11.1 Safe spots

“When you end up in a wheelchair, you look for safe spots, places where you can be comfortable,” says Carl. “You’re vulnerable, even in cities that try to accommodate the physically challenged. But libraries are almost always safe. People won’t push you out of the way or ram you with a shopping cart, and library staffers are helpful. Most wheelchair people will tell you that libraries give them a break from the anxiety of dealing with sidewalks and malls.”

Many large North American libraries started to adapt their facilities for wheelchair access in the early 1960s. Forty years later, most public libraries have parking spaces reserved for handicapped persons. A wheelchair patron can enter the library either through a street-level door or along a ramp that’s not too steep. Ramps have handrails on one or both sides. Doorways and aisles are wide enough for wheelchair patrons to negotiate without difficulty. Elevators remain open for several seconds, enough time for a wheelchair patron to enter or exit without colliding with doors in motion. Those elevators are serviced regularly to ensure that they stop at a point level with the floor, so that wheelchairs don’t have to lurch dangerously when they cross the threshold. Signage is geared to meet wheelchair patrons’ needs, especially in directing them to washrooms and emergency exits.

11.2 Library attitudes

Attitudes toward wheelchair patrons have become more sophisticated as well. Library staffers can anticipate problems that a wheelchair might encounter in different parts of the library, and assist patrons at the appropriate moment.

“Librarians have learned patience,” says Mary, an 88-year-old retired landscape architect with a balance impairment who depends on a wheelchair to perform errands. “They understand that some of us can’t get past turnstiles and stairways, and that we can get stuck turning a corner or changing direction on certain types of carpets. Some of us simply run out of energy and need a hand.”

Mary is a heavy reader, and can’t conceive of life without access to books and magazines. She relies on Vancouver libraries for her chief source of entertainment and her main connection to the world at large. Not even her TV can give her what she gets from a stack of old magazines or a weekend’s worth of mysteries. Since she started to use a wheelchair, she has become acutely aware of the different ways that library staffers treat her.

“There’s a subtlety that many librarians develop,” she says. “They take note of people in wheelchairs. When a wheelchair patron has trouble reaching a book on a high shelf, they appear to offer assistance. But they have a gift of not making you feel self-conscious about needing help. That’s a special kind of service. It’s not available in every library, but it should be.”

Many wheelchair patrons do not like excessive attention. They do not like staff members to follow them around and monitor their every move.

11.3 Independence on wheels

“It’s annoying when all eyes are trained on me,” says Carl. “Once I’m past the front door, I don’t want extra attention. I get irritated with the non-handicapped people who monopolize Internet stations that are set up for wheelchair folks, but I don’t want the librarian to intervene on my behalf and reprimand some character who wasn’t aware of me because he was too busy examining a popular website. I can handle those situations myself. I simply say, ‘After you,’ and the guy will usually make way for me. But when the librarian steps in, he gets embarrassed, and I feel like a nuisance. This is not a small point. When the librarian or any other service worker acts on my behalf like that, I feel like a cripple. I assure you that I can handle most of these situations myself.”

Librarians must realize that every wheelchair patron is unique, and that some occasionally need a special kind of help. Liz, aged 38, is one such. She suffers from a form of multiple sclerosis that allows her to walk with a cane but occasionally forces her into a wheelchair. She and her family recently moved to Vancouver from Northern Manitoba so that she could receive more advanced medical treatment and counseling.

“My MS is unpredictable,” she says. “I have good and bad days, but I can’t alter my routine significantly, not with two daughters in elementary school. Our schedule includes regular visits to the local library for storytime, the young readers’ club, and random browsing. I think it’s important to make the library part of my daughters’ lives, so no matter how unstable I’m feeling, we’re off to the library. With my husband at work, I’m in charge of the girls.”

11.4 When to ignore the rules

Library policies and practices may limit the amount of physical assistance that library staff members can offer Liz, but she admits that occasionally they have ignored official restrictions to help her.

“Sometimes I’m feeling strong enough to get about with nothing more than a cane,” she says. “But by the time I reach the library, I’m tired. That’s when I’m at my worst, and there’s a risk that I’ll collapse. At my library branch, however, they look out for me. One of the staffers appears out of nowhere and helps me to a chair. Then somebody brings me a glass of water, while the children’s librarian grabs my girls and gives them something to read. When I’m feeling better, the librarian makes sure that I have a lift home. I guarantee that there’s nothing in the procedures manual that demands this level of attention devoted to one patron. My husband says that I probably receive better care in the library than I do at the hospital.”

When Liz appears at the library in her wheelchair, the staff treat her with the same consideration. She notes that an assistant has volunteered to “escort” her around the library.

“That means that he will push my wheelchair around the stacks, and hand me anything I can’t reach. He’ll also check out my books and pack them in the bag at the back of my chair. But he doesn’t treat me like an oddity. We enjoy complaining about the weather and civic politics, and we wax indignant about the incompetence of local hockey and football teams. In other words, there’s nothing strained or uncomfortable about my interaction with the library employee. And that’s how it should be.”

11.5 Individual respect

Carl, Mary, and Liz are encouraged by the ways in which libraries serve them as individuals.

“You have to be impressed when you see librarians getting to know you and your physical limitations so quickly,” says Carl. “After my accident, the social worker sent me to a support group for people who were recently handicapped and who relied on wheelchairs. What struck me right away was that wheelchair people have different limitations and challenges. There are paraplegics and quadriplegics. Some of us are incontinent, or asthmatic, or depressed, or heavily medicated. Elderly wheelchair users can get drowsy and fall asleep in the reference area. Younger users might require constant supervision. But you don’t hear librarians complain about us. We seem to be as welcome as anyone else, no matter how severely challenged we are. And that’s why so many of us become regular library users. It’s not just the books, it’s the quality of the staff and the way they treat us like ordinary people.”

Liz mentions that she sees an increasing number of wheelchair patrons in her library. She notes that all have different ways of using libraries.

“For example, my husband Tom has just joined a chess club, and the fellow he’s playing tonight is in a wheelchair. He’s supposed to be a good player. Tom’s looking forward to meeting him.”

Poor Tom. Carl has no mercy.