Well, it arrived—my new Powerchair. I had a manual chair, but my upper arm strength had deserted me, and a deterioration in my eyesight had left me to decide to give up driving. So, this new chair was how I would get around and reconnect with the big wide world.

For the past six months, give or take the odd trip to the hospital and one disastrous trip to an optician recommended by my GP, I have been confined to my flat. It takes me 20-30 minutes to get down to the reception area in my sheltered accommodation.

A few friends had visited, but apart from my team of carers calling, I haven’t been out or seen too many people. I’m guessing that has made me feel a little depressed and has not helped my general well-being, what with waiting for surgery and the frustrations with the hospital messing me around.  I found it challenging to understand that within six months, quite a chunk of my body had almost shut down.  

Only last December, I went in my wheelchair to Jena in Germany by train and coped with getting around the Christmas markets. There’d been a minor health scare and a horrendous journey home by train. Still, I wasn’t prepared for what happened over the New Year holiday when I was admitted to the hospital and told I had staghorn kidney stones and needed urgent surgery, which, under NHS guidelines, meant that it needed to happen within six weeks.

Fast forward six months, and after multiple date arrangements and cancellations, I’m scheduled to have my op on Wednesday next.

Anyway, back to last Thursday. A friend had been staying for a few days and was returning home to Northern Ireland. Since my new wheels were finally here, I thought I’d just try the chair, travel into town, and return after a post office trip. 

First hitch: I left the sheltered accommodation and turned the corner. A large white van was partly parked on the pavement, meaning I couldn’t use it, and there were no dropped kerbs. I had to ‘drop myself ‘off the kerb, which was not great. I drove up the centre of the road with the pleasure of the van having to trundle behind me—such tiny pleasures.

The next issue came at the bus stop. After waiting 30 minutes in pouring rain, the driver advised me I couldn’t board as he already had a wheelchair passenger on. I told my friend to go, as he needed to catch a train, and I thought I’d go to a nearby Post Office just in my chair. 

This wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had. The rain seemed to become heavier, and the shop seemed further away.  I reached the Post Office and did what I needed, but then I caused havoc as I tried to do a little shopping while manoeuvring and crashing into shelf units. Thanks to the staff for their patience.

I left and decided to catch the bus home as the rain was much heavier.  This involved travelling almost 200 yards to find another dropped kerb and then taking my life in my hands by trying to cross the road.

After another half-hour waiting in a bus shelter that did not live up to its design purpose, the bus arrived but was difficult to board. I got off and managed to get home saturated and regretting my new lifestyle.  While on the bus, a lady helped me to my space and told me the immortal words.

The next day, I called the manufacturers to find out the chair’s range and charging time. The manufacturer, Quantum, politely told me they didn’t deal with customers! Great help, guys. Spend a considerable amount of money on a chair and don’t connect with your customers.

‘Today’s the First Day of the Rest of Your Life’

Hmm…..