I am temporarily disabled until January 1st, 2025. The California DMV says it is so, therefore it must be true. On January 1st, 2025, I will no longer be disabled. The California DMV says it is so, therefore it must be true.
After my fall, I could not walk. Months later, I am walking. I use a cane only when I am tired from a full day. When tired, my balance is an issue, and I might fall, which is where all this started.
Just when I was getting this walking stuff down, it was time to fly to Phoenix to attend a family wedding. I decided to take advantage of the wheelchair assist. I was walking but other passengers would have to wait a long time, behind me, waiting for my ascent into the plane. Just getting to the airport made me tired. The more tired I was, the slower I was. So I requested assistance. My flight departed from a small airport that apparently could not afford direct contact walkie-talkies. The check-in person got on the PA system and announced that there was an A.D.A. at the front check-in. The whole airport figured out that the lady with the cane was the A.D.A. I now had my very own label.
My “driver” was gentle and very nice. The steward who welcomed me onboard took my carry-on and escorted me to my seat. When we landed, I asked my seatmate, who had ignored me the whole trip, if she would pull my bag down. As I was unfolding my collapsable cane she made it clear that she did not have a bag herself but, yes, she would get my bag down. She did so, handed it to me, and turned to leave without acknowledging my “Thank you so much.” I waited for the plane to empty and then hobbled off the plane, and down the ramp, to a waiting wheelchair. I must say that both airports, arriving and departing, were prompt and helpful with chairs.
My trip back home was memorable. I hobbled into the large, international airport. Just inside the entrance was a section, roped off, with about sixteen seniors sitting in wheelchairs. A man eyed my hobbling and ran over, without a word, with a wheelchair ready to seat me. He wheeled me over to the check-in (no waiting in line is pretty cool) and then back to the corraled group. As I sat in the back row I was reminded of an amusement park ride you were waiting to go on that you really did not want to go on. As each person’s flight was nearing departure time, the rope would lower and that person would be wheeled off. The rest of us would be moved up closer to the front and the rope would go back up. It never occurred to me that I could escape and do wheelies down to my gate but the rope squelches any such thoughts.
My driver got me to the gate and left me. I sat at the gate, until time to board, when another person magically appeared and wheeled me through to the plane. I was expected to climb, and descend, the ramp to the plane by myself. This time the steward generally pointed in the direction of my seat, offering no assistance.
Here are some observations:
- When you are slowly climbing the plane ramp you can see, out of the corner of your eye, the rest of the passengers hot on your trail. No pressure there!
- When you are sitting at the gate waiting to embark, there is absolutely no eye contact, no smiles, and no conversation from other passengers. It’s like they are afraid to treat you as normal.
- How many times can airport employees ask you the question, “Are you (really) traveling alone?”
I am so glad I am only temporarily disabled. I have learned my lesson and will be sure to acknowledge others in wheelchairs, others who have to wait, behind the rope, for that amusement park ride that they, truly, don’t want to go on.
Enjoy your health!
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