JOURNEY WITH JESSICA

Mobility Aids: Tools of Blessing and Freedom.

I have a secret… I can see. Yes, I have a guide dog. Yes, I also use a long white cane to sweep my path and identify what is around me. However, I do not see total blackness. On the right day with the right lighting and large enough print, I can see fairly decently. I must be “faking”, right? I’ve had strangers scream across rooms, accusing me of faking. The thing is, I use mobility tools not because of what I can see, but because of what I am unable to see. My eyes play tricks on me. I lose depth perception and can hurl myself down a flight of stairs I didn’t notice. Sometimes, I see an imaginary step and plant my foot on the sidewalk when the ground falls out from under me. And sometimes, my eyes just decide to stop functioning all together. Blindness is so much more complicated than “see” or “not see”. Many disabilities are like this.

My friends who are ambulatory wheelchair users know how their body needs vary from day to day. Some days their body functions well enough that they walk or hike and other days a wheelchair propels them through life. Other medical equipment like canes and walkers provide a sense of security for that “just in case” moment that could end in a fall. A friend of mine considers her walker similar to a helmet— she hopes she doesn’t need to use it but knows it could save her life in the chance that she does need it.  

There is pressure from society, including friends and family, to do whatever we can to “pass for being abled.” I’ve had friends discourage my use of mobility aids when out with them. There is some sort of stigma or shame in appearing outwardly disabled and it makes people uncomfortable. I notice that specifically in churches when ushers remove canes and walkers from parishioners to tuck them out of the way. I understand people wish to be helpful but removing mobility aids sends a message that a person functioning in their God-given body is unacceptable, a distraction, or in the way. This can also cause anxiety because the individual is now stuck, reliant on someone else to retrieve their mobility aid. What happens if there is an emergency? Will someone remember they cannot evacuate themselves?

Why do accessibility devices have such a stigma that people proudly state they are not old enough, sick enough, or disabled enough to need assistive devices? Why can’t we all just be “enough” and use whatever tools make our life and our body work best for us? I dream of a world where we see a wheelchair or walker as freedom, instead of looking at someone using one with pity. I dream of a church where we celebrate an individual’s choice to use a walker, make space for it, and trust they know best how to navigate the world in their body.

This internalized ableism is not just hurtful to disabled people but to all people. If we live long enough, everyone becomes disabled in some way or another. Because of the shame caught up in internalized ableism, people fight against using medical equipment, asking for help, or considering what their bodies might need to achieve a fuller, more fulfilling life. This leads people to delay using assistive devices longer than they should, leading to falls, pain, and isolation.

We are fortunate that through Bridge’s Meyer Medical Equipment Center, we have an abundance of assistive equipment so there can be freedom and safety for all. I challenge you, medical device user or future medical device users alike, to see these tools as a blessing, not a burden. They are a way of experiencing freedom, not confinement.

Categorised in: Jessica Blog