Tag Archives: Wheelchair

How to interact with a wheelchair user


Via How to Interact with a Person Who Uses a Wheelchair: 10 Steps

I don’t necessarily agree with everything in this post because there are many many different opinions on this subject. Feel free to agree or disagree in a comment. 

People use wheelchairs for many different reasons. Wheelchairs are enabling and mobilizing, like a car or a bicycle. If you’re interacting with wheelchair user for the first time, it can be difficult to know how to act. You don’t want to cross any boundaries or accidentally offend someone, but at the same time you want to be helpful and understanding. Here’s how to find a good balance. They are no different then you.


1 Avoid presumptions about a person’s physical abilities. Avoid presumptions about a person’s physical abilities. You don’t know what this person’s physical abilities are. Just because someone is in a wheelchair it does not mean that they are paralyzed or that they are incapable of taking a few steps. Some people only use a wheelchair because they cannot stand too long, or have a walking restriction problem. Many times, people who never use nor need a wheelchair rent them because too long a walk is extremely tiring, or they have a heart condition. Even if someone is paralyzed, that does not necessarily mean they are completely numb. Do not test whether a person is genuinely paralyzed. If you see a person in a wheelchair moving their legs or stand up, do not question their ability or disability, and try not to act surprised.

2 Greet a wheelchair user the same as you would anyone. Extend your hand, even if they have limited use of their hands or an artificial limb. Generally, it’s appropriate to offer to shake hands regardless of their condition.

3 Speak directly to the person who uses the wheelchair. If someone is accompanying that person (pushing the wheelchair, for example), do not talk to this companion about the person in the wheelchair; for example, “Will he/she be needing help with..?” to figure out how to help. That is incredibly rude and implies that the person using the wheelchair is not able to answer on his/her own. Always address him or her directly and respectfully. When you find that you are going to continue the conversation for a bit longer than you had thought, suggest you go somewhere where you can take a seat. If you can’t relocate to a seating area, then stand a few feet away, so that the person does not have to lift their head to look at you.

4 Don’t feel shy about using expressions like “running along” or “let’s go for a walk”. The phrases are figurative, not literal, and a wheelchair user understands that. It can be more uncomfortable if you blunder the conversation to avoid such phrases, because it shows that the wheelchair user’s condition is on your mind.

5 Keep your observations to yourself. Comments like “Oh, that zooms so fast!” or “Look out, there is a speed camera in that hall” or “I didn’t see you — does that have indicators?” are patronizing and belittling, only serving to make a mobility impaired person more not less ‘different’. Don’t notice the wheelchair unless you have a valid, direct question or comment. Would you make comments about speed if you were talking about someone’s legs? Do you feel the need to comment on someone’s glasses? See the wheelchair the same way as you see someone’s glasses — a sometimes irritating but nonetheless useful tool for doing what you want and need to do, and something that is no one’s business but the person using it.

6 Do not pat or touch the wheelchair user (or the wheelchair) unless you have their permission. Because they are ‘down low’ at the height of children, people seem to instinctively pat, touch or tap and for anyone with spinal or back problems, this may be painful; in addition, it is a gesture that can feel patronizing. The same goes for leaning on or touching the wheelchair itself.

7 Offer to help when appropriate. Knowing when to offer a helping hand can be tricky. Remember that because a person uses a wheelchair, this does not necessarily mean that he or she is in need of assistance. Usually he or she will prefer to remain independent, and is proud of the fact that he or she has learned to adapt well enough to remain so. If you see a situation where they could use your help, ask. Whatever you do, don’t move the wheelchair without permission. Even if they’re not using the wheelchair, moving it out of their reach without consulting them first is not a good idea.

Be prepared to hear “No”. Since many wheelchair users may have been treated condescendingly by strangers in the past, some might seem stand-offish or rude when you offer your assistance. Don’t let a rude come-back to your offer of help keep you from offering help to the next person you encounter. Don’t pass by a person you can see is struggling just to avoid your offer of help being denied. Some wheelchair users will also accept help on some occasions, but not others. For example, an offer to help push a wheelchair user up a ramp on a nice day may be declined, but that same offer may be accepted on a day that is excessively hot.

