Musings on the road to recovery

I hadn’t realised that I would be faced with so much choice when buying a wheelchair; self propelling, lightweight, heavyweight (less said about the user the better), snazzy off roaders,sports wheelchairs, travel wheelchairs, the list is endless, although if you’re planning on buying an off roader ,make sure that you have your chequebook to hand /gulp. It seems that, no matter what your budget, there’s a wheelchair suitable for your needs. Well, unless you’re me.

None of the wheelchairs that I have tried so far have been suitable. None of them carry the tag “suitable for languishing in the car boot until the user pushes herself too hard and has to send her husband to the car to get it.” Odd that, really, you’d think they’d be remarkably popular. I did however try one which may prove to be the one. Although I was hoping for one with go faster stripes, alloy trims and a massive stereo to allow me to “get down with my homies on the streets”, strangely enough the salesman didn’t have one fitting my description. He did, however, have a non descript black one which was roomy enough to fit my ample derriere (J-Lo has nothing on me, I fear) and which didn’t creak and shout for help as soon as I sat down on it. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. I am, of course, disappointed that the wheelchair of my choice wasn’t available, but Mr RR has promised that we can add purple ribbons to the wheels to make it prettier. I am, therefore content. (Such a GIRL!)

I must confess, however that I was hoping for a mobility scooter, after borrowing one at every occasion when shopping, I love the zoominess of them, how you can nip around, speeding round corners and doing laps around shopping centres when they have shiney floors. (Like I would ever do laps around shopping centres, timing myself each lap and muttering under my breath when OAPs accidentally step in my way. Much.) Mr RR, however, has declined. My husband, you see, knows me well. He knows that I can derive pleasure from zooming around at 10mph on a scooter, narrowly missing nipping people on their ankles and mowing them down. He knows that, should I have one, I’d be tempted to use it on occasions when I should push myself that little bit further and so, has told me that, if I am to have a mobility aid other than my walking stick, that it is to be a wheelchair.

I could do the expected rant about how I don’t want to use a wheelchair, I could stamp my feet that life is unfair and that I’m too young, etc etc yet in all honesty, I’m simply glad that I can get my life back on track and start doing things that I want to do again. I have a list of places where I want to go, and in my true money saving spirit, have narrowed those down to places where there’s a discount for disabled people, as far as I’m concerned, if I have to be disabled, then I might as well try and save money while I’m at it. My beloved husband, during the compiling of this list, sat there ever patiently, nodding his head and making token protests when it was somewhere he really didn’t want to go but I think mostly he’s just pleased that my joie de vivre is returning. That I want to go places and see things and that I’m not prepared to let my disability hold me back any longer. Surely that’s worth celebrating?

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