Dusty Wentworth

  11th June 2026 is a date I suspect I will remember for a very long time. It was the day my new Scoozy S800 arrived. Now, that might not sound particularly remarkable to most people. After all, it is only a mobility scooter. But for me, it represented something much bigger than a piece of equipment. It represented freedom, independence, possibility and, perhaps most importantly, adventure. The strange thing is, I never wanted a mobility scooter. Becoming Disabled Disability has a way of changing your relationship with the world. Before my brain aneurysm, acquired brain injury, Functional Neurological Disorder (FND), Fibromyalgia and the collection of other health conditions I now live with, I never gave a second thought to walking across a field, exploring a nature reserve or heading off somewhere on a whim. Those simple freedoms vanished gradually. I became a full-time wheelchair user in October 2023. Like many people, I initially viewed wheelchairs and mobility scooters very d...

  Why Disabled People Are Either Pitied or Pedestalised If you spend enough time as a disabled person, you begin to notice a pattern. People rarely see you as simply another human being. Instead, they tend to place you into one of two categories. You are either a tragedy to be pitied or an inspiration to be admired. There seems to be very little room in between. I have experienced both. I've seen people look at me with genuine sadness, as though my life ended the day I became disabled. I've also had complete strangers tell me how "inspirational" I am for doing things that most people wouldn't think twice about. Going to the shops. Taking photographs. Going for a ride on my mobility scooter. Getting out of the house. Apparently, existing while disabled is enough to qualify for hero status. The reality is rather different. I am not a tragedy. I am not a hero. I am simply a man living his life. Yet society often struggles with that idea. The Comfort of Simple Stories...