Julie Helen: Good access is really about feeling safe and comfortable

I was spinning all the options in my head for an event I had coming up. I knew what I was going to wear, and when and where I needed to be, but it was the actual getting there that was beating me.

It was at a venue that was likely to be jam-packed, and I knew the parking was going to be tricky, even on a good day.

I find it a real challenge that I can’t just turn up to an event, knowing I will figure it out there and then. I have to be absolutely certain of my plan of action, and I usually need to leave a lot of extra time for fear something goes haywire on me.

I’ve often ended up looking like a drowned rat or been too cold and mucky to actually go in, at the last minute. I’ve got stuck not being able to park, and had to drive away, giving my excuses.

I rarely explain how hard access feels in the moment, because it must be so hard to get your head around when you can just hop out of a car and walk wherever you need to go. I wonder what that feels like.

As I was weighing up my options, I remembered that I would only be about ten minutes from my parents’ house on the day. They are extremely busy, juggling a lot of things, but I picked up the phone and rang my Dad.

I asked him if he might be available if I came home and then he could drop and collect me to the venue using my car. That way, my wheelchair and everything I needed would already be in the car. I could feel myself explaining why I needed his help during our call: the limited parking, the inaccessible footpaths, my fear of too much distance, and my absolute need to be there because I had put a lot of preparation in and didn’t want to let anybody down. Dad interrupted me by saying: “It’s no bother at all girl, you don’t have to explain yourself to me!”

My shoulders dropped with relief at that sentence. If there are any two people who truly understand my access needs, it’s my parents, and they have turned up at corners, even when I didn’t expect them, saving me from a bad access situation, because they have seen it all. They have watched my access needs become more pronounced, not less so, and they have helped me figure it all out at each juncture.

Dad delivered me safely to my destination, so I got to my event on time, full of energy and mud-free.

I didn’t expect to feel so safe knowing he was coming back for me. I saw him coming towards me when he came to collect me, and it reminded me of school and college and the countless times he showed up long before I was able to drive myself.

My feelings made me reflect on how good access is really about feeling safe and comfortable, and I haven’t really noticed until now that I have started to feel unsafe when I am by myself.

Part of that feeling is that my wheelchair is quite new and I can’t get it in and out of the car easily without help yet. When I am on my own, I have to hope for assistance or do the manoeuvring in stages.

I am working on solutions for that now that I can put words to the feelings, and I know I can always call home to the original and greatest personal assistants for help too.