There’s something, too, about a wheelchair that has an effect on my voice. No one can hear me. To compensate, I raise my voice and suddenly feel like Joan Crawford in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, barking out orders. But no one is listening. For someone who is used to having mobility and a sense of free will, being in the wheelchair is completely the opposite. I am at the mercy of the person steering me. They will put me into a corner, or up against the wall, and I will have no say in it. I can hear something I want to respond to, but I can’t turn around and see it.