8 Learn the location of “accessible” ramps. Look for them in restrooms, elevators and telephones in a mall, in case you are asked or are giving directions. Never just assume, though, that a person in a wheelchair is not capable of finding out these locations by himself or herself. They know how to use a mall directory as well as you do. But, don’t assume that overcoming stairs is the only concern a mobility-impaired person will have; having to go 100 metres to avoid three stairs is often much more of a problem than navigating the three stairs (it’s not easy propelling a wheelchair, maneuvering a wheelchair past obstacles like people who stand and talk in the middle of a corridor, or walking on crutches). Ask “What’s the easiest way for you to do this?” Listen to and follow their instructions carefully.

9 Respect them even when you’re not interacting with them.Respect them even when you’re not interacting with them. Don’t be one of those people who makes life difficult for wheelchair users. You don’t want to meet someone in a wheelchair while you’re sitting in a handicapped seat or while your car is in a handicapped spot. The more you make it a habit to be cognizant of wheelchair users in everyday life, the more comfortable you’ll be when you’re face to face with someone who happens to use a wheelchair.(Yeah, we don’t all need those seats with the handicap sign but people with canes, walkers, crutches etc. do, and some of those people need to use the airport wheelchairs etc. that may be where they switch from the chair to the airport wheelchair, sometimes even blind people use the wheelchairs for a short moment because the stupid person who works for the airport etc. thinks it would be easier to get them to where they need to be. Get the picture?)

Try to be aware of the environment, even if you don’t think a person with a disability is in your area. Don’t use the accessible toilets as a broom closet, don’t put things in the middle of the hall or aisle, and don’t use or obstruct handicapped parking spots.

When shopping, be aware of scooter/wheelchair users — try to keep to one side or the other of an aisle, keep your children or companion(s) from walking alongside you abreast forming a wall, and try to not stop short, take a sudden turn or suddenly go backwards. Share the aisle, walk as you would drive, and be aware that wheelchair users don’t have brakes and don’t like being forced to say things like “Pardon, can I get past?”

10 Don’t compare a young wheelchair user to an elderly adult. “Hey! All you need is pearls and you and Grandma could be on a team…” is rude. Don’t do it.


Respect trained animals. People with physical disabilities might be using service animals. If so, remember that these animals are highly trained. Do not pet, feed or distract the dog in any way.

If you manage a restaurant, try to identify a booth and a table that are easily accessible to a person in a wheelchair and keep a wide path open to it.

When in conversation with someone in a chair, sit down yourself if possible. It is very tiring for that person to have to stare up at you. It is much easier to be eye to eye on the same level.

When in a conversation with a group of people, don’t stand in front of the person in the wheelchair. This blocks them out of the conversation and is very rude. Try to remember to open up a circle more to include the person in the wheelchair.

Never abandon a shopping cart in a parking space, especially in or near a designated handicapped space.

These instructions generally apply when interacting with anyone who’s using a device to assist with their mobility, such as a scooter. Treat a person with a mobility scooter as you would someone with a wheelchair. They are used for the same kind of reasons.

If you are hosting an event such as a wedding or party, check to see if it is accessible. Look at the site yourself and make sure that there are no barriers to getting in to the building, there is room for the chair to move through the facility, bathrooms are outfitted (room to turn around, sturdy handrails), and if it is an outdoor event, the ground or surfacing allows a wheelchair to move easily over it. Gravel, sand, soft or very uneven surfaces can present a challenge.

It’s not rude to ask your friend in a wheelchair to carry something. Many disabled people like to be able to reciprocate, so they may offer to carry your shopping bags since that’s easier for the person in the chair than the person walking. Accept gracefully.

When parking, avoid parking beside a van with a handicap license plate that appears to be away from other vehicles. The handicap van occupant may need the empty space next to the van to deploy their ramp when they return to the vehicle. Not all designated handicap parking spaces have sufficient space beside them to accommodate the ramp which may require up to nine feet to deploy so sometimes it is necessary for ramp-equipped handicap vans to park far away from other cars to obtain the necessary space.

When shopping, don’t load your packages on the person in the wheelchair. This is very rude and may prevent the person in the wheelchair from enjoying their shopping trip.


Posted by on August 6, 2013 in Disability


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Wheelchair padded comfort cover

Wheelchair Chair Pad

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Posted by on July 24, 2013 in Disability


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Dental & Doctor’s visits — What a pain

Dental & Doctor’s visits — What a pain

wheelchair dentist

Now being disabled and wheelchair bound brings its own challenges but my latest visit to my dentist and my doctor proved to be a work of transportation and maneuvering par excellence. Firstly let me explain that for the past year all transferring from wheelchair to toilet or bed has been carried out with the aid of a mobile hoist. As a result of my last fall I haven’t walked for a year or two.

