Thoughts as the wind blows

Long time, no writing. I started this blog during Covid in 2020, when I had plenty of time to reflect and put thoughts on paper. That opportunity has not reproduced since then (quite the opposite with Russia's war of aggression against Ukraine, a real defining time that I may address). But an unexpected turn of events gave me again the opportunity to sit at home for quite a while. I should probably start there.

I had the misfortune to injure myself recently. I wished I could claim that some virtuous action led to this outcome (preventing someone from falling, running away from shelling, mountaineering… ), but no, it was a non-event: a fall in my bedroom while rushing at night to close the window that I forgot was open as a storm had started. I could not see that water had already soaked the floor by the time I ran in.

The subsequent visit to the ER quickly led to the verdict: trimalleolar break of the right ankle. For the non-medically savvy, it is basically like breaking the three elements linking the foot to the leg. I somehow managed to break the three elements “holding my foot”. It was somehow surprising to the doctors who kept asking me to repeat how I had done that... I am very grateful to my doctor friends who kept translating for me in plain words what the sibylline medical reports, X-rays and scanners said (in Dutch).

The following ensued: surgery during which a plate and several screws were put in my foot to make it hold, to be followed by a period of two months at best during which I cannot put my foot down. Then begins a long healing process spanning several months. It took me some time to digest the news at the beginning of summer (my boss joked that it was very considerate of me to do this on the last weekend of June). I first thought that the surgery behind me, I could fly the next week for a work trip. It took a few stern remarks from the surgeon to land and realise that I was not going anywhere any time soon. Then came the realisation: after the surgery, the hospital nurse helped me rent a wheelchair. I must admit that I had some reluctance to go down that path: me, in a wheelchair? Nah… I am the guy jumping from boulder to boulder very confidently with a heavy backpack. Quickly though, realising it was hard to move beyond a couple of hundred metres with my crutches, I gave in.

I am still in the healing process, but I've already learned a lot. Not having the use of a leg translates into different aspects you do not necessarily realise: on crutches, you cannot carry anything or very little, in a bag hanging from them or in a backpack. Moving a cup of tea or a glass of wine across the room? Forget about it. A wheelchair gives you more flexibility, but even my large and comfortable 100 square metre flat suddenly feels very tiny. I cannot use the chair indoors without having to reorganise everything (which I didn't). Although my residence is quite modern, with a large elevator, I realised that a very small step of just a few centimetres at the entrance that I had not even noticed prevents me from exiting my home and coming back in the wheelchair without someone's assistance (I can't imagine living in a small flat without an elevator in Paris… ).

Speaking of assistance, I do not know how I would have handled that alone. You suddenly become dependent on people, something I am not accustomed to. Thankfully Mila has been there helping and she has done so very gracefully, without the least complaint. I am very grateful, but I am ashamed of the number of things she has to handle for me. I can hardly cook and generally I get tired very quickly. I would have given up on quite a few things had she not been there to help or do them for me.

Another discovery is how you see things from a wheelchair and how you are perceived. Most people have treated me with a lot of kindness and very often offer their help. I remember with deep gratitude this Uber delivery guy racing by to deliver an order on time who, when he saw that we were stuck at the doorstep, immediately stopped and rushed to help roll me indoors. Everywhere I have been, people have tried to accommodate and never made me feel that it was cumbersome. I am quite certain that this is the result of many decades of education and actions to raise awareness. I am also conscious that I live in Belgium, which is a privileged place to be living with reduced mobility. Yet, even in a society where a lot is thought through, where you get access for free, you come to realise that there are so many drawbacks that still are a barrier for you to simply get out, not even mentioning the additional financial cost associated.

Having a physical disability entitles you to reduced fares, but getting to the exhibition or activity probably costs you more. A taxi with equipment to carry a person in a wheelchair is more expensive and even if you can sit in a normal seat, you will have to order a large car where your chair will fit, again at a cost. The mental charge of planning is also heavy: Is this location accessible? Is the path there accessible? Is the sidewalk in good shape? Does the road go up or down and will I be able to roll back? Can I go by myself or do I have to be accompanied? Can I reach public transportation? You probably do not have to ask yourself most of these questions. And these can be enough to discourage you from doing something you really want.

My current disability is only temporary, which is very humbling. I will try to fully appreciate the privilege I have to walk on my two legs, hike, run, bicycle, drive — that is the freedom to do whatever I feel like with little constraints. I will also try to be as helpful to those in this situation and advocate for disability accessibility with renewed vigour.

The wheelchair is used at all times…