Volume X, Issue V
September/October 1997

Walking In the Shoes ...

by Ellen E. Nolan

I have always considered myself an open-minded person, sensitive to the plight of others. Having been a Special Olympics Coach and having worked in the health care field for many years, I prided myself on having a good understanding of what people with disabilities face on a daily basis.

I was wrong.

Because of an illness, I was recently confined to a wheelchair for several months. Although I would never wish this experience on anyone, it opened my eyes to the hardships of being disabled, especially from an attorney's perspective.

My doctor wrote me a prescription for a wheelchair when it became apparent that I couldn't stand or walk for more than about a minute. I promptly took the prescription to a local pharmacy, where I was given a standard issue chair, with no instructions. How hard could this be, anyway?

The pharmacist helped me out to my car and loaded the chair in the back of my Saturn. First hurdle: Thank God I had a car that had a fold-down back seat. The chair barely fit. Second hurdle: Unloading the damned thing! These things weigh a ton! For a person who can barely stand and is very weak from illness, it was nearly impossible to get it out of my car. Loading it was even worse. With all of the different metal alloys they have these days for bicycles and such, why haven't the manufacturers of wheelchairs developed a more light-weight standard model?

My next task was to obtain my temporary handicap parking permit. Ironically, the Department of Licensing in my city happens to be located on the only floor of the courthouse not directly accessible by public elevator. Instead, you must go up two flights of marble steps to get your permit, verifying that you have limited mobility. The six other floors are all accessible. Does this makes sense?

It is amazing to me the strong opinions people have about handicapped parking. However, having walked in someone else's shoes—or wheels, so to speak—the use and misuse of these spaces is incredible. Suddenly, you realize that hundreds of vehicles have a permit, and that it is very difficult to get handicapped parking, even when you have a permit.

My first outing in my wheelchair was to the clinic for more tests. The handicapped parking was hard to come by, and the only place I could find to park was up a hill from the front doors. As I started down the ramp towards the entrance, I began to pick up speed, fumbling for the brakes (which, incidentally, are awkwardly located behind the wheels). As I grabbed for one, I went sideways, speeding directly towards an elderly couple, who managed to stop me and my runaway chair. After my sincere apologies, they insisted on escorting me to my destination. I think they did not want to run the risk of having me behind them again. Surprisingly, for a health care facility, there really was no "easy access" to get into the clinic without having to negotiate a substantial hill.

The permit does come with some perks, besides closer parking. If you can find a full-serve gas station, they are supposed to pump your gas for self-service prices. However, I think full-service has gone the way of the dodo bird and the dinosaur.

The chair itself became a great thing of amusement to my friends and family. My three-year old niece thought it was my "big girl stroller," and insisted on pushing me everywhere, including directly into other people and brick walls. Friends would like to show off by popping wheelies and fancy maneuvers. At conferences, people wanted to take turns pushing me. I was a giant toy.

Unbeknownst to me, a metamorphosis occurs when you become disabled. Apparently, wheel chairs affect your hearing and IQ. Suddenly, people start talking to you loudly and using simple words. They tilt their heads when they talk, and everyone calls you "hon." Or, to avoid the risk of being rude and staring, people pretend you're invisible. At one point, as I was stuck in a very heavy doorway at a hotel, trying to maneuver over a bump in the doorjamb, four or five hotel employees were pretending not to notice me. Finally, it was a bellhop who couldn't have been sixteen that rescued me, and with a lot of finesse. He simply walked up to me, and pushed me through the door. No matter what you may think, gestures of kindness are always appreciated.

Then there was work. As an attorney with the Department of Social and Health Services, I am sure I had it pretty good compared to a lot of other people. However, even with a relatively sedentary job, there were plenty of obstacles to overcome. First, it was impossible to get my wheelchair anywhere near my desk without major adjustments. The nap of the carpet made it extremely difficult to get certain places or go certain directions in the office. If people did not push in their chairs in the conference room, I was unable to get in at all. Many of the books I needed were up about five feet, while I sat at about three feet. I could not see the top of the fax machine or the copy machine, and it was very difficult to transport files and papers. Worst of all, there is no cup holder on a wheelchair. I had to use my version of the Tommy Tippy Cup, and tuck it in the seat next to me to keep it from spilling.

I was fortunate in that I could cheat by minimally using my feet and legs. Had I not had this ability, I would have been stranded many times in public restrooms, and trying to get in and out of buildings.

The purpose of this article is not to give you great legal insight into the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 Pub.L. 101-336. My point is much simpler. I never thought I would find myself in such a situation, and I don't know when or if I will again. Life is full of surprises. Thank God there are laws out there that are supposed to make doors to public buildings wide enough, public transportation accessible to everyone, and employment available to capable individuals who can work as well as anyone with a few reasonable accommodations. Having been in those shoes, I do not think the laws go far enough, but hopefully, our profession will do everything we can to make sure the laws are enforced and people with disabilities protected.

Ellen Nolan is an attorney with the Department of Social and Health Service—Division of Child Support in Wenatchee. She is also the WYLD Trustee for the North Central District.

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