A funny, real-life guide to using mobility aids in public

If you’d told me twenty years ago that I’d one day be cruising around in a mobility scooter, I’d probably have laughed, then limped off in denial. I’ve lived with ME/CFS, fibromyalgia, a chronic back and hip condition as well as various other non-related health issues along the way (just to spice things up a bit) for what feels like forever. Add in a few other bonus health issues, and let’s just say my body didn’t exactly come with the warranty I was hoping for.

For years, I pushed through without aids—even though, if I’m honest, I probably needed them at least fifteen years ago. Eventually, I gave in and started small: a walking stick. It wasn’t sturdy enough, though, and honestly, it felt like I was trying to balance myself on a prop from a Victorian drama. So, the stick was swapped for a crutch. Just one, on my left side, to support my rebellious right hip and back, while also helping with the leg weakness that ME so kindly provides.

I still remember the embarrassment of going out with it for the first time. You feel like you’ve got a neon sign above your head flashing “LOOK, I’M FALLING APART!” But you know what? After a while, it just became another part of life—like remembering to charge your phone, or knowing exactly where the best café seats are (near the plug sockets, obviously).

Scooters, Freedom, and… Madge from Benidorm

The real game-changer, though, was mobility scooters. At first, I only hired them for long days out—shopping centres, holidays in the UK, anywhere that would normally leave me exhausted for a week afterwards. Now I’m saving up for my own (a shiny little beast with a basket, I hope).

The first time I got on one, I felt so self-conscious. My kids, of course, didn’t make it easier. They immediately started calling me Madge from Benidorm. If you’ve seen the show, you’ll know exactly the image they were going for. Imagine me, glamorous scarf, big sunglasses, perched proudly on my scooter. I had to laugh—because honestly, they weren’t wrong.

Now, though, I lean into it. The scooter doesn’t just give me wheels; it gives me freedom. It lets me actually join in with life instead of sitting on the sidelines. And yes, occasionally I do imagine I’m in Mario Kart when I’m navigating the supermarket aisles. (Don’t worry—I’ve resisted throwing bananas at people. So far.)

The Awkward Encounters

Of course, using mobility aids comes with some “special” social experiences:

• The Well-Meaning Stranger: “Oh, bless you, do you really need that at your age?” (Answer: Yes, Karen. My body didn’t ask for your approval.)
• The Curious Child: “Mummy, why does that lady get to drive in the shop?” (Fair question. I sometimes wish I could hand out little business cards that explain it all.)
• The Random Chancer: “Can I have a go?” (No. No, you cannot. This is not Alton Towers. Back away from my scooter.)

Tips for Getting Around (and Owning It)

Over the years, I’ve picked up a few tricks:

• Shops: Always check where the lifts are before you start. Otherwise, you end up in the “scenic” stockroom tour trying to find your way out.
• Public Transport: Call ahead if you can. The staff are usually more helpful when they’ve had a heads-up.
• Mindset: Own it. Whether it’s a stick, a crutch, or a scooter, it’s not a weakness—it’s your key to freedom.

The Takeaway

Mobility aids aren’t something to be embarrassed about—they’re something to be grateful for. Do I still feel awkward sometimes? Sure. Do my kids still call me Madge? Absolutely. But I’d rather be Madge with a scooter and a smile than stuck at home missing out.

So yes, that’s my mobility scooter.

And no—you definitely can’t have a go.😜💜💪