Now, the doctor’s visit was the easiest as we arranged for him to carry out his investigation into my state of health at my home. So I was duly hoisted onto my bed for the inspection. Liquorice my paranoid, schizophrenic, antisocial dog took it upon herself to protect me against all comers and had to first be removed by covering her with a blanket, then rolling her up in it so that she could be carried away from the scene of the crime that this strange doctor was going to inflict on me.

Blood pressure, ears, nose and throat were all inspected and found to be in working order.  This was done with the doctor and my wife scrambling all over me and the bed to get access to the selected orifice.

Next, came the prostate inspection which made my eyes pop out on stalks and water profusely. I had never had this inspection done before and I was shocked into a near comatose state when I was numbed into sudden silent screams. You can ask any man about this inspection and I am sure that you will hear some horrific stories. Suffice to say that my doctor has a finger like a thick German sausage or Salami which was suddenly and unexpectedly inserted to do the feel test on the gland. Thus the eyes on stalks quip. Then to fill a little bottle for a urine sample —— a work of art when your arms and hands don’t work all that well. I’m not even used to weeing into hospital sized urine bottles, let alone something resembling an expensive perfume bottle.

Lastly a series of vials of blood were drawn after the nurse had searched for a vein in both of my arms and eventually resorted to draining a good portion of my life’s fluid from my hand.

A few days later I had to pay a visit to a dentist because one of my upper molars had worked itself loose and was causing considerable pain.

After spending hours on the internet fruitlessly searching for a dentist specializing in treatment of disabled patients I conceded defeat and selected a dentist from the yellow pages, whose receptionist assured my wife that they had plenty of experience with wheelchair bound patients. The dentist is on the third floor with only one elevator and a flight of steps for access. (I shudder to think what pain and suffering I would have had to endure if the lift had broken or if there was a power failure)

After negotiating narrow passages I got to the door of the surgery to find that there was a building supporting pillar or column situated right outside (opposite) the entrance door, thus cutting the passage in half. After much performance going back and forth I managed to get into the surgery. Then I faced “THE CHAIR”.

Access to the side of the chair was limited so it was decided that the dentist and his assistant would pick me up and physically transfer me to the dentist’s chair. No mean feat seeing that I weigh around 85kg. Puffing and grunting from all three of us interspersed with squeals of concern from my wife became the order of the day while they maneuvered in all directions to get me comfortable.

He looked, felt and decided to extract the tooth, between sucking in great gulps of air. His assistant was equally distraught and while he also inhaled deeply he sounded rather like an asthmatic vacuum cleaner. It sounded something like hoooooooop peep, hooooooooop peep. It was all rather hilarious but it is difficult to laugh with dental paraphernalia protruding from your mouth. So my hawr, hawr added to the hooooooop peep and the dentists gasps we probably sounded like some heavy metal band at practice.

Injections followed. If they had used laughing gas, they ran the risk of me going into hysterics. We waited for the prescribed waiting period, before yanking the offending tooth from my jaw. Fortunately by this time we had all started breathing normally.

Then the huffing and puffing performance was repeated in reverse. After much hooooping  and peeeeping I was dumped back into my wheelchair. I negotiated the problem doorway after another few back and forth movements, then into the lift, praying all the way down that the thing wouldn’t breakdown.

Needless to say that after all this carrying, pushing and pulling, my body was rather sore. I am sure that once the dentist and his assistant had recovered they would have given instructions to the receptionist to be fully booked if I should ever phone for an appointment again.

I have these episodes written indelibly on my memory and unless I develop Alzheimer‘s I will suffer in silence rather than undergo more embarrassment and physical abuse.


Posted by on July 18, 2013 in Disability, IBM


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Flatulence lifts and wheelchair riders don’t mix

My near death experience!

peg on nose2

Flatulence lifts and wheelchair riders don’t mix


I hadn’t been able to get out of the house for a while because my loan wheelchair was too big to get into my car, but we borrowed a different one that was a bit lower and easier to handle.


The trip to the shopping mall was uneventful except for the odd head bump that was starting to create a domed effect in the car roof that actually made or car more easily recognizable, so we decided to leave it as is until the time came to convert to a Sarcmobile with a domed bulletproof glass bubble that would allow me to my one fan and salute the bad taxi drivers with the stiff finger salute. But I digress as usual ……


We entered the building from the car park, then went straight into the lift. This maneuver was restricted by a tall skinny, rather drunk individual who insisted on holding the door open so I and the rest of my cortege could get aboard without having the doors trying to guillotine me. Anyway, we all squeezed in and started what we thought was a single storey ride, but our drunken benefactor had pushed the 20th floor button before we could push the 3rd floor one so we had no real option but go on the 20th floor detour.


By the 6th floor a stench yet to be unearthed by modern man began to fill the space.


At this time I need to explain in scientific terms that whatever gas was being expelled was slightly heavier than air and it sank down to fill the space between the floor and my nose level. “Bladdy hell”  I said “who’s drop their guts?”  ….. Not a word was heard but my family were all making eye gestures toward our inebriated passenger who was humming happily, totally oblivious to my impending death by asphyxiation.


The lift pinged on the 20th floor seconds before I succumbed and I scooted out of their flattening my torturers toes in the process. I yelled sorry between gasps as I wiped the tears from my watering eyes.


We sort of just hung around on the 20th floor until we thought it was safe enough to descend to our original destination where all started trying different perfume sample sprays to get rid of the stench that had taken up residence in our nostrils.

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Posted by on March 25, 2013 in Disability


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Group Opposing Gadget and Gizmo Addiction


Group Opposing Gadget and Gizmo Addiction


Last week I woke up at what seemed to be the middle of the night to the realization that we are all fast becoming slaves to the latest technologies and mod cons of gadgets, gizmos, thingys (dingesses to some in South Africa) glowing lights in an array of colours, beeps, buzzes and a cacophony of other indescribable sounds.

It was around 5.30am when I was awakened by something that I could not quite place. Was it a noise? Was it a light? Was it a mosquito? No man, it wasn’t Superman either!!!!! It was my wife’s cell phone.

It was switched to silent mode but the vibrate alert was still active. I could see this in the surreal green glow emanating from the digital clock, alarm, tape, radio thingy that is situated on a shelf above the bed.

The phone was dancing across the bedside cupboard like a drunken ballerina, flashing its screen light angrily while vibrating hollowly with the sound being amplified by the near empty cupboard.

You see – we have this very dear friend who is evidently an insomniac, who insists on getting the most out of call more time by sending any messages at the crack of dawn, probably to ensure that we get them before we get too busy answering the calls of nature and all the other alerts.

Now wide awake staring at the ceiling I was suddenly aware that there were numerous flashing lights before my eyes. I felt my forehead to see if I was running a temperature, pinched myself to ensure that I was not dreaming, closed my eyes tightly to see if I could still see these lights and to my astonishment they went away. So I’m not sick I thought. I wondered what was wrong.

The dog moved and the alarm’s passive movement detector’s red light switched on, stayed for a while then switched off. The electric mosquito repellant gizmo glowed owlishly, the multi plug switches glowed red which showed that all the other appliances were switched on (one was blinking. “I must get it fixed”) the TV showed me that it was in power save mode, when suddenly a strident noise pierced the silence to inform me it was time to get up.

Shower time with my pulsating shower head then to brush my teeth with my electric tooth brush, shave with my new wet/dry electric shaver whose red light is flickering to tell me it needs to be charged. I plug in the charger and behold, there is another little red light to add to my collection. Once dressed, I sit in my wheelchair. Now I don’t feel so vulnerable. Bring on the lights and buzzes!!!  I can handle them now.

I switch on the power chair and yes you guessed it. More lights. This time they are red, orange and green. With many clicks and squealing of tyres on the polished floors, the control panel on the chair showing me I’m in 2nd gear, I’m off to the kitchen.

I switch on the stove to make the jungle oats. More red lights glow at me. The timer (in the shape of an egg) rings, the microwave pings, the kettle light goes out and switches off the fridge clicks on and it’s red light shines. Now that I have run the gauntlet of lights and sounds I can have my breakfast.

Now, to get to the lounge I had more alarm passives to get past on the way.

In the passage the alarm panel shows that the alarm has been on guard all night. The TV in the lounge with its light showing that power save mode is on, the DVD, MP3, CD, Radio/tape thingy flashes the time, while the computer hums malevolently in the back ground with its numerous lights flashing and the on screen calendar showing my day’s appointments while beeping at regular intervals.

By this time I am too nervous to face “The Car” because it has beeps for reverse, buzzes for lights left on, peeps for open doors and angry beeeeeeps for seatbelts not used. An array of lights in various colours but mostly red or orange that only a person with a B.GizGad degree in gizmos and gadgets, like my son, can decipher.

Hi everyone my name is Roly and I am a gizmoholic and I last bought a gizmo yesterday. I know I need help but the temptation is so great.

There are shelves full of gadgets, gizmos thingys and dingesses in every shop I go to. Please help.

We at GOGGA demand of all manufacturers that indicator lights be abolished and that all appliances and cars be de-bugged or they should pay for our rehabilitation at the Centre for the GizmoChallenged. No more buzzes, beeps, rings, peeps, toots, pings, bongs, tinkles and rattles or flashing lights or little lights that change colour.

I and my fellow gizmoholics’ sanity is at risk. We cannot have our inter-galactic and Martian visitors coming to this country for the 2020 Odd ball world cup where they could be exposed to these little instruments of torture.

To join the group, please see our web site or e.mail  or come to visit me. Maybe you can help me get out of this strange jacket that these people insist is the latest fashion.

It holds your arms in the crossed position with sleeves that strap to buckles at the back.

I must end now. The ringing in my ears and flashing lights have started again. I know that they are coming to get me but I won’t succumb I promise.  @#$%^&*&^(%$()#@!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Posted by on March 22, 2013 in Disability


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Going shopping or going mad

Going shopping or going mad


I used to enjoy visiting our local shopping mall with my family because we knew we could stroll around in safety while eating an ice cream and looking in the windows until one of us saw something that grabbed our fancy. We would then venture into the shop in search of the desired item. Once inside it would be a case of walking sideways in order to negotiate the narrow aisles between all the clothing, shoes and other displayed goods. It wasn’t a problem then but it sure is now.

I have been in a wheelchair for a few years now and what used to be an enjoyable visit has now become a nightmare.

I was at the mall, not so long ago, when I had a near death experience with a fellow shopper.

I was motoring along at my usual speed of a hundred miles per week when a rather large lady with a Dolly Parton type bosom stepped out of a shop right in front of me. She was busy texting someone on her cell phone, and I was looking in shop windows when a sixth sense registered danger. I swerved to my left and she jumped to her right and with a resounding crash I hit her amidships. I can still see the look on her face, with her mouth pursed in a silent scream, just before the impact, that must have shaken the very foundations of the shopping mall. She landed sort of spread all over me and the wheelchair with my head submerged in her ample bosom unable to breath because of the weight and the snugness of my nose and mouth in her cleavage. She lay across me with her voluminous skirt, which must have contained at least a kilometre of material, looking like a deflated parachute. Her cell phone had bounced a couple of times before disintegrating on some luckless child’s shin. Now he was yelling and she was puffing so loudly that fortunately nobody heard the slurping (much like someone slurping coffee) sound as my face and her bosom parted company. Eventually after much struggling on both of our parts, I emerged gasping for breath and red faced from embarrassment and lack of oxygen. She glared at me while I spluttered an apology, bent her enormous frame to retrieve the pieces of her cell phone, and stomped off mouthing threats against me and the next three generations of my family and anyone who had even a nodding acquaintance with me. Badly shaken and concerned with the state of my wheelchair we stopped for coffee to calm my nerves and access the damage.

The aisles in most stores can be negotiated with care and precision but to actually get between the racks to select a specific item is next to impossible. I have had my wheels get caught in amongst items of clothing (riding down one of the main aisles with a rack of clothing giving chase can be rather off putting), then of course the explanation to the irate shop owner of how this rack had attached itself to your chair just because you swore at it for getting in the way.

I’ve rounded corners and ridden over shoes left on the floor, and toes that I swear were stuck out just to test my driving skills, and driven into other browsing customers with embarrassing regulatory.

Needless to say that any visit to the change room is completely out of the question. Especially the curtained off prefabricated ones. I have bad dreams about getting entangled with the curtains and being forced to buy the clothing out of sheer embarrassment, whether they fit or not, and it is not possible to escape down an escalator with a change cubicle in tow.

Few if any shops will allow me to take items home on approval, so the items must be paid for and then returned for swapping or credit if they don’t fit or are not required for what ever reason.

To venture into a store that sells crockery, art, glassware or appliances is fraught with danger. The aisles are packed to well past capacity and the danger of knocking something over with the added risk of creating my own domino effect on the fragile goods being displayed or run the risk of undermining the base of a displayed stack of toasters, steam irons etc and being crowned by a flying appliance is very real.

