Wheels Within Wheels.

Hello, dear readers!

I have a habit of reviewing the topics I’ve visited of late. It helps prevent repetition which, especially in these days of staying in and doing nothing, is a distinct danger.

There are times, however, when fate keeps dealing out the same hand. Patterns emerge. The circle of life returns to the same point, ready to begin again. Of late, that cyclical nature has become apparent and ironically, it’s thrown up the thorny subject of wheels.

Fun Of The Unfair
According to my review of recent blog posts, it was five weeks ago I wrote this post. I’d like to think it’s a decent read, so if you didn’t catch it then have a look-see. (Go on. You know you want to) To summarise the post; my wheelchair lost a wheel, and it caused all sorts of fun.

The following week’s post dealt with the temporary repair of said wheel, and the realisation that temporary was the operative word. In short, the wheel had already started to wobble and lean alarmingly. As I finished writing that post it was still attached to the chair. Whether it was an aid to forward momentum? Well, that's a different question. One day later it fell off again.

Point Of Order
Now, by this point, Kirklees Wheelchair Services had already been out, performed the sticking plaster job, and promised me the proper parts were on order. I’m not entirely sure where they are on order from, but as they are yet to arrive, I can only imagine either 12th century Outer-Mongolia or the second moon of Neptune.

The fun doesn’t stop there though. Possibly out of some fraternal feeling, but more probably because of the unbalanced distribution of my 13st of manly muscle (plus a growing amount of lard), the left front castor followed the right castor’s lead, and developed a wobble.

And so I was in danger of being a tricycle once more. Another phone call to Wheelchair services (who by this point were on my favourites list) revealed the parts still hadn’t made it into earth’s atmosphere. At this point I was getting a little narked. Showing a remarkable amount of restraint, I asked the receptionist to give the parts the hurry-up and ensure I could expect two wheels (with corresponding brackets), rather than just one. He said he would enquire and get back to me.

He didn’t get back to me.

Right, Right, Left Right Wrong
Instead, another few days passed before the left wheel fell off. I rang Wheelchair Services back, and another Covid-masked repairman (possibly the same one. It’s hard to tell with the masks) arrived and made another cannibalised repair. He also ensured me that two wheels, two brackets, and everything needed to attach them to the frame of my chair were winging their way to me.

This was a week ago. In that time Mr Right-Wheel has developed another wobble. On Friday, just gone, I was told the parts had turned up. This turned out to be slightly less than factual as new wheels had arrived but not new brackets. Nevertheless, an early morning visit (with no need for me to wear my wife, Tina’s trousers this time) transpired. The repairman tightened both castors and told me that the brackets would arrive with the week and a full set of two wheels, two brackets and everything required to attach them to the frame of my wheelchair. They will set these aside and keep them in reserve for my chair and my chair alone, ensuring future repairs are both speedier and more permanent. 

I’m a touch skeptical, but as there’s not a lot I can do about it I will accept them at their word. Hopefully next week will see a more positive, less been-there-done-that feel to the blog. Hopefully, there will be more variety as the wheel turns and brings us full circle to a steadier, more stable blogger.

We can hope.

Until next time…