Last summer my dad fell and broke his hip. At 78, he's otherwise in good health, but suddenly our family was thrown into a world we knew nothing about - mobility aids. The doctor recommended an attendant-propelled wheelchair during his recovery period, and honestly, I had no clue what that even meant.
Three months and countless shopping trips, hospital visits, and family outings later, I've learned more about pushing wheelchairs than I ever thought possible. So I thought I'd share what I wish someone had told me from the start.
First things first – these are the wheelchairs with small wheels at the back. That's the easiest way to spot them. They're designed to be pushed by someone else (that's you, the attendant), not self-propelled by the person sitting in them.
Why choose this type? Well, they're:
Lighter than self-propelled chairs
Easier to manoeuvre in tight spaces
Simpler to fold and put in the car
Usually cheaper
Dad's physio explained that these chairs are perfect for people who can't propel themselves or who need help getting around outside the home. In Dad's case, it was all about saving his energy for rehabilitation exercises rather than wasting it on getting exhausted moving between locations.
No one tells you about the learning curve! The first time I took Dad to Tesco, I nearly crashed into the baked beans display. Then there was the time I misjudged a kerb and almost tipped him out.
But you get better quickly. After a few weeks, I could navigate shopping aisles like an F1 driver and tackle kerbs with the confidence of a professional.
The biggest surprise? How it changed our relationship. Dad and I suddenly had time to chat while moving between places. I'd push him along the seafront, and we'd have conversations we'd never had time for before. Silver linings, eh?
When we first looked at wheelchairs, the options were overwhelming. After using several (we started with a loaner from the Red Cross before buying our own), here's what actually makes a difference:
This is CRUCIAL. You'll be lifting this thing in and out of car boots, up steps, and around obstacles. Our first chair weighed about 14kg, and I dreaded getting it out of the car. We switched to a 9kg model, and the difference was night and day.
Trust me on this – spend the extra money on lightweight if you possibly can. Your back will thank you.
Dad initially thought all wheelchairs would be uncomfortable, but there's huge variation. Look for:
Padded armrests (those metal ones get cold and uncomfortable)
A slightly padded seat or bring a cushion
Adjustable footrests – Dad's 6'1" and the standard position left his knees around his ears
We ended up buying a basic gel cushion which made hours of sitting possible. Best £25 I've spent.
Some chairs fold easily with one hand. Others require the strength of Hercules and the patience of a saint. The difference? Quality of the frame and design of the folding mechanism.
I'd strongly recommend trying to fold and unfold any chair before buying. What looks simple in a showroom might be a nightmare in a rainy car park with an elderly parent waiting.
Going uphill, you'll get a workout that rivals any gym session. But downhill is actually more dangerous – the chair can easily get away from you.
My technique: when going downhill, walk backwards while pulling the chair towards you. Much safer, though you do get funny looks.
Dad and I got caught in a sudden downpour in early autumn. We were both soaked through in minutes. After that, I always kept a wheelchair poncho in the bag. Not the most fashionable item, but it kept Dad dry while I sprinted for shelter.
In summer, remember that sitting still in the sun gets hot quickly. A wheelchair user can't easily move to shade without your help. Dad's started bringing one of those folding fans, which seemed silly until I realized how much he needed it.
Finding accessible toilets becomes a strange obsession. You'll develop an internal map of every disabled loo in your town. The problem is that many "accessible" toilets aren't actually that accessible.
My advice? The app "Toilet Finder" became my best friend. Hospitals and large department stores usually have the best facilities.
Some wheelchair accessories seem gimmicky, but after months of use, these proved invaluable:
A good bag that attaches to the chair: We use it for everything from medications to water bottles to shopping
Cup holder: Sounds trivial until you need to transport two coffees and push a wheelchair
Portable ramp: For those single steps that are everywhere in Britain
A decent rain cover: Because British weather
The cup holder particularly transformed our outings – being able to have a coffee while sitting in the park made Dad feel normal again.
Let's be honest – there's often resistance to using a wheelchair. Dad initially hated the idea, seeing it as giving up. What helped was:
Focusing on what the chair enabled rather than what it represented
Starting with short, enjoyable trips
Letting him make decisions about where we went
The turning point came when Dad realized he could now join the whole family for my niece's birthday dinner at a restaurant across town – something that would have been impossible without the wheelchair.
Practice transfers: Getting from wheelchair to car/chair/bed smoothly takes practice
Be aware of cambers: Roads slope to the sides, which means constantly adjusting your pushing to keep straight
Watch for hazards at wheel level: Things you step over can be obstacles for wheels
Plan routes in advance: Checking for accessibility saves so much frustration
Give the user control: Dad likes to hold the map and direct where we're going – it helps him feel in charge
After trying several options, we settled on a Dash Lite wheelchair, which cost £189. The deciding factors were:
Weighs only 9.2kg
Folds easily with one hand
Has decent padding
Sturdy enough for everyday use
Three months on, it's still working perfectly. The only addition we made was upgrading the standard brakes, which were a bit flimsy.
I thought the wheelchair would just be a practical tool, but it's become much more. It's given Dad confidence to go out again. It's provided us with time to talk. And strangely, it's made both of us more aware of accessibility issues we never noticed before.
Dad's hip is healing well, and soon he might not need the wheelchair for most outings. But we'll keep it for longer trips – it's become a valuable part of our lives rather than just a medical necessity.
If you're just starting this journey, be patient with yourself. There's a learning curve, both practically and emotionally. But with the right wheelchair and a bit of practice, you'll be navigating the world with new skills and hopefully some unexpected positive moments along the way.
And remember – it's not about the wheelchair, it's about the freedom it provides. Dad put it best when he said, "This isn't about what I can't do anymore. It's about what I can still do, just differently."