Skip to main content

Emily Post of wheelchair etiquette

I've been in my wheelchair now for over a year - sometimes it seems like 20 and others times seems like days. Depends on a lot of things including my mood for the day (whether my 'get-up-and-go' got up and went), the weather (let's face it even the heartiest of Michiganders don't always want to venture out in blustery, snowy or icy days) and what's on the agenda (if I have a date with my hubby or going to see the not-so-little Piggins).

Another variable, about my attitude towards the wheelchair, however is what I believe I will receive from some people when they see me in the wheelchair. What I mean is, some people see ME in a wheelchair and others see me in a WHEELCHAIR. Many times someone will see me coming and give me a look of sorrow or pity - it's a look that gets under my skin and makes me want to scream "You don't see me -I'm not pitiful I'm in a wheelchair!" (actually, what I want to scream sometimes includes a few four-letter words!) I am still the same Kathleen Piggins - sometimes brash, sometimes funny, sometimes mellow, sometimes theatrical and always strong-willed. (John likes to call me stubborn, but I'm strong-willed and there's a difference!) So when I get that look of pity, I know for sure they don't know me, and all they see is the wheelchair. 

My sister, Kerri, has had a few more years than me four-wheeling and I have learned a lot while watching her gracefully navigate this world while rolling. One thing for certain, after you spend just a short while with Kerri, you forget she's in a wheelchair - almost nothing stops her (she IS stubborn!) and her beautiful smile and quick wit soon charm the most irascible. But she, too, has received the sorrowful look and I once asked her (this was before I was rolling too) how she handled it. And she told me to just ignore it that some people just don't understand. So, I'm trying to ignore those looks from people but I thought I'd use my blog to let the gazillion readers (give or take a few million!) know a few points of etiquette:

~    When you see a person in a wheelchair - don't stare! (Children do it frequently and they often ask about my 'stroller' and that's okay. Not so much from an adult. And yes it happens.)
~    When you see a person in a wheelchair - don't give them a look of sorrow or pity. Most don't want your pity, we don't want to be seen as pitiful or different.
~     If you see a person four-wheeling that is struggling to do something like open a door or navigate a ramp - don't just open the door or give them a push, ask them first if they would like help. It feels more respectful.
~    If you're using a public restroom and there are plenty of open stalls, don't take the accessible stall because you never know when someone might roll in and the accessible stall is the only one they can use.

I know as soon as I finish this, I will think of a few more points of etiquette. Feel free to add them below (if you have any). Or if you have a question, post it here too - if I don't have an answer I'll ask someone wiser.

Got to go sip from my half-full glass!

Comments

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

Ten Year

When I was in junior high school, I staged a sit-in and learned about 'ten year'. This will come as a total surprise to most of you readers - I was not a perfectly well behaved child. I know, I know - you're shocked, amazed, in wonder how I could have turned out to be so well-behaved despite the oats sown in my youth.  And the sit-in is a perfect example of how I marched to the beat of my own drummer. Miss Brown was an English teacher - and not a very popular one. She would invoke the yardstick on wayward student's hands and scowl the moment we walked into the classroom. We weren't very kind to Miss Brown but then she wasn't very kind to us, either. Personally, the hardest part of having Miss Brown as an English teacher is that she nearly ruined my love of my favorite topic in school. It was the year we were to learn grammar (have I ever mentioned that as a writer I detest grammar?). I think some new way of teaching English was introduced and in all l...

Time Keeps on Ticking, Ticking Into the Future

Who does that song? The one with the lyrics - "Time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking into the future"? It's the song that continues to play in mind today. I've attended the graduation open house of my son Matthew's dearest friend, Kyle, today. While there I saw the elementary school principal, a teacher or two and a boatload of friends. It made me realize that no matter how hard I try to maintain the status quo ~ life continues. Not only can I vividly recall my children as young children, I can recall many of their friends. It's  bittersweet this time passage thing because we, as parents and adults, can recall these graduating 'children' as children. At this open house, my daughter's first grade teacher recalled Delaney as a six year old lover of books and told tales out of school that brought back the memories of my daughter at that time in her life. Shortly after that conversation,  I watched her rehearsal for the concert/performance/f...

Happy Birthday Michael Bowen!

This is a face I don't see anymore - except in my memories. That of my little brother Michael. Today would have been his 46th  birthday - but this senior picture is how I will always remember him because he was taken from us just a couple years after his senior year. I don't want to dwell on the sad details - because there are many and they can still all these years later bring me to tears. Because today is his birthday, I want to write about the many gifts he bestowed on those that he loved. Bernard Michael Bowen was the youngest of five. The rest of us have names that start with the letter K - but Michael from birth was going to be unique. Named for his paternal grandfather, whom everyone called Barney. No one called Michael, Barney, until high school when many were adopting nicknames. His friends would jokingly call him Barney! And like nearly everything else in his life, he seemed to smile and shrug it off and go with the flow. He played, and loved, football. A...