Getting around with a different perspective

I read in your fine paper a few day ago Middleton was going to encourage its seniors to get out and about more often. The article pointed out those same seniors had expressed a certain resistance to being in public while using instruments to assist with mobility.

Until last month, I would have assumed it was a question of vanity. I now understand it is not.

In late March, I fell while trying (unsuccessfully) to learn how to ski. I damaged my left knee severely and ended up in a locked brace and crutches. Six days later, my husband attended the Taste of Nova Scotia food and wine show in Halifax. We had purchased the tickets weeks before and thought it was worth a try, even with my wounded knee.

When we first arrived, I was on crutches. Within minutes, people were bumping me. When they saw my state of ill repair, they were instantly understanding. Everyone smiled and chatted with me like they would any other day. Of course, everyone wanted to know what I had done to myself and laughed sympathetically when I told them. After only a few booths, it became apparent this was not going to work. After only one inquiry and less than 10 minutes, I was provided with a hotel wheelchair.

Gratefully, I sat and my husband and I tried to figure out how to move through the crowd. Within seconds, I got my first dirty look. People stopped smiling at me, joking with me, happily making way for me or offering to hold my elbow while I hopped into a better position. Instead, they acted like I had a disease they could catch or like I was about to wipe my dirty hands on their nice clean clothing. They quit speaking to me altogether.

Humans are ever adaptable. It took Dave and I a few booths to figure out he needed both hands to drive the wheelchair and it was best if I held both glasses and plates. Plates on my knees and glasses held in hands, we advanced down the aisles. There was still the same distasteful reaction from other attendees, but with a twist. Somehow, the double fisting of wineglasses offended onlookers.

When next we entered the crowd, I took a new approach and quickly learned, if either of us announced my injury first - “failed ski instructor coming through” - the response changed completely. In fact, twice, ladies asked me if I had tried the such-n-such from some booth over-there. When I said we hadn't made it that far, they went and fetched Dave and I a plate.

It and they were great.

Within two hours, I went from being a normal person who could use a hand to a leper to a lazy drunk and back to a normal person who could use a hand.

The people who responded to me negatively were not bad or evil. They were simply caught off guard by my condition and allowed their first inner thoughts or assumptions to show. If we had been in a hospital, they would have been prepared to see me.

I understand why the seniors in our society do not want to be seen in public with mobility aids. I get it, 100 per cent.

Here's the catch.

People are not really reacting to the person as much as they are reacting to the newness of seeing a mobility aid; we almost never see them. The more often people do come out with their walkers and canes or crutches and wheelchairs, the more commonplace it will become.

I have many hopes.

I hope Middleton can make its streets more accessible to ambulatory aids. I hope people take to the streets, using any means they require, paving the way to public acceptance. I hope I respond with respect and friendship. I hope everyone will see their courage and respect their dignity.

I know one truth.

Hope has a funny way of turning into belief, and belief into reality.

Sincerely,

Allison Maher

Dempsey Corner