In the following anecdote, I share with you why I have a love-hate relationship with wheelchairs, and their ability to make me feel both excluded and included in a space.
I have a love-hate relationship with wheelchairs.
On the one hand I hate wheelchairs, because they confront me with the unusualness of my body when being compared to both the physical standards required for walking, standing or posture; and when having to fit into complex and rigid mobility impairment codifications that are used to fabricate these devices and to determine their envisioned target group. Wheelchairs make me literally and figuratively feel like I am falling between two stools. As a consequence, when I need to use them to go somewhere, they can make me feel excluded in a place too.
As mentioned previously, I have cerebral palsy (CP), a neurological condition which typically causes primarily visible mobility symptoms, such as loss of gross motor functionality or coordination disorders in the lower limbs. In my case, the upper body is affected too, so I cannot expect my arms to compensate for the weakness in my legs and pelvis when moving around. Additionally, since a few years ago, CP, for me became just as much an invisible illness of chronic pain and enduring musculoskeletal strain. These bodily aspects have a large supplementary impact on my ability to practicably and properly sit in, propel and steer a wheelchair. Hence it makes it difficult for me to comfortably fit into the most common medico-social mobility classifications of wheelchair-users with lower limb impairments and to apply for and obtain a wheelchair that matches and relieves my complete body and my lesser visible chronic pain.
