assistance through the airport, to avoid over-exerted and the subsequent payback that comes with it. To say that I was not keen on the idea would be an understatement. I was so embarrassed at the thought of someone seeing me in a wheelchair, which really doesn’t sound good when I say it out loud. It’s not that I had ever or will ever think of being in a wheelchair as something to be embarrassed about, it was more that I was still in denial about my condition and hadn’t yet made peace with what my body was no longer capable of. How had I gotten here? How could I have gone from fit and active to wheelchair-bound in the space of a year or two? And how could I really need a wheelchair when I didn’t even have a ‘serious’ illness? People would think I was faking, or that I was doing it for attention. Everyone in the airport would stare at me, knowing that I didn’t really need that wheelchair.
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