Five things you will not hear a wheelchair user say

When visually impaired Stevens Chan and his guide dog Lashawn were escorted out of mall and denied rides in taxis recently, questions were raised on access for the disabled.

We spent an afternoon with a wheelchair user, Daniel Lee, to find out five things the able-bodied take completely for granted.  

#1. “Just gonna pick up a couple of things from the supermarket”
Daniel Lee scanned the aisles for cherry tomatoes. Just his luck, they’re on the top shelf.

Born with brittle bone syndrome, 23 year-old Daniel moves around with a wheelchair to minimize his chances of breaking another bone.

Thanks to the five titanium rods in his legs and countless hours of exercise, Daniel can hoist himself into a standing position for a few seconds. Most wheelchair users can’t.

He eyes the boxes lining the shelf, decides on one, stands and grabs it. Wheelchair users, especially those who rely on others to reach items on higher shelves, don’t have the luxury of examining each pack for the reddest ones. 

Because he can’t push a trolley, everything has to fit in a basket, and subsequently in the knapsack slung around the back of his wheelchair. Fragile items like eggs must be cradled on his lap.

The checkout lane is wide enough – just only – for his wheelchair to squeeze through. In some shops, he has to backtrack and exit through the entrance.

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#2. “Can wait a while? I need to withdraw money”

The next time you’re at an ATM, try withdrawing money on your knees – that’s about the height of a person on a wheelchair.

ATM screens are practically unreadable when shone on by the sun. You and I would use our bodies to block the glare, but guess what – a wheelchair user can’t.

They also can’t shield the keypad and screen with your body, so it becomes a real task to conceal their pins and personal information like names and account balances from prying eyes.

“I’m lucky, because I can stand. Most other OKUs probably don’t use ATMs to get cash,” said Daniel.

#3. I need to use the toilet – won’t be a minute

The search for a disabled toilet, even in a modern shopping mall, can be arduous.

Daniel couldn’t find an information board or desk, so he began checking out the toilets floor by floor.

Let’s remember that getting between floors isn’t easy for people like Daniel. They have to source a lift. See ‘#4. “Let’s take the escalator”

Daniel said that disabled toilets were often locked so members of the public wouldn’t hog them (the irony, eh?).  On many occasions he had to hunt down the person holding the key. Not an ideal situation when nursing a full bladder.

He could not find a disabled toilet in that particular mall.     

#4. Let’s take the escalator

With escalators and stairs being no-go zones for wheelchairs, Daniel has to rely on lifts.

“Lifts!” he exclaimed, with a frustrated shake of the head. It was obvious we had hit a raw nerve.

“Lifts in LRT and KTM stations are particularly bad. There’s usually only one lift, and they’re often broken. Even if they’re not, there’s a mad rush when doors open and I can’t get in. I mean, why can’t other people use the escalator or stairs?”

Daniel said that he had probably been given way at LRT station lifts three times in his life.

“Some are broken, but don’t have a maintenance number to ring. Some have a number but no one picks up. In these cases there’s no choice but to ask people to carry us.”

“That’s why I learnt how to ride escalators. Here, watch this,” he said with a cheeky smile.  He flipped his wheelchair around, grabbed the balustrades with both arms, and rolled onto the moving steps.

He strongly advised other wheelchair users against trying this ‘extremely dangerous’ maneuver.

#5. ”Let’s just grab a taxi”

Daniel left the cool confines of the mall and entered the chaos of late afternoon traffic outside. The taxi stand was about 400 meters away.

Instead of rolling towards the taxi stand, he headed in the opposite direction - there was a traffic divider he couldn’t go over, so he had to take a long detour around it. That done, a crossroad, split by yet another insurmountable divider, now stood between him and the taxi ranks.

“Here are my options. I can either cross at the closer end of the divider here, where traffic is heavy, or roll down to the other end where it’s safer.” He squinted at the far end of the divider. It seemed terribly far away.

“Try to keep up,” he said, taking the more dangerous option.

First taxi he met shook his head no. Second one said he would like to, but had no boot space for his wheelchair. The third one agreed to let the fourth guy cut his queue in the rank to take Daniel where he wanted to go.

“Some taxi drivers don’t take you because they don’t want the hassle of lifting you and your wheelchair. Sometimes they charge a bit extra for the trouble.”

But most times it was good, with most taxi drivers treating him no different than any able-bodied passenger.

“It’s getting more and more common to see OKUs out in the public,” he said, waving to two other wheelchair users crossing his path. “It’s empowering,”