9:35 AM
I closed my apartment door over 50 mins ago. I am at the coffee shop less than 5 minutes roll away. I only just arrived,
I have spent most of the last hour, sitting perched on the bottom step in the cool of a stair well. Embarrassed. Watching people equally embarrassed ; puzzled walk past. Hurrying with laptops and building plans, or shopping. Muttering confusion, apology, annoyance at themselves, the situation, and in one case me.
Why?
The lift wasn’t working. I am staying on the fifth floor. I am in a wheelchair. I had to get out for appointments. Not a good combination today.
I am staying here on a needs basis. It is the best option given my situation. In most cases convenient again. I was hoping to move. This is more inspiration to do so.
The irony of it being; only last night a friend was encouraging me to contact another “geographically appropriate” friend should I need “anything”. I was being my typically independent self, especially in relation to the second friend’s interaction.
It was prophetic.
I had to call them and listen as they calmly, respectfully; carried me down about fifty steps, take the batteries out of the wheelchair, bump the wheelchair down fifty steps, carry the batteries down the same fifty steps, put the chair together stopping every time any one wanted to get past. This is the second memorable occasion; the first time my frienda very talented cartoonist Mike was the arms and legs. If my memory serves me that time was the manual wheelchair, so no batteries.
I keep saying; next time I won’t live in an apartment. Or; next time I will live on nothing but the ground floor. But; fact is. for living in Sydney or any large metropolis, I think apartment living makes sense for me. Ecologically and financially it makes more sense for me. Smaller footprint and such for a person on their own. Also modifying even a house step let alone anything else is hard for a temporary situation.
Plus, what can I say. I like heights. Of that sort at least. Not fall-able height. 6 foot high worries me. Second stories don’t. I have been fascinated with the upper storeys of places, the view from the high windows.
At my Granny’s I was amazed as a child that you could look over the top of the roof. I wanted to sit at the window all day. Especially when life was tough. I had wanted to climb out that window. Perhaps it was simply a case of the grass is greener. Who knows. Being high helps. Seeing hills or water helps. Bit of an occupation hazard for a short woman who sits in her waking hours.
Next time I will live on the ground floor or a place with 2 lifts.
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- Doing the limbo
- The email I wrote for international day last year
- Language matters: offspring
- steps to a community
- Accessibility Apps — iPad
Getting in on the ground floor, like I have been since 1994, sounds like a very good idea, as well as nurturing those who support you, at least until wheelchairs are re-invented by Caractacus Potts, jr after the style of Chitty-chitty-bang-bang.