WHEELCHAIR USERS: A pain in the bum for some

Wheelchairs get in the way of the able bodied. That's a sad fact, I'm afraid.

Okay, so we try to accommodate them when they bash into our ankles in shops, malls and lifts. They also have a very nasty habit of preventing us from getting to work on time via public transport; a result of the precious time it takes for the ramp - and rump - to be extended to pavement level.

Deep down in our hearts, don't we all wish that quads would stay at home and accept their lot as being their lot and not ours?

I pity the paralysed. They have no real independence because they've no free will of their own. It doesn't matter how many stickers of where they've been or what they've done they plaster on the sides of their chairs because, in reality, they are independently immobile and have less to offer life in general.

More often than not, they drool from the sides of their mouths and make trips to the shops, theatres and cinemas, less enjoyable for those of us who crave a day out without the hassle of making way for the Ironsides.

I can remember when my old ma used to get around without the use of a four wheel drive wheelchair. These days, not only are her legs out of commission, but her arthritic hands prevent her from turning the wheels. She is totally dependent on others to get her where she wants to go and I wonder how long she would survive without the help of her loving family. Frankly, if she were left alone in the wild, she would quickly be finished off by creatures higher up the food chain. It's the law of the jungle, I'm afraid.

I suppose there are exceptions to the rules, but not many.

Being wheelchair bound is tantamount to living a life that is unfulfilling, frustrating and downright dire. Having to look up at shop assistants - whose own brains are not exactly sharp - is surely a fate worse than death for quads.

Some quads take the bull by the horns and stubbornly refuse to cowtow to the able bodied, and that is admirable. But even they know that without the help of family and friends, their lives would be (and are) unproductive, servile and pretty worthless.

I sometimes wonder if there is a place for the disabled at peak times. Christmas is coming up and we all know that the last thing we need when we're buying those last minute Christmas gifts is to wait outside a changing room while a quad and her helper spend twenty minutes or so attempting to try on garments that more often than not don't fit withered arms and useless legs.

My mother recently paid a visit to the optician. The ordeal of trying to position her chin on the apparatus - due to the fact that her wheelchair is too low to accommodate her comfortably - not only wasted the time of the person testing her eyes but also irritated customers who had to wait long after their allotted appointment times.

Naturally, I feel sorry for my mother, but I also feel for those with busy schedules who have better things to do than wait for someone who should perhaps have booked an appointment out of office hours.

Call me cynical if you like. Some might even consider me downright nasty. But though you probably don't like to admit it, wheelchair jockeys really ARE a darned nuisance. Aren't they?

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