There's no suitable analogy, at least not one I can pull out of the air. Having a flat tire on a wheelchair immobilizes a vehicle as does a flat tire on a car, but most drivers can get out and walk.
I've had three flat tires in the last year, all repaired "on site" by my friendly and terrifically handy neighbor, Ron. The last one came Tuesday morning, a slow leak that was probably the result of me damaging a valve stem by hitting it on the van's wheelchair lift or on a door frame.
The two pertinent questions you are asking I cannot answer:
- Why don't wheelchairs have run-flat tires?
- Why is the valve stem mounted in such a fashion to be vulnerable to damage?
The thing I can answer, or at least try to vocalize after thinking about it for a day or three is, What does it mean emotionally and psychologically to be ever-dependent on another person when a minor thing goes wrong?
The answers are two: Good. Bad.
It is such a simple thing, a flat tire. Were I physically able, I could have had it fixed in a few minutes. Not being physically able, it took longer because help arrives in stages.
- I get angry.
- I get confused.
- I give into the idea I need help.
- I feel guilt.
- I put aside my ego and ask for help.
- I wait while help is rendered.
A few minutes evolves into a few hours.
For mundane tasks most people can accomplish themselves, I have been dependent upon others for more than a half century. It has never gotten any easier to ask for assistance, nor any easier to accept assistance.
I resent asking for assistance. I am embarrassed to ask for assistance. I finally accept that it is a trade-off, the humbling of self, the admission of dependence that must be made so that I can function with the maximum independence. I purchase freedom with ego.
Conversely, most people are gracious. Ron is, especially so, for he is the embodiment of a good neighbor, the sort of person who will render a favor simply because a favor is needed. I am gracious in return, not only with Ron but with any other person who bridges the gap between my disability and my independence. And truth be told, graciousness on my part is a survival tactic.
I understand my motive, my need, but I am never sure of the motive of the person I ask to help me. My need is simple, but their reaction is certainly far more complex.
- Good will
I certainly try to ask for help in a way that will least inconvenience the person. I say the magic words of "Please" and "Thank you." I am polite and patient. But all of that is an act. Rather it is not so much an act as it is the intellectual understanding that I must behave in a certain fashion into to exist successfully in this world.
I need assistance. I ask. Another person gives. Perhaps it is a function of the contract that allows most societies to work writ small in the form of a deflated tire.