How to deal with able-bodied cynicism? Laugh

Seeing the world from a wheelchair exposes life's complications, says Melanie Reid

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The Frenchwoman in the Alpine ticket office had perfected the art of the eye-roll. When we asked for a disabled ticket, she peered down through her window at me, undisguised in her cynicism.

Unconvinced by my wheelchair, she demanded disabled ID (the French have a CMI, Carte Mobilité Inclusion). In the absence of any UK equivalent, I gave her my driver's blue badge. She was dismissive. “This is for parking, it’s not ID.” She was so spectacularly rude, in that priceless Gallic way, that I began to find it all very funny. I cheerfully offered to show her my catheter and urine bag. She shrugged, rolled her eyes again, sold us the concession tickets, sent us to the front of the long queue.

In the cable car up the mountain, as my loved ones fulminated, I was still chortling. I told them to get over it, because I gave up being angry years ago. It’s exhausting. And it’s boring. Besides, I can see both sides of a situation, sometimes with annoying clarity.