It happened at the pool

That's us in the big pool

I am writing this post on International Day of Persons with Disabilities (IDPD). 

December 3 was first proclaimed as such in 1992 via United Nations General Assembly resolution 47/3. Its aim is to promote an understanding of disability issues and mobilize support for the dignity, rights and well-being of persons with disabilities.

Here in my own world, this past week provided a small reminder of the long journey that faces our society before it achieves those goals.

First, a bit of background.

The local, private, small and generously-heated pool we have enjoyed using weekly during these past two years has been officially shuttered. A child was injured on a broken pool tile, the parents threatened to sue the owners, and the latter's lawyer advised them to cease renting out the pool because of liability risks. Needless to say, they have heeded the advice.

Last week, we hadn't yet been notified of the permanent closure. So we were still hopeful that the small pool would reopen soon. We took Haya to the nearest public pool, a much larger facility where the water temperature is set at 29 degrees Celsius (84 in Fahrenheit terms) as compared with the 32 degree (90 F) of the private one. 

That may sound like a negligible difference. But trust me, it isn't. When I swim laps in that same water, it's fine. 

But as her hydro-therapist and standing mostly-still in the pool for Haya's session, I freeze.

As soon as we were notified about the small pool's demise I ordered a wetsuit online. Here's hoping it arrives in time for next week's session.

But I digress.

A few days ago, on arriving at the public pool, we were greeted with a shock. I mentioned to the guard at the entrance that since my daughter is wheelchair-bound I will swipe my chip (a digital entry ticket with stored value - not uncommon here) for her upstairs and then wheel her in via the street-level entrance. 

"Your daughter is in a wheelchair?" the guard asked. When I concurred, she told me that Haya couldn't enter and that I must go speak to the secretary.

 
The secretary explained that the office had "received complaints" about Haya's presence in the pool because she is so severely disabled.

"You need to bring her to a therapy pool, not here".

While my blood reached boiling point and I was contemplating a response, she made a phone call. After hanging up, she did a complete 180.

"It's fine. There's no problem. You can bring your daughter in."

What had really happened is anyone's guess. But regarding the "complainants", the mystery was soon solved.

As the three of us - Haya's carer, my husband and I - brought Haya in to the pool area, a woman in the water addressed the lifeguard with the sort of anti-disabled venom I'd presumed had exited long ago.

"You can't allow her in!" the woman told him, carefully ignoring us. "She doesn't have authorization to use the pool! It's your responsibility to keep her out!"

When the kind lifeguard defended Haya, the woman and her buddy left the pool in a fury.

The need for an International Day of Person's with Disabilities is clearly an ongoing one so long as people with disabilities remain unwelcome and unwanted by vocal segments of society.