Whey-aye-pet! Disabled Traveller in Newcastle

Whey-aye-pet! Disabled traveller in Newcastle.   

My rare condition means that I have to travel to one of the three Mitochondrial centres in England. My nearest is three hours away by train in Newcastle.  

We usually stay two nights, but because TransPennine Express were on strike every Sunday for months, possibly even years, we had to stay for one night.  The only good thing was we were able to book the assistance the night before.  In the past, TransPennine Express stuck its disabled passengers  by the toilet, but now, we are allowed in with the other passengers and even get a desk!  

We were bumped up to First Class, which was nice.  Each stop was announced through a voiceover, but my mum didn't see it visually. As it's a long journey, a food cart came along.  

Newcastle train station doesn't have a lift that I know of, but does have ramped bridges and stairs. The stair gaps are marked by lined grooves painted bright yellow. To divide the arrivals and departures, a thin, silver fence is in the middle of the bridge. However, in their hurry, everyone ignored this because there aren’t any arrows. The station is near the buses that go all over Northumberland.  

We walked to our hotel, the Hilton. I was exhausted, but after just a 10-minute lie down, it was time to go. My mum had phoned a few taxi firms to take us to the hospital. 5 star, who we finally got booked with, said a 3pm appointment wasn’t a good time as all of the accessible taxis are collecting the disabled children from school, which was helpful. I'll inform the hospital next time.  

We waited outside on the street for about 15 minutes, before the driver in a silver caddy pulled up. Once strapped in and our destination told, it was a quiet ride as he, nor us, made conversation.  

Newcastle is where the world's leading Mitochondrial research takes place. As it was an outpatient appointment, it was held at the Cresta Clinic, which is part of a huge building. The entrance is flat, with two automatic doors going into the main bit. The second one opens into reception, it stated as a covid precaution, only one person/patient group may enter at one time. This helped me feel safer.  

Cresta clinic is set out like a square, so you can't get too lost. The waiting area was quiet, with only a few patients sitting on the blue chairs.  

I was soon called in to have an ECG. This heart scan doesn't hurt. The worst part was having the sticky pads ripped off my bare skin! This ouch moment lasted less than a second.  

I was then called in to see the doctor. I remember his office being all white and not huge to navigate, but was manageable.  The corridors where I waited for a second ECG wasn’t that big, so I had to park my chair on the side to enable other people to pass.  

Usually, I’d have a full M.O.T with the whole team, testing the physiotherapy equipment, talking to the Speech and language therapist  and dietitian, but I think the staff wanted to get home, as, rather than anything in depth, we just chatted in the corridor.  I did get to talk to the nurse about some personal issues and she put my mind at ease.  

When it was time to go, my mum phoned five different taxi firms, and as it was after 5 p.m. all of the drivers with an accessible cab had gone home! So, wheelchair users mustn't go out after 5 p.m. in Newcastle! 

Thankfully, the nurse directed us to a bus stop.  

The Arriva bus driver was very helpful and sorted the ramp. The only thing I noticed, having not been on a bus since before the pandemic, and that was probably a Newcastle bus, but last time the buses had a voiceover that announced each stop. This time, the bus was silent. Otherwise, it was ok as we were in masks and the bus was empty, apart from one other passenger.  

Due to fatigue, my mum pushed me to the Hilton Hotel.  The reception was on the second floor, so we squeezed into the lift. We tried using the lift as little as possible. It was tiny. No way could I drive in forward,  even on an angle, I got stuck and my mum had to manually manoeuvre me into it. The hotel didn't want us to leave when getting in the lift before coming home, the lift doors kept closing in on my chair as I tried to get in. Panic set in when the alarm went off. No staff came. My rescuer was, of course, my mum, who used heroic force to push the doors open.  

The room was nice. The only downside being how high the bed was. I had to use all of my upper body strength to pull myself up onto the bed. Between the right side of the bed and the bathroom, was a wall that jutted out. I assume it’s there for artistic purposes, but, really, it has no point. I used it to lean on.  

