Later today I'm going to the other side of Dublin to be interviewed for a radio programme that has it's focus on disability issues. A couple days ago I spoke with the researcher who helps put the interview together for the host. I like doing media when I travel, its a means of getting the message to others in the great 'out there'.
At the end of the conversation she explained that she would arrange for a cab to pick me up and get me to the studio. Inwardly I panicked. I have a great deal of difficulty with cabs now. Getting in and getting out. First I thought that Joe and I could drive in the rental car but then I realized that the chance of getting lost is extraordinarily high since European road planners have yet to discover the 'straight line'.
So I explained that I was in a wheelchair and of course, as this was a show about disability and the host uses a wheelchair, this was not an issue. They would arrange for a cab that can accomodate both me and my wheelchair.
My first sense was relief.
We'll make it on time and not have to worry about directions.
My next thought was about the fact that this is the first time I'm going to use adapted transportation. Not that we haven't adapted to carrying the chair in our car or to ensuring that places we go to have no stairs - but those are kind of 'soft' adaptions. This is a big one. I'm not going in the 'normal' taxi that carries 'normal' people. I had to fit this into my mind in a new way.
Does it bother me? I ask myself.
Am I giving up too much ground? I wonder.
Should I be pushing myself like those inspirational disabled people who climb mountains and run across plains? But I didn't like heights before the chair. I never ever ran before the chair. So I don't want to be heroic, inpirational or even an example for others. I just want to get to the studio and do the interview.
I guess if the cab can be adapted.
So can I.
3 comments:
hmm, interesting, what makes us feel normal and what causes us to stop and think.
Hoping the ride was a good one and you were on time.
Giving ground, or gaining it?
I'm writing this to the stealth bomber in the wheelchair. No ground given up by the one who "sit's quietly," and who I always think must have a "cloaking device" that makes him invisible-- such juicy tidbits of conversation does he overhear.
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