Image provided by: Clackamas Community College; Oregon City, OR
About The Clackamas print. (Oregon City, Oregon) 1989-2019 | View Entire Issue (March 8, 2000)
WeduEsdAy, M arc L i 8, 2000 Tales from a chair... When the J opportunity arose for a member of The Print to do an investigative piece on wheelchair accessibility decided that I would spend one whole school week (five days) bound to a wheelchair as if I was paralysedfrom the wai position of a wheelchair-bound individual: attending classes, meeting with professors, running errands, and even goings _________________ SHELBI WESCOTT_________________ Feature Editor The following is a diary chronicling my experiences, feelings and thoughts during those five days. DAY ONE: 8:45 a.m. -OK. I’m off. Already, five days seems like a lot, but I suppose it’s nothing compared to someone spending his orher whole life in a wheelchair. It isn’t until I get going down the parking lot that I realize it would have been nice to have the luxury of a handicap-parking sticker. My chair won’t fit through the cars in the lot, and so I am forced to travel around the cars in order to reach the sidewalk. It’s a little icy this morning and I’m having trouble getting over a bump on the sidewalk (it’s a big bump). Everytime I push my wheel, the wheel spins, but I don’t go anywhere. However, lam determined to make it. ..after all, I’ve only been sitting here for five minutes. •* A guy walks by me and gives me an embarrassed look, but he keeps walking. That’s fine, he was probably in too much of a hurry to give me a little push. 11:00 a.m. - My usual seat in the front of the classroom in Barlow 112 is not very accommodating to people in wheel chairs, so I sit in the back of the classroom using my notebook as a make-shift table. Maybe next class I’ll try to squeeze my chair behind a desk in the back of the class. DAY TWO: 9:05 a.m. - I’m late to class because it took me forever to get out of the parking lot again. On my way to class to Barlow I suddenly realize I’m looking down a long, steep wheelchair ramp and it doesn’t look very inviting. A bunch of automotive students are chatting on the couches below the ramp and I’m faced with the realization that I have the potential to make a fool out of myself. I start down the ramp slowly, trying to grasp the turning wheels with my hands to slow them down. But if s too late, I’ve already lost control of one of the wheels and in order to keep myself from spinning into the cement wall to my left, I let go of the other wheel. Doing this caused my wheelchair to race out- of-control down the ramp. My instinct is to put out my feet to protect me from the impact of hitting the railing down below. However, I quickly reminded myself that if I really was paralyzed...my feet wouldn’t help me. Suddenly, my chair hits the wall at full-force. My body lurches forward and I smacked my head on the blue railing. I sat there for a moment wondering if 1 should laugh, cry or become angry. I heard the chatting automotive students start to snicker and a few couldn’t control letting out loud laughs in my direc tion. They couldn’t have known I wasn’t really wheelchair bound? Could they have? While I decided to take the “that was kind-of funny” approach to the whole situation, I still couldn’t believe the gall of those students who laughed at my expense. I would like to see them try it. 2:00 p.m.- Nature calls. This is my first time venturing into a bathroom on campus and I don’t really know how to... well.. .get myself from the chair to the toilet. I’m tempted to leave the chair behind, but I decide I’m going to give it a try. There are two bathrooms close to me. The first requires going up “The Barlow Ramp of Death” (as I have decided to call it), which I have no interest in doing. And the second one is upstairs. So, I roll into the elevator and venture to the restroom. Right off the bat, something doesn’t go too well. This door isn’t an automatic door, and it is heavy and big. I" do my best to open it enough to squeeze through, but it took sev-> eral times of wheeling * forward and wheeling back in order to make it work. Then, I realize that even though the bath room says it’s handicap- accessible... it isn’t. I can’t get my chair inside the stall. I try to cram it inside, but the whole structure shakes and I’m sure I terrified the other woman using the stall next to mine. Finally, I give up. I don’t have time to find ■ another bathroom, I’ve decided I’ll wait until I get home. 6:00 p.m. - 1 am going to Clackamas Town Center to shop and decide to use this opportunity to see how other buildings accommodate people in wheelchairs. It doesn’t take long to realize that all the automatic doors at Clackamas are a luxury. Luckily, I don’t encounter many doors on my way through the j mall. What I do encounter is crowded shops with no room to maneuver. The “don’t touch” shop (as my little brother calls ? it) is impossible, so I don’t even try. I know that it wouldn’t j take long for me to knock something very valuable over. Finding elevators in a few of the department stores was a task, but people were very helpful in pointing me to the right direction. I am very thankful that it isn’t a busy night atthe mall. There ?' are some moments when I can’t seem to get around people , and there are a few who are oblivious to me would be even more of a nightmare if it weij 7:45 a.m. - It’s raining slightly today and soon as I start wheeling I realize that my an are like Jello. My classroom in Pauling seen so far away and I choose to traverse the oil side path through the parking lot than to« tempt the Barlow Ramp of Death. However, as soon as I get going I realize ti I chose poorly; the road to Pauling that rd behind Barlow is bumpy and uneven; there a no sidewalks to keep me out of the way of tra fic. A car speeds by through a mud puddle, b it misses getting me drenched in water and di When I reach the sidewalk entrance, leading the back of Pauling,I’m tired, wet and emotii ally drained. A few people pass me, walking in the sad direction, they can see that I’m struggling get my wheels to turn and my frustration! starting to show. Finally I snap...realizing th no one is coming to help, that I’m late forn Biology lab and my hands are frozen and cafe with mud...and I start to cry. I have two options. 1) Compromise my joii nalist integrity, get up and walk to clai After all, I am only pretending to I paralyzed. Or 2) Gather energy, push I moving. I choose the latter. When I reach Pauling, a flood ofn me. I’m almost there. As an answe friends from The Print arrive and det break and they assist me the remaint lab co than ii over I the lai unseen up and wheel ' friend Ryan. : wards, peopl looked cerned Gregg ingati ■ . movie' Oswego) and I came to realization that I coul I were in a wheelchair. My chair doesn’t fil cession stand or the ticket booth. Also, as w< uldn’t be able to get upstairs to start tht truly isn’t anything I can do at work and it’s DAY FOUR: 12:20 p.m. - I’m hungry. So, I travel to replenish my blood sugar levels with a bai chips and a rice krispie treat (well, my wheel« me hungry). However, when I get to thecafet!