The bathroom was good. It had contrasting features, like a black bar/white toilet. An unusual feature was the two sinks. One bigger and not wheelchair accessible, the other, a smaller sink with easy-to-use taps and a bar to hold onto. A black shower seat folded on to the decorative wall.  

The bathroom with one wall tiled with grey tiles of different shades. There is a handrail by the shower. A mirror over the accessible sink. Handrail to the right of the sink. Pale flooring.

Bathroom showing the white toilet with handrails near the accessible sink, you can also see the second non accessible sink with a grey top. 

Breakfast at the Hilton Hotel was nice. They had a choice of hot and cold foods, like cereal, pastries, egg, beans, sausage, hash browns.  The only thing that let the breakfast down was the apple juice. It tasted watered down. Sadly, I wouldn’t recommend the Hilton Hotel Newcastle to wheelchair users due to the lift.  However, the room was ok. 

On the train home, I encountered two displays of blatant ignorance and rudeness from other passengers.  

Waiting to get on the TransPennine Express train home,  with the assistant, I was clearly visible to the other passengers, yet when I turned to go into my reserved seat, a man, and presumably his wife, were sat there. He pointed at another table and chair, which was half the size of our reserved seats, and barked, 'you can go over there!'  

I was about to give the couple a history lesson of disability, and say how hard the disabled community fought to get the Disability Discrimination Act 1995, so that people like me can travel in the era of equality, when my mum ignored the man and asked me, “where do you want to sit, Faye?” I went forward and collided with the couple's cases, which were parked in the wheelchair bay that that was clearly sign posted with stickers saying Reserved for wheelchair users.  In ignoring me, he showed off his unpleasant, unkind and ignorant personality. I felt a little sympathy for the woman who took the cases, muttering an apology for his unjust demand that ‘you can sit at a small, inaccessible table.’ Had this incident happened years ago, I would’ve done as he asked. Now I am older and wiser and have more confidence, I can stand up to bullies.   What the ramp assistant should have done was ask them to move.  

On the local train home from Liverpool Lime Street, the ramp assistant annoyed me by not acknowledging me and only talking to my mum. I may have to bring this up with Mersey Rail.  

I may be visually impaired and use a wheelchair, but you can converse with me. Usually Mersey Rail are brilliant, but twice at Lime Street, I have been ignored in favour of speaking to my mum.  

The underground was packed as certain trains weren’t running, and the ramp assistant had trouble getting hold of the station I needed.  The train was packed. I went to park by the doorway, but was told quite loudly, in front of a heaving train carriage, by the guard who pointed at me, to move into the wheelchair bay.  

Once there, I could see why we were instructed to move. People just kept piling in, blocking corridors and doorways. I felt quite claustrophobic as I wondered how I would get off the train.  

Arriving really brought out people's true humanity: 

As I made a turn in my wheelchair, a mother yanked her young daughter's arm as they clambered over me in an effort to reach the doors first. Perhaps she too felt claustrophobic? 

As people got off, some space cleared so I tried to turn. In the seat to my left was a man. He was staring at me with his legs and shopping bags splayed out in the aisle. I asked him to please move, but he continued to watch me struggle. I had no choice but to drive into his bags 3 times even doing an 8-point turn.  If he was visually impaired surely the woman opposite talking to him would’ve said something to him.  Instead, they both showed utter ignorance.  

I did not enjoy this trip from the taxi firms assuming wheelchair users don’t go out after 5pm, to not being able to get in the lift independently at the hotel, and the dreadful attitudes of train passengers, none of it made for a fun trip.  

When I go for my next appointment, I’ll definitely stay two nights, as one was too exhausting.  

Message to people everywhere:  disabled people lead busy lives, whether it's getting to a gig, a night out with friends or just getting to your hotel after a long, long day. Can you think of other sections of society who are treated so appallingly and told, you don't deserve to have a fulfilled life, you’re disabled?  

I may be a wheelchair user but I can converse, so talk to me, not the person I am with. An inability to walk or see does not affect my ability to think, or feel.  

Treat me with respect. Don’t ignore me when I ask you to move.