Wheeling it on

If you see a young(ish) person in a wheelchair, take a breath before you judge

 

It is a bit ironic that only a few weeks after I wrote a column on how one experiences fewer ‘firsts’ as one gets older my middle-aged self got to experience a brand new one. It happened thus. I was accompanying my husband on a work trip to Dubai and in circumstances entirely too silly to recount I ended up injuring my hamstring. So severe was the pain that I spent a couple of days in bed on painkillers, dosed up to my eyeballs, getting up only to hobble to the loo and back – and I managed that only with his assistance.

 

But then came the day that I had to take the flight back to Delhi – and before that, negotiate the long walk from my room to the hotel entrance. So, of course, a wheelchair was requisitioned and as I gently lowered myself in it to make the journey to the lift, and then through the lobby, I was engulfed by a maelstrom of emotions. There was relief that I was finally heading back home; there was sorrow at being so helpless that I couldn’t walk on my own; and then, there was embarrassment as everyone in the lobby paused and stared at what looked like a perfectly healthy woman being wheeled around.

 

The airport was no better. The other passengers on wheelchairs seemed to have perfectly plausible reasons to be there. A couple were old and infirm; one had a medical boot on; and so on. And then, there was me, looking fit and spry from the outside but dying from the pain on the inside. But clearly, I kept up a good front because the kindly wheelchair attendant asked me what was wrong given that I looked so young and healthy. I explained my predicament to him but could hardly do so to every able-bodied passenger who gave me dirty looks as I was among the first to be wheeled into the plane.

 

It got worse at Delhi airport. My husband had booked a buggy to take me to immigration and a wheelchair from then on. But as we tried to board our buggy, we were stopped by an aggressive gentleman who insisted that he had first right on the buggy (that we had booked!) because while I was ‘fine’, he had a ‘small baby’ and couldn’t possibly be expected to carry her himself! 

 

I had just about recovered from my ordeal the next day when my feelings of anger and humiliation came bubbling back when I read a tweet that accused Indian passengers of faking being unfit just so that they could jump queues. After all, the tweeter said, he had seen wheelchair passengers go to the buffet unaided and stuff themselves with food and drink, so why couldn’t they just sprint to the gate? 

 

Yes, like we all know, walking ten steps unaided to the buffet and walking 15 minutes to board unaided – while struggling with hand baggage – is exactly the same, right? 

 

And so, against my better judgement, I engaged with that tweet. But I have regretted that interaction ever since. In fact, if at all I have to say something on the subject, it is this: don’t shame people who are in wheelchairs. You will never manage to embarrass the small minority who are faking. All you do is humiliate the ones who are actually in need of that assistance. So, don’t be that person, whether on Twitter or in real life.