A few weeks back I was rolling to my favorite coffee spot and hit a long stretch of sidewalk. Along this stretch I encountered what was essentially the progression of my mobility, all lined up in a row.
The first guy I passed was a slow and funky walker. It looked like each precarious step would be the last before he’d fall on his face. I remember those days.
The next guy I passed was using a cane. Although he looked slightly more nimble than the last guy, the cane seemed to be working really hard.
In front of him several yards was a homeless man pushing himself in a wheelchair, one foot dragging (or helping…I wasn’t sure). He was struggling a bit on this very flat surface. It reminded me of the day or two I spent trying to push myself around in a clunky manual chair.
Once I realized my arms were not strong enough to push my body around in a manual chair I went through a period of having someone push me around. Believe it or not, the next person I passed was an old lady being pushed, it appeared by her daughter, in a manual wheelchair.
As I breezed past all of these people in my power chair, I realized how valuable it is for me to be able to have the mobility I have now. Part of me wishes I had started using electric mobility sooner, but the other part of me knows that without the struggles of the transition, I might not appreciate what I have now.