Today I made a phone call to the wheelchair repair service to follow up another issue.
I asked — politely — for a different joystick for my wheelchair. The one I’ve got is decaying. Falling apart.
I also recently injured my hand, so a different style joystick would make things easier, safer — more *functional*.
I wasn’t asking for gold plating or a hover feature.
Just a joystick.
But instead of, “Sure, we’ll sort that out,” I got this: "You’ll need to get an occupational therapist to approve that.”
Let me get this straight.
At 57 years old, after decades of living in a disabled body, using mobility equipment every day, knowing exactly what works and what doesn’t... do I still need someone else to "approve" a simple, logical, safety-driven request?
Whose Body Is It?
I get that systems need safeguards.
But I’m not asking for a new wheelchair or a radical redesign [although I am on an endless list for review]. I’m not making something up. I’m saying, “This bit is worn out, and another bit would work better. Can I have it?”
Needing an OT assessment feels like saying:
“Sorry, we know you live in your body, but someone else needs to check that you're not imagining what you need.”
It’s infantilising. It’s inefficient.
It creates costs that don’t need to exist — both financial and human.
Let Me Make Decisions About My Life
There’s something deeply wrong with a system that won’t trust disabled people to know their own needs.
Imagine if you had to get a therapist to approve your next pair of shoes because your foot was sore.
Or if you needed an assessor to okay a new computer mouse after breaking your wrist.
It’s absurd — unless, apparently, if you're disabled.
Trust, Respect, Autonomy
This isn’t about a joystick.
It’s about respect. About agency. About trusting people to know their lives and bodies.
At 57, I don’t want to be treated like I’m 5.
I’m not being reckless. I’m being reasonable.
Let me make the call — and not just on the phone.