The kid recently asked me if I wished I could walk. And I know we’re supposed to build up suspense in our writing, but I told her no.
We’ve talked about disability awareness before, but she’s never asked me this question.
I’ll start this by saying I used to be an ambulatory wheelchair user. That is a thing, it’s not some kind of miracle when wheelchair users get out of our chairs. Sit down.
Growing up, I would walk in Physical Therapy. With a walker and then crutches. As an exercise. To build up my stamina to walk other places. And to learn how to fall. Because that’s a thing, too.
I’d be standing on a mat, or in the PT hallway, and my therapist (who I actually loved very much), would um, casually move one of my crutches to put me off balance. I would then fall in two or three stages, as I’d learned.
I’d walk in public at the mall or the movies, or my grandmother’s kitchen.
Everywhere but Grandma’s house, I felt like I was on show. Like even at eight, I had to prove myself.
‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Nothing. Motorcycle accident.’
‘Look, she’s walking. God bless her.’
‘Thanks. Also eff off.’
‘What happened to you?’
‘I was born.’
The motorcycle accident thing is forever a joke, but I have Cerebral Palsy. We know this, no big deal.
One weekend, I took my PT skills to the movies.
Dad and I always stayed to the end of the credits (still do) because it’s not over until you see everyone who worked on it.
Anyway, I’m walking up the incline with my crutches and my Dad. There are two old ladies behind us.
Whispering loudly. About me.
I overstepped with one crutch. I went down on my knees, then my hip, then on my back, without hitting my head.
Three sets of eyes above me. Only one set I didn’t have to prove myself to. And I got up. Using my knees to push off the ground.
A little while later, I said, ‘they wanted to see something, so I thought that would shut them up.’
My Dad told that story in his speech at my wedding. After I dove down the aisle in my wheelchair.
To back it up one more time, when I was about 16, I decided to become a full-time wheelchair user. I thought I could concentrate more on my studies without the extra brain work and yes, pain it took to walk around. Because even when we’re not thinking we’re thinking.
And even though I had OT with PT as a kid, and knew how to carry things with crutches, and do things standing up, I could do more with my wheelchair than on my feet.
Fully accepting my life on wheels was not the end, but the beginning. So, no. I don’t wish I could walk. I wish for wider access for disabled people. I wish other people fully accepted their disabled bodies.
I wish the parents of disabled children knew that walking (or hearing or seeing) should not be the goal for your child. Don’t make them assimilate, or become non-disabled.
The point is where they’re going, not how they get there.
Please be the one person we don’t have to prove ourselves to. We shouldn’t have to prove ourselves to anyone. We have other things to do.
Because I have goals, and walking unaided, erasing my disability is not one of them.
‘Do you wish I could walk?’ I asked my kid, who is still five.
‘No, you wouldn’t be you if you did,’ she said.
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This post also appears on Filter Free Parents. Thank you for sharing my words!
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28 Comments
Having never walked I don’t know what I’m missing, or so people tell me. It must be easier than loosing that ability they say. I don’t know. Because I’ve always just been how I am. Although things do get worse. I don’t ever think it wish I could walk up those steps’ my thought is usually ‘I wish they’d get a ramp’. Although I do sometimes have thoughts like ‘I wish I could still scratch my head’ or ‘I wish I could still pick up that full cup of tea and drink it without a straw’ it tasted different then. But to me that’s different than access. That’s personal.
Love you, Gemma <3
🧡
I love your kid. And her answers!
She’s a stellar human.
That’s a question only a child could ask! I love they have no preconceived ideas and just ask – when it happens in the middle of a crowded school playground and the mum is dying of embarrassment, and you give an honest answer and thank them for asking such a good question in a nice loud voice, does more for disability awareness than any talk could do.
Also stopping a whole building site to get a car moved from a dropped kerb as there was no way to access the pavement until it was, then having to be escorted down the middle of the road by 4 men in hi-viz when owner couldn’t be found really rammed the message home (2 yr old was in a sling on my front to!) Site manager thanked me the next day, saying how much I’d made all of them think. All dropped kerbs were kept clear and I was actually asked what a safe distance to park from them was too!
The kid is very wise with her last comment too!!
Hi, Dani! Yup, and when I’m randomly referred to as ‘the wheelchair’ from strangers I go, ‘and the person in it’ and Isla goes, ‘That’s my Mum!’ One person at a time, I s’pose. But it shouldn’t still be so. Keep going, Lorna
As a life-long wheelchair user I don’t dream of walking but find myself in awe when I see a young man take a flight of stairs two steps at a time.