So what is the solution, besides shopping online or from mail order catalogues?

I can enter the store and wait by the door for service or I can sit there and get extremely frustrated and angry while I get sideways glances from the shop assistant who is too terrified to approach me to offer assistance just in case I should bite him or her. The second option is more likely to happen in busy stores, where lazy staff, pray that I will just go away if they ignore me.

It has become necessary to create a scene on the odd occasion where I “throw my toys out of my cot” with instant service being offered from every shop assistant within hearing distance. (I’ve even been offered assistance from fellow shoppers and security staff who all come running to see what is screeching like a banshee and just to shut me up before my head explodes from an apoplectic fit).

Needless to say that any attempt or desire on my part to go on a shopping spree, fizzles out like a wet fire cracker as soon as I think back on how happiness, turned to anger to disappointment to frustrated irritation and inevitably choose to rather keep my cool and save my money by staying at home and asking someone else to make the purchase on my behalf if I really need the item.

Not the best solution but at least I remain sane and accident free.

Shopping like many other activities is no longer an enjoyable exercise.


Posted by on March 20, 2013 in Disability


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I got my bum stuck

tiny toilet


Now when people talk to me about disabled toilets I can’t help but visualize a buckled and bent toilet with its cistern lid crooked and flush handle hanging loose, either on crutches or in a wheelchair. The same goes for disabled parking except here I see a crooked pole with a walking stick, with the signboard askew. I know I am being difficult but if we called them toilets for the disabled I for one would see them in their correct shape.


We have found some beautiful ones, big ones, small ones, narrow ones, smelly ones, the odd dirty one, impractical ones, those placed to fill a space merely because it is a requirement to have them, but most of all ones with loose basins, damaged seats and lack of or broken soap dispensers, drying units, paper towels, toilet paper and the list goes on.


The other day, ok maybe a while ago when I could still stand, my wife and I went to the mall and as will be the case with under educated bowels, as soon as we were seated at the table in our favourite coffee shop, my stomach growled, groaned, gurgled then squealed with a cry of such anguish that the people at the next door table gave me that dirty, shame on you look, like if you step on the cat’s tail by accident. I knew that the game was up and surrender to the urge was inevitable. I whispered my need to my wife, who has a hearing problem and she didn’t hear me. I tried again…. Negative! Harder this time! “What did you say” she said. “I NEED TO GO TO THE LOO” I shouted, at the precise time that the whole restaurant had a silent moment. Bliksem! Every eye in the place turned my way and my threatening volcano nearly erupted out of sheer embarrassment.


The waitress caught my eye and came over. “We’ll keep your table don’t worry” she said.


I took off out of there as if my bum was on fire which by this stage it very nearly was and headed for the toilets at a speed that would have turned Donald Campbell green with envy.


I get there at least an hour before my wife comes running up totally out of puff. (She’s really unfit. I had come as far, but faster, and I wasn’t even breathing hard) Eish! Gym for you missy!


The fight with the freakin door was epic. She couldn’t open the door because I was in the way and I couldn’t get through the door because she was liable to get her toes ridden over. Eventually we worked something out and we were in. Help to stand, because I still could, then down with the rods turn and sit. WHAT!


Neither of us had thought to check that the seat was down. I have lost a lot of muscle mass in my behind or rather it has turned to fat and moved to my belly (or so my wife tells me) so, trying to sit on a toilet without a seat is difficult, to nigh on impossible, with sometimes hilarious results. My behind is definitely not as wide as a toilet so when I forgot to put the seat down I ended up with my bony bum securely wedged in the maw of this man eating toilet, with my skinny knees up around ear level. I must have looked a bit like a praying mantis about to jump on some luckless insect.


I was stuck, but had to do the business anyway. Wiped and ready to go. I couldn’t move. My bum had been taken prisoner so I did what every enterprising individual does. I started to laugh. (Girls would call it giggle, but us macho guys don’t giggle we laugh)  It caught on and the two of us were utterly useless to man or beast for an indeterminate period while struggling to get my butt freed from these jaws of death.


The door burst open and a security lady, who must have thought some pervert was having his way with a giggling schoolgirl, stood there glowering at me.


Between these two strong ladies I managed to extract my behind and salvaging the minutest bit of pride that was left I wheelspun my way back to the restaurant while my wife repaired her damaged and smudged mascara.


Posted by on March 8, 2013 in Disability, IBM


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