The delight of being independent at long last ebbed away as I discovered the severe limitations the mobility scooter placed on me. I was now afraid to catch the eye of any stranger; afraid they would judge and condemn me simply for existing.

Scooters have a limited range. The long walks I envisaged have not happened as after the first one, I was so cold I was hypothermic; and almost out of battery. Bumping along bridle paths, paths made from redundant railways, and others, have had, on the whole, disastrous consequences. Fences with stiles crossing the path. Kissing gates. Steps. On more than one occasion  the scooter has had to be dismantled, lifted over the stile/kissing gate/step and re-assembled before we could move on.

Even seaside promenades are ‘no-go’ areas if the sand tossed by storm waves is allowed to accumulate; mobility scooters get stuck in deep sand.

Shops, enticing us to ‘please enter! You are most welcome!’ have narrow aisles, nowhere to turn or manoeuvre. I have been stuck inside so many shops, I do not now go inside any.

Cafes are also difficult. How do you get to a seat? Can you take the scooter, or do you have to leave it?

Leaving it, my head – no balance remember – tries to hurtle me to the ground. And I am more unstable and more unsteady than usual. Lulled into a false momentum by the mobility scooter or wheelchair, I really suffer on leaving either of them! 

There are many towns where pavements were constructed before cars were common. Pavements which simply stop. No dropped kerbs. Too narrow to turn around. The kerb too steep to attempt to descend – I have tried. The scooter grounds on the kerb edge; becoming an overlarge seesaw.

Mobility scooters are promoted at ‘comes together quickly and takes a part easily! Five pieces to fit easily into your car boot!’ And you are reliant on someone else to pack it into the car boot and then unpack it and assemble it at the other end. And they have forgotten to pack the battery.

We have tried to go to RHS gardens; to National Trust Gardens. To garden Centres. We have stopped doing so. They are scary places with kindly, useless staff who twitter and flutter about wringing hands in despair….and you sit there, centre of attention, hating every second.

And toilets. Toilets for the disabled. Radar key to get in. And not enough room to move around. Or get out. I have, on more than one occasion, dismantled my scooter and reassembled it facing the other way so I could get out with some kind of dignity.

We are booked to attend the Harrogate Flower Show this year; tickets sitting on the mantelpiece ready to be forgotten (!) for my 70th birthday. We have agreed to take my now utterly detested mobility scooter with us, as there is no way I can stand or manage in such crowds without it.

I am dreading it. Utterly.

CMM

A Moodscope member