For eight weeks, I navigated life in a wheelchair. A severe break in one ankle and avulsion fractures in the other foot left me temporarily immobile, and quickly revealed the everyday barriers that many Australians with permanent mobility issues face.

Our first challenge was access to taxis that were suitable to get me around, and then while the Qantas team were amazing it was really difficult to get in and out of a plane.

At home, I couldn’t reach the first floor so no access to my bedroom or the shower (luckily we were able to set up hot shower facilities in the back yard, but there was very little dignity involved in those showers.) Getting out the front door meant managing steps, a steep driveway, and a constant negotiation with the terrain. Without a disabled parking permit, we were regularly told to move the car while I was still trying to get into the wheelchair.

Out and about: the challenges

At work, my office, like many older commercial spaces, is only accessible by stairs. That meant working from home, not out of convenience, but necessity. The professional and personal disconnect that followed was real and a challenge for both myself and the team as a whole. We were also in the middle of construction in a project that needed by input but access to the site was impossible (a bit ironic when the building was designed with accessibility in mind)

And then there was public space. Shops with wide aisles were a gift. Most others weren’t. Design elements that had once seemed minor such as doorway widths, kerb heights, and the location of accessible toilets, suddenly became defining features of whether I could participate in daily life.

Short term discomfort, Long term insight

What struck me most is this: I was only in the chair for two months. This wasn’t my new normal. But for so many people, it is. And if I found the experience frustrating and isolating, what does that say about the environments we design?

We have codes and standards for a reason: to safeguard dignity, independence, and participation for people of all abilities. But regulations alone aren’t enough. We need empathy. We need building owners, architects, and planners to understand, not just the letter of the law but the lived experience of those navigating a world that wasn’t built with them in mind.

Designing for accessibility isn’t about ticking boxes. It’s about making sure everyone, regardless of circumstance, can move through the world with ease and respect. And sometimes, it takes sitting in a wheelchair to truly see what needs to change.

If you want to know more about how we can help you with inclusive design please get in touch.