I get that. I have a love/hate thing with hearing confident footsteps.
This is a timely post, given that I’m trying to rethink my -isms right now. I’m shocked to say that it never occurred to me that in addition to white privilege, I also have ability privilege, religious privilege (atheist) sexual orientation privilege (cis) class and nationality privilege (being British in the USA). The fact that I’m an older female doesn’t bother me particularly, even though these apparently render me inferior to some ageist/sexist people. The point is not to lose all these isms, because they’re hard to shake. But I’ve recently become aware of them. And awareness does help me see the world through a different prism. Not perfect, but more open. Onward! By whichever means we travel…
Thanks for sharing this story and your humorous insights. I love how you fell down in front of those ladies – so funny! There is more than one way to skin a cat, as they say. We all need to find what works for us. Your daughter’s comment was just beautiful!
I never realised a lot of things until you said it. My aunt is paralyzed. Naturally, I’d want to help. She doesn’t need it, she always says. Your piece opened up my eyes.
Thank you, Lorna, for this post. It helped me see what you and others have to deal with, not just physically but also socially.
Thanks for this post, it gives people a perspective on how living with a disability and in a wheelchair is really like.
This was an excellent post. Thank you for sharing it.
Walking is Overrated. With good seating, aka custom wheelchair, I can honestly say the desire to walk is non-existent. It never occurs to me. It’s the re-invented me, and I’m fine with it. Your daughter nailed it perfectly!
I’m now interested in posing a similar question to my 6-year-old niece: do you wish your Uncle Chad could see? I was born completely blind and I’d expect my niece to give a similar answer to what your daughter gave. Just a thought.
Good for you! I totally agree, you shouldn’t have to prove yourself to anyone.
I hope you’ve had a lovely weekend. x #MMBC
I don’t write for personal praise, I write to raise awareness.
This was a really interesting read, honestly. While I will say that I have never assumed one should work towards changing themselves and assimilating, I also never stopped to think about the question of whether they wished they could walk (or see, or hear, etc.). That being said, I do wish that our society would make an effort to make things more accessible for EVERYONE! We have family members with various disabilities and the fact that they can’t enjoy certain activities or places simply due to a lack of available accommodations. Your daughter said it best – such a wise answer!
Love this article. I can so identify. I too have Cerebral Palsy and walk with assistance of canes. Back in the day people would ask, “If they found a cure tomorrow would you take it?” My answer was and will always be No. My disability is part of my identity and if I took it away who would I be? Being able to do cartwheel doesn’t seem worth it. I can do plenty as is. My parents raised me to not see my disability as a barrier but something to plan for. If I want to see the Grand Canyon then I’ll do it on the back of mule instead of hiking. If I want to drive then hand controls it is.
This is so cool. You are such a great writer. And you’ve got one awesome kiddo 🙂
I love the honesty from your child and from you. When my father ended up in a wheelchair at 70 his wishing and hoping to be able to walk again kept him from living and enjoying life. For a year he kept going to therapy with the goal of trying to walk, but it wasn’t going to happen. One day he was crying because he couldn’t weed his garden so my sister and I took him outside (admittedly, in exasperation) and upended him into his garden. He was shocked at first until he realized he could crawl over to his flowers and start weeding. It was that one moment that was a turning point for him and he stopped living in the past and started enjoying the present.
Self-acceptance is all good, but please tel me you didn’t actually tip him out? Wheels are there so we don’t have to crawl. Wheels are legs.
He couldn’t reach the weeds from his wheelchair. He needed to be on the ground for that. And it was a need. He needed to feel the dirt in between his fingers in order to heal. After that, he accepted that he wouldn’t walk again and started attending events, playing wheelie with grandchildren, and even dancing with mom. But every week, weather allowing, he took himself out of his wheelchair, sat in the earth and took care of his gardens.
I love that she said that actually. I think too many people have too much to say about things that are none of their damn business.
A motorbike accident that is classic. You are right, nobody should have to prove themselves to anyone other than themselves. I love that you gave them something to look at. All the best F*k yous are the quietest ones. Love your posts be bold be bloody and wake everyone up to what it is they are doing. Xx still love your girls answers, quick polite and honest.
Hi Ellen, thanks as always. Feel better soon. New adventures here. https://ginlemonade.com/2021/09/21/a-note-from-the-girl-in-the-wheelchair/