Went to the hospital for them to check on the cast a couple of days ago. They say the position is good (so I don’t get to pick a 3rd cast colour – darn!) but I’ve got another full 3 weeks in the cast and zero weight bearing, and another 3 weeks of daily injections of a blood thinner so I don’t get deep vein thrombosis, followed by some time in a walking cast (aka robo-boot) and physiotherapy. It feels like forever!
So my mobility scooter experiences continue. Twice on the way to the hospital I ended up on streets that had no ramps at the corner, and had narrow sidewalks, so I had to back up for a block. And again I was amazed by the fact that the fracture clinic doesn’t have automatic doors; you have to wait for someone to come help you!
There are definitely some advantages to the disability. So far, whenever we’ve gone to a show, once we manage to get into the theatre they give us great seats, and often my “companion” doesn’t have to buy a ticket.
My daughter was in town visiting for a few days and we wandered by Buckingham Palace right when the Changing of the Guard was about to begin. A lovely police officer led us around the mobs to a front and centre viewing spot. Sweet!
I’ve started checking out some of the museums and galleries. Worst experience so far: the British Museum. Best: Victoria & Albert Museum.
British Museum
All museums and other public places now do bag inspections before you go in as a security measure. So when I saw a lineup of people having their handbags and backpacks examined and it looked wheelchair accessible, I joined the lineup. Everything went smoothly until I was through the line and entered the Museum. A security guard raced over to tell me that, unfortunately, the lift that would take me to the displays wasn’t working. He told me that if I went around to the other side of this enormous building, there was a lift there that could take me in at the correct level.
There was indeed a glass handicapped lift installed near the grand main entrance. It was a bit tricky to open from a scooter, but I managed. Got in, closed the door, pressed the up button, rose about a foot and then it stopped. Wouldn’t go further up, nor back down. I was trapped.
There was an emergency intercom, so I tried that. Got an automated answer. I couldn’t make out what it was saying over the noise of the crowds of tourists. I pressed it several times, hoping to get a person, but no luck. Eventually a security guard above noticed me and was able to get it the rest of the way up.
Yay! I finally made it in to the Museum.
The tourist hordes were making it difficult to get around, but there was an exhibit on the 3rd floor that looked interesting, and would probably be less crowded, so I fought my way to the elevator. Guess what? Out of service.
Frustrated, I decided to leave. Went back to the glass lift. Couldn’t possibly open the door the way it was positioned, but luckily someone offered to help me, so I was able to get in. (Why don’t these places ever have automatic door openers?!) This time it did go all the way down, but when I got there the door stayed locked. Nothing I could do would budge it. Trapped again.
Again I tried the emergency intercom. Again, just got an automated message. This wait took longer; about 20 minutes before a security guard noticed and came. Even he had trouble getting it open, although after trying various random combinations of buttons he did finally manage to unlock it. He commented, “I believe we’ve been waiting for some parts for that lift.” They knew it didn’t work properly, but there was no warning, and nobody with the responsibility of checking for trapped visitors!
Other Museums
The Tate Modern had at least one broken elevator, but the other Tate Museum was in proper working order, and had some lovely art. (See above).
Several of the Museums have what they call “Friday Night Lates”, where they stay open after the normal 5:45 p.m. closing times and have live entertainment, special talks or films, and often with a bar. At the V&A they had all of the above. Great DJs (too bad I can’t dance right now!), interactive performances, and, of course, drinks.
It was raining when we left (yes, for a couple of days the heat wave broke, but now it is back). I’m not supposed to get the cast wet, so we hailed a Black Cab for a ride home. All of the traditional London Black Cabs (many of which are no longer black, but covered in advertisements) are required to have a built in wheelchair ramp and they are tall enough that you can just roll right in and stay in your seat.
The Black Cabs are expensive, but what a blessing for those of us who can’t take an Uber.
