When is a Wheelchair an Asset?
by Angela R. S. Thomas
My small window in the mosaic of our collective experience is one very few truly understand and so I’m sharing it here as a tiny chip in our larger collection of perceptions.
There are countless ways in which using a wheelchair or having a disability can look like an asset:
I am very popular on the day after Thanksgiving. While hundreds of people tool around the mall parking lot looking for a space close to the building – or maybe even any space – I, my family, and as many friends as can fit into my sister’s SUV have just hung the tag after nestling snug into a close-in spot.
There are also occasions where the parking is metered or has a time limit. Friends and family question the wisdom of utilizing such a space. Not to worry – just hang the tag.
These are two small ways in which the use of a “handicap placard” encourages carpooling.
No matter what, I always have the most comfortable seat in the house. No steel folding chairs or sagging theater seats for me. Oh, no. I’m sitting on a semi-firm foam cushion made specially for my tushion for which my mother has created designer covers. I do love practical gifts!
I am also very popular among children when there is a hill to descend. With my hands squeezed tightly on the rims, screaming and giggling children flail their feet, excitedly kicking my knees and shins.
There are many more similar examples where motating with wheels might seem an asset, but these are not situations that truly compensate for the inconvenience of a disability.
I know we’ve all heard that the blessings of challenges are found in our own and other’s reactions to them. I get to re-discover the truth of this daily. I work with teenagers diagnosed with violent behavioral challenges. These youngsters have been removed from public school situations where frustration has led to unsafe situations. Most often their problems stem from fetal alcohol syndrome or their mothers’ drug addiction and result in combinations of OCD,ADD, ADHD, Anger Management, etc. requiring continuously changing drug combinations.
In all cases they see their teacher using a wheelchair and become sympathetic, helpful, and gentle – traits their families don’t often see. From the perspectives of these challenged, frustrated, and yet highly intelligent children, my circumstances appear so much more challenging than theirs. When they vent at me, my saying something like “Yeah, it stinks. Let’s do something about it. You can move beyond it.” is not taken as lip-service, but comments from someone who travels a similar road. As we study History, Geography and World Cultures, I get to watch my students exhibit themselves as the caring individuals they are.
Because they look like everyone else, their disabilities with which their birth parents “set them up” at conception, are not recognized until problems arise, possibly resulting in, at least, ostracism. Being challenged as I am, I wear my issues on my sleeve – so to speak. There is little guessing what problems I face and might bring to others’ experiences. These students, for whom everyday is an overwhelming frustration are heroes and make the wheelchair an asset through which they bless me with views into dauntless character.
Angela: I am a 40-year-old single mother. In previous lives I have been a history professor, librarian and webmaster (in that order). I am just now learning to trust myself to create my own circumstances